rom the stiff grandeur of his
surroundings, nodded.

"P'r'aps you'd better start, in case she reckernizes my voice," he said,
slowly. "Pitch it in strong about me and 'ow I was always wondering what
had 'appened to her."

"You're in luck, that's wot you are," said his friend, enviously. "I've
only seen furniture like thiss in shop windows before. H'sh! Here she
comes."

He started, and both men tried to look at their ease as a stiff rustling
sounded from the stairs. Then the door opened and a tall, stoutly-built
old lady with white hair swept into the room and stood regarding them.

Mr. Davis, unprepared for the changes wrought by thirty-five years,
stared at her aghast. The black silk dress, the gold watch-chain, and
huge cameo brooch did not help to reassure him.

"Good-good afternoon, ma'am," said Mr. Wotton, in a thin voice.

The old lady returned the greeting, and, crossing to a chair and seating
herself in a very upright fashion, regarded him calmly.

"We--we called to see you about a dear old pal--friend, I mean,"
continued Mr. Wotton; "one o' the best. The best."

"Yes?" said the old lady.

"He's been missing," said Mr. Wotton, watching closely for any symptoms
of fainting, "for thir-ty-five years. Thir-ty-five years ago-very much
against his wish-he left 'is young and handsome wife to go for a sea
v'y'ge, and was shipwrecked and cast away on a desert island."

"Yes?" said the old lady again.

"I was cast away with 'im," said Mr. Wotton. "Both of us was cast away
with him."

He indicated Mr. Davis with his hand, and the old lady, after a glance at
that gentleman, turned to Mr. Wotton again.

"We was on that island for longer than I like to think of," continued Mr.
Wotton, who had a wholesome dread of dates. "But we was rescued at last,
and ever since then he has been hunting high and low for his wife."

"It's very interesting," murmured the old lady; "but what has it got to
do with me?"

Mr. Wotton gasped, and cast a helpless glance at his friend.

"You ain't heard his name yet," he said, impressively. "Wot would you
say if I said it was--Ben Davis?"

"I should say it wasn't true," said the old lady, promptly.

"Not--true?" said Mr. Wotton, catching his breath painfully. "Wish I
may die----"

"About the desert island," continued the old lady, calmly. "The story
that I heard was that he went off like a cur and left his young wife to
do the best she could for herself. I sup