in dismay at a bill in the window announcing that the house was to be
sold. He walked up the path still looking at it, and being admitted by
the trim servant was shown into the parlour, and stood in a dispirited
fashion before Mrs. Smith.

"Not back yet?" he inquired, gruffly.

The old lady shook her head.

"What--what--is that bill for?" demanded Mr. Davis, jerking his thumb
towards it.

"She is thinking of selling the house," said Mrs. Smith. "I let her know
you had been, and that is, the result. She won't comeback. You won't
see her again."

"Where is she?" inquired Mr. Davis, frowning.

Mrs. Smith shook her head again. "And it would be no use my telling
you," she said. "What she has got is her own, and the law won't let you
touch a penny of it without her consent. You must have treated her
badly; why did you leave her?"

"Why?" repeated Mr. Davis. "Why? Why, because she hit me over the 'ead
with a broom-handle."

Mrs. Smith tossed her head.

"Fancy you remembering that for thirty-five years!" she said.