black, and the others wore black neckties for a fortnight and spoke of
Dixon as pore George, and said it was a funny world, but they supposed
everything was for the best.

It must ha' been pretty near four years since George Dixon 'ad run off to
sea when Charlie, who was sitting in the bar one arternoon reading the
paper, things being dull, saw a man's head peep through the door for a
minute and then disappear. A'most direckly arterward it looked in at
another door and then disappeared agin. When it looked in at the third
door Charlie 'ad put down 'is paper and was ready for it.

"Who are you looking for?" he ses, rather sharp. "Wot d'ye want? Are
you 'aving a game of peepbo, or wot?"

The man coughed and smiled, and then 'e pushed the door open gently and
came in, and stood there fingering 'is beard as though 'e didn't know wot
to say.

"I've come back, Charlie," he ses at last.

"Wot, George!" ses Charlie, starting. "Why, I didn't know you in that
beard. We all thought you was dead, years ago."

"I was pretty nearly, Charlie," ses Dixon, shaking his 'ead. "Ah! I've
'ad a terrible time since I left 'once."

"'You don't seem to ha' made your fortune," ses Charlie, looking down at
'is clothes. "I'd ha' been ashamed to come 'ome like that if it 'ad been
me."