Mrs. Silk sniffed and looked up the alley, whereat two neighbours who happened to be at their doors glanced up and down casually, and retreated inside to continue their vigil from the windows.

“Silk courted me for fifteen years before I would say ‘yes,’” she said, severely.

“Fifteen years!” responded the other.  He cast his eyes upwards and his lips twitched.  The most casual observer could have seen that he was engaged in calculations of an abstruse and elusive nature.

“I was on’y seven when ’e started,” said Mrs. Silk, sharply.

Mr. Wilks brought his eyes to a level again.  “Oh, seven,” he remarked.

“And we was married two days before my nineteenth birthday,” added Mrs. Silk, whose own arithmetic had always been her weak point.

“Just so,” said Mr. Wilks.  He glanced at the sharp white face and shapeless figure before him.  “It’s hard to believe you can ’ave a son Teddy’s age,” he added, gallantly.

“It makes you feel as if you’re getting on,” said the widow.

The ex-steward agreed, and after standing a minute or two in silence made a preliminary motion of withdrawal.

“Beautiful your plants are looking,” said Mrs. Silk, glancing over at his window; “I can’t think what you do to ’em.”

The gratified Mr. Wilks began to explain.  It appeared that plants wanted almost as much looking after as daughters.

“I should like to see ’em close,” said Mrs. Silk.  “Come in and ’ave a look at ’em,” responded her neighbour.

Mrs. Silk hesitated and displayed a maidenly coyness far in excess of the needs of the situation.  Then she stepped across, and five seconds later the two matrons, with consternation writ large upon their faces, appeared at their doors again and, exchanging glances across the alley, met in the centre.

They were more surprised an evening or two later to see Mr. Wilks leave his house to pay a return visit, bearing in his hand a small bunch of his cherished blooms.  That they were blooms which would have paid the debt of Nature in a few hours at most in no way detracted from the widow’s expressions of pleasure at receiving them, and Mr. Wilks, who had been invited over to cheer up Mr. Silk, who was in a particularly black mood, sat and smiled like a detected philanthropist as she placed them in water.

[Illustration:  “A return visit.”]

“Good evenin’, Teddy,” he said, breezily, with a side-glance at his hostess.  “What a lovely day we’ve ’ad.”

“So bright,” said Mrs. Silk, nodding with spirit.

Mr. Wilks sat down and gave vent to such a cheerful laugh that the ornaments on the mantelpiece shook with it.  “It’s good to be alive,” he declared.

“Ah, you enjoy your life, Mr. Wilks,” said the widow.

“Enjoy it!” roared Mr. Wilks; “enjoy it!  Why shouldn’t I?  Why shouldn’t everybody enjoy their lives?  It was what they was given to us for.”