down some bedclothes and 'ad a bed made up for 'im on the sofa. Some men
would ha' 'ad the police in for less than that, but George Dixon 'ad got
a great deal o' pride and 'e couldn't bear the shame of it. Instead o'
that 'e acted like a fourteen-year-old boy and ran away to sea.

They found 'im gone when they came down in the morning, and the side-door
on the latch. He 'ad left a letter for 'is wife on the table, telling
'er wot he 'ad done. Short and sweet it was, and wound up with telling
'er to be careful that her uncle and cousins didn't eat 'er out of house
and 'ome.

She got another letter two days arterward, saying that he 'ad shipped as
ordinary seaman on an American barque called the _Seabird,_ bound for
California, and that 'e expected to be away a year, or thereabouts.

"It'll do 'im good," ses old Burge, when Mrs. Dixon read the letter to
'em. "It's a 'ard life is the sea, and he'll appreciate his 'ome when 'e
comes back to it agin. He don't know when 'e's well off. It's as
comfortable a 'ome as a man could wish to 'ave." It was surprising wot a
little difference George Dixon's being away made to the Blue Lion.
Nobody seemed to miss 'im much, and things went on just the same as afore
he went. Mrs. Dixon was all right with most people, and 'er relations
'ad a very good time of it; old Burge began to put on flesh at such a
rate that the sight of a ladder made 'im ill a'most, and Charlie and Bob
went about as if the place belonged to 'em.

They 'eard nothing for eight months, and then a letter came for Mrs.
Dixon from her 'usband in which he said that 'e had left the _Seabird_
after 'aving had a time which made 'im shiver to think of. He said that
the men was the roughest of the rough and the officers was worse, and