Burton protested mildly.

“No need to ‘Mr. Burton’ me, Johnson, old fellow!  It shall never be said of me that a great and wonderful rise in the world altered my feelings towards those with whom I was once on terms of intimacy.  I shall always be glad to know you, Johnson.  Thursday evening, isn’t it?  What are you and the wife doing?”

“I don’t know,” Johnson confessed, “that we are doing anything particular.  We shall turn up at the band, I suppose.”

“Good!” Mr. Burton said.  “It will be our last Thursday evening in these parts, I expect, but after I have taken the wife for a little spin we’ll walk round the band-stand ourselves.  Perhaps we shall be able to induce you and Mrs. Johnson to come back and take a little supper with us?”

Mr. Johnson pulled himself together.

“Very kind of you, old cocky,” he declared, tremulously.  “Been striking it thick, haven’t you?”

Burton nodded.

“Dropped across a little thing in the city,” he remarked, flicking the dust from the sleeve of his coat.  “Jolly good spec it turned out.  They made me a director.  It’s this new Menatogen Company.  Heard of it?”

“God bless my soul, of course I have!” Johnson exclaimed.  “Millions in it, they say.  The shares went from par to four premium in half an hour.  I know a man who had a call of a hundred.  He’s cleared four hundred pounds.”

Mr. Burton nodded in a most condescending manner.

“That so?” he remarked.  “I’ve a matter of ten thousand myself, besides some further calls, but I’m not selling just yet.  If your friend’s got any left, you can tell him from me—­and I ought to know as I’m a director—­that the shares will be at nine before long.  Shouldn’t wonder if they didn’t go to twenty.  It’s a grand invention.  Best thing I ever touched in my life.”

Johnson had been finding it chilly a short time ago but he took off his hat now and mopped his forehead.

“Haven’t been home lately, have you?” he remarked.

“To tell you the truth,” Mr. Burton explained, puffing at his cigar, “this little affair has been taking up every minute of my time.  I had to take chambers in town to keep up with my work.  Well, so long, Johnson!  See you later at the band-stand.  Don’t forget we shall be expecting you this evening.  May run you up to the west-end, perhaps, if the missis feels like it.”

He nodded and proceeded on his way to the front door of his domicile.  Mr. Johnson, narrowly escaping an impulse to take off his hat, proceeded on his homeward way.

“Any one at home?” Mr. Burton inquired, letting himself in.

There was no reply.  Mr. Burton knocked with his gold-headed cane upon the side of the wall.  The door at the end of the passage opened abruptly.  Ellen appeared.

“What are you doing there, knocking all the plaster down?” she demanded, sharply.  “If you want to come in, why can’t you ring the bell?  Standing there with your hat on as though the place belonged to you!”