She moved the chair to let him pass, and Mr. Wilks, still keeping the restraining hand of age on the shoulder of intemperate youth, passed in and stood, smiling amiably, while Mrs. Silk lit the lamp and placed it in the centre of the table, which was laid for supper.  The light shone on a knuckle of boiled pork, a home-made loaf, and a fresh-cut wedge of cheese.

“I suppose you won’t stay and pick a bit o’ sup-per with us?” said Mrs. Silk.

“Why not?” inquired Mr. Wilks.

“I’m sure, if I had known,” said Mrs. Silk, as she piloted him to a seat, “I’d ’ave ’ad something nice.  There, now!  If I ’aven’t been and forgot the beer.”

She left the table and went into the kitchen, and Mr. Wilks’s eyes glistened as she returned with a large brown jug full of foaming ale and filled his glass.

“Teddy mustn’t ’ave any,” he said, sharply, as she prepared to fill that gentleman’s glass.

“Just ’alf a glass,” she said, winsomely.

“Not a drop,” said Mr. Wilks, firmly.

Mrs. Silk hesitated, and screwing up her forehead glanced significantly at her son. “’Ave some by-and-by,” she whispered.

“Give me the jug,” said Mr. Silk, indignantly.  “What are you listening to ’im for?  Can’t you see what’s the matter with ’im?”

“Not to ’ave it,” said Mr. Wilks; “put it ’ere.”

He thumped the table emphatically with his hand, and before her indignant son could interfere Mrs. Silk had obeyed.  It was the last straw.  Mr. Edward Silk rose to his feet with tremendous effect and, first thrusting his plate violently away from him, went out into the night, slamming the door behind him with such violence that the startled Mr. Wilks was nearly blown out of his chair.

“He don’t mean nothing,” said Mrs. Silk, turning a rather scared face to the steward. “’E’s a bit jealous of you, I s’pose.”

Mr. Wilks shook his head.  Truth to tell, he was rather at a loss to know exactly what had happened.

“And then there’s ’is love affair,” sighed Mrs. Silk.  “He’ll never get over the loss of Amelia Kybird.  I always know when ’e ’as seen her, he’s that miserable there’s no getting a word out of ’im.”

Mr. Wilks smiled vaguely and went on with his supper, and, the meal finished, allowed himself to be installed in an easy-chair, while his hostess cleared the table.  He sat and smoked in high good humour with himself, the occasional remarks he made being received with an enthusiasm which they seldom provoked elsewhere.

“I should like t’ sit ’ere all night,” he said, at last.

“I don’t believe it,” said Mrs. Silk, playfully.

“Like t’ sit ’ere all night,” repeated Mr. Wilks, somewhat sternly.  “All nex’ day, all day after, day after that, day——­”

Mrs. Silk eyed him softly.  “Why would you like to sit here all that time?” she inquired, in a low voice.

“B’cause,” said Mr. Wilks, simply, “b’cause I don’t feel’s if I can stand.  Goo’-night.”