"I'm wore out," ses Dixon, leaning agin the bar. "I've got no pride
left; it's all been knocked out of me. How's Julia?"

"She's all right," ses Charlie. "Here, Ju--"

"H'sh!" ses Dixon, reaching over the bar and laying his 'and on his arm.
"Don't let 'er know too sudden; break it to 'er gently."

"Fiddlesticks!" ses Charlie, throwing his 'and off and calling, "Here,
Julia! He's come back."

Mrs. Dixon came running downstairs and into the bar. "Good gracious!"
she ses, staring at her 'us-band. "Whoever'd ha' thought o' seeing you
agin? Where 'ave you sprung from?"

"Ain't you glad to see me, Julia?" ses George Dixon.

"Yes, I s'pose so; if you've come back to behave yourself," ses Mrs.
Dixon. "What 'ave you got to say for yourself for running away and then
writing them letters, telling me to get rid of my relations?"

"That's a long time ago, Julia," ses Dixon, raising the flap in the
counter and going into the bar. "I've gone through a great deal o'
suffering since then. I've been knocked about till I 'adn't got any
feeling left in me; I've been shipwrecked, and I've 'ad to fight for my
life with savages."

"Nobody asked you to run away," ses his wife, edging away as he went to
put his arm round 'er waist. "You'd better go upstairs and put on some
decent clothes."