pose he's heard since that she
has come in for a bit of money."

"Money!" repeated Mr. Wotton, in a voice that he fondly hoped expressed
artless surprise. "Money!"

"Money," said the old lady; "and I suppose he sent you two gentlemen
round to see how the land lay."

She was looking full at Mr. Davis as she spoke, and both men began to
take a somewhat sombre view of the situation.

"You didn't know him, else you wouldn't talk like that," said Mr. Wotton.
"I don't suppose you'd know 'im if you was to see him now."

"I don't suppose I should," said the other.

"P'r'aps you'd reckernize his voice?" said Mr. Davis, breaking silence
at last.

Mr. Wotton held his breath, but the old lady merely shook her head
thoughtfully. "It was a disagreeable voice when his wife used to hear
it," she said at last. "Always fault-finding, when it wasn't swearing."

Mr. Wotton glanced at his friend, and, raising his eyebrows slightly,
gave up his task. "Might ha' been faults on both sides," said Mr. Davis,
gruffly. "You weren't all that you should ha' been, you know."

"Me!" said his hostess, raising her voice.

[Illustration: "Don't you know me, Mary?"]

"Yes, you," said Mr. Davis, rising. "Don't you know me, Mary? Why, I
knew you the moment you come into the room."

He moved towards her awkwardly, but she rose in her turn and drew back.

"If you touch me I'll scream," she said, firmly. "How dare you. Why,
I've never seen you before in my life."

"It's Ben Davis, ma'am; it's 'im, right enough," said Mr. Wotton, meekly.

"Hold your tongue," said the old lady.

"Look at me!" commanded Mr. Davis, sternly. "Look at me straight in the
eye."

"Don't talk nonsense," said the other, sharply. "Look you in the eye,
indeed! I don't want to look in your eye. What would people think?"

"Let 'em think wot they like," said Mr. Davis, recklessly. "This is a
nice home-coming after being away thirty-five years."

"Most of it on a desert island," put in Mr. Wotton, pathetically.

"And now I've come back," resumed Mr. Davis; "come back to stop."

He hung his cap on a vase on the mantelpiece that reeled under the shock,
and, dropping into his chair again, crossed his legs and eyed her
sternly. Her gaze was riveted on his dilapidated boots. She looked up
and spoke mildly.

"You're not my husband," she said. "You've made a mistake--I think you
had better go."

"Ho!" said Mr. Davis, with a hard laugh. "Indeed! And 'o