ham had listened to this admonition, delivered
with solemn emphasis and no small measure of severity, with a kind of
stolid indifference. He retained his humble, apologetic attitude, but
clearly the coroner's threats did not affect his simple equanimity.

"I thank you, sir, kindly," he said when the coroner had ceased
speaking, "but I can't 'elp it. Paul would go on 'is own way. Ask 'is
mother there. 'E never would be spoken to, wouldn't Paul. And me and
'is mother allus said 'e'd come to mischief some day."

"Did you know anything at all of this fraud?"

"No, sir. We knew nothin' of it really. You see Paul left 'ome nearly
two year ago come Christmas. 'E didn't tell us nothing."

"Then you last saw your son alive two years ago?"

"Yes, sir. That's the last me and 'is mother seed of 'im. Christmas
Day, sir, 'twas two year ago nearly. Paul 'e said then 'e'd 'ad enough
of knockin' about in London. 'E was goin' abroad, 'e was, that's what
'e said. And 'e left 'ome, sir, the next day. Bank 'oliday 'twere, and
that's the last me and 'is mother seed of 'im."

He had told this with all the simple fatalism peculiar to his class.
The son went "abroad," and "abroad" to a Clapham labourer is a very
vague term indeed. It means so many things: geographically it means
any place beyond a twelve-mile radius from home; the Antipodes are
"abroad," but so is Yorkshire. Domestically it means that the
traveller passes out of the existence of those that are left behind as
surely as if he had stepped into the grave. Financially, it means a
mouth less to feed, seeing that the intending traveller is nearly
always a wastrel at home. In any event the proposed journey "abroad"
is taken with quiet philosophy by family and friends. The traveller
starts for "abroad" as easily, as simply, as he would for the nearest
public house. He has no impedimenta, nothing to burden him or to cause
him regret. Strangely enough, no one ever has any idea where the money
comes from that pays for the journey "abroad." The traveller being a
wastrel never has any himself, and the family is invariably too poor
to provide it. But the wastrel goes, nevertheless.

And life within the narrowed precincts of the family circle goes on
just as it had done before. Sometimes news comes from the traveller--a
picture post-card from "abroad," usually a request for pecuniary
assistance. Seldom does good news arrive; still more seldom does the
traveller come back home.

But it