to Garden Green. Ned Miles, who travelled in the oil trade, came up and
smote him upon the shoulder.

"Say, cocky, what have you been doing to yourself?" he demanded in
amazement. "Have you robbed a bank and going about in disguise, eh?
Why, the missis won't know you!"

Burton shrank a little back in his place. His eyes seemed filled with
some nameless distaste as he returned the other's gaze.

"I have taken a dislike to my former style of dress," he replied simply,
"also to my moustache."

"Taken a dislike--Lord love a duck!" his quondam friend exclaimed.
"Strike me blind if I should have known you! Taken a dislike to
the--here, Alf, is this a game?"

"Not at all," Burton answered quietly. "It is the truth. It is one of
those matters, I suppose," he continued, "which principally concern
oneself."

"No need to get jumpy about it," Mr. Miles remarked, still a little
dazed. "Come in and have some farthing nap with the boys. They won't
recognize you in that get-up. We'll have a lark with them."

Burton shook his head. Again he was unable to keep the distaste from
his eyes or tone.

"Not to-night, thank you."