"I won't repeat it," said Mr. Carter, firmly.

He was reminded of other episodes during the meal, but, by the exercise
of tact and the plea of a bad memory, did fairly well. He felt that he
had done very well indeed when, having cleared the tea-things away, Nancy
came and sat beside him with her hand in his. Her brother grunted, but
Mr. Evans, in whom a vein of sentiment still lingered, watched them with
much satisfaction.

Mr. Carter had got possession of both hands and was murmuring fulsome
flatteries when the sound of somebody pausing at the open door caused
them to be hastily withdrawn.

"Evening, Mr. Evans," said a young man, putting his head in. "Why,
halloa! Bert! Well, of all the----"

"Halloa!" said Mr. Carter, with attempted enthusiasm, as he rose from his
chair.

"I thought you was lost," said the other, stepping in and gripping his
hand. "I never thought I was going to set eyes on you again. Well, this
is a surprise. You ain't forgot Joe Wilson, have you?"

"Course I haven't, Joe," said Mr. Carter. "I'd have known you anywhere."

He shook hands effusively, and Mr. Wilson, after a little pretended
hesitation, accepted a chair and began to talk about old times.

"I lay you ain't forgot one thing, Bert," he said at last.