roses, he brought a breath of the bustle of the great city and tales of
the great cities beyond the seas. Refreshment was forced upon him, and
Mr. Burton, pleased at his friend's success, shared mildly in his
reception. It was nine o'clock before they departed, and then they only
left to please the landlord.

"Nice lot o' chaps," said Mr. Stiles, as he stumbled out into the sweet,
cool air. "Catch hold--o' my--arm, George. Brace me--up a bit."

Mr. Burton complied, and his friend, reassured as to his footing, burst
into song. In a stentorian voice he sang the latest song from comic
opera, and then with an adjuration to Mr. Burton to see what he was
about, and not to let him trip, he began, in a lumbering fashion, to
dance.

Mr. Burton, still propping him up, trod a measure with fewer steps, and
cast uneasy glances up the lonely road. On their left the sea broke
quietly on the beach below; on their right were one or two scattered
cottages, at the doors of which an occasional figure appeared to gaze
in mute astonishment at the proceedings.

"Dance, George," said Mr. Stiles, who found his friend rather an
encumbrance.

"Hs'h! Stop!" cried the frantic Mr. Burton, as he caught sight of a
woman's figure bidding farewell in a lighted doorway.

Mr. Stiles replied with a stentorian roar, and Mr. Burton, clinging
despairingly to his jigging friend lest a worse thing should happen, cast
an imploring glance at Mrs. Dutton as they danced by. The evening was