“Halloa!” he said, suddenly.  “Why, are you moving, mother?”

Mrs. Green sniffed sadly and shook her head.  “Well,” said Mr. Letts, with an admirable stare, “what’s that chap doing with my furniture?”

“Eh?” spluttered Mr. Green.  “What?”

“I say, what’s he doing with my furniture?” repeated Mr. Letts, sternly.

Mr. Green waved his arm.  “That’s all right,” he said, conclusively; “he’s bought it.  Your mother knows.”

“But it ain’t all right,” said Mr. Letts.  “Here! bring that back, and those chairs too.”

The dealer, who had just placed the bureau on the tail-board of the van, came back wiping his brow with his sleeve.

“Wots the little game?” he demanded.

Mr. Letts left the answer to Mr. Green, and going to the van took up the bureau and walked back to the house with it.  Mr. Green and the dealer parted a little at his approach, and after widening the parting with the bureau he placed it in the front room while he went back for the chairs.  He came back with three of them, and was, not without reason, called a porcupine by the indignant dealer.

He was relieved to find, after Mr. Simpson had taken his departure, that Mr. Green was in no mood for catechising him, and had evidently accepted the story of his escape and return as a particularly disagreeable fact.  So disagreeable that the less he heard of it the better.

“I hope you’ve not come home after all these years to make things unpleasant?” he remarked presently, as they sat at tea.

“I couldn’t be unpleasant if I tried,” said Mr. Letts.

“We’ve been very happy and comfortable here—­me and your mother and sister,” continued Mr. Green.  “Haven’t we, Emily?”

“Yes,” said his wife, with nervous quickness.

“And I hope you’ll be the same,” said Mr. Green.  “It’s my wish that you should make yourself quite comfortable here—­till you go to sea again.”

“Thankee,” said Mr. Letts; “but I don’t think I shall go to sea any more.  Ship’s carpenter is my trade, and I’ve been told more than once that I should do better ashore.  Besides, I don’t want to lose mother and Betty again.”

He placed his arm round the girl’s waist, and, drawing her head on to his shoulder, met with a blank stare the troubled gaze of Mrs. Green.

“I’m told there’s wonderful openings for carpenters in Australia,” said Mr. Green, trying to speak in level tones.  “Wonderful!  A good carpenter can make a fortune there in ten years, so I’m told.”

Mr. Letts, with a slight wink at Mrs. Green and a reassuring squeeze with his left arm, turned an attentive ear.

“O’ course, there’s a difficulty,” he said, slowly, as Mr. Green finished a vivid picture of the joys of carpentering in Australia.

“Difficulty?” said the other.

“Money to start with,” explained Mr. Letts.  “It’s no good starting without money.  I wonder how much this house and furniture would fetch?  Is it all mine, mother?”