He had been away so long that few people remembered him, but his last exploit before leaving ensured that in the minds of those few he remained clear and definite.  His wife, when she set out to meet him, was accompanied by a Reception Committee of three, and as they waited outside the large building where he had been staying for the last few months (his hosts kept several important establishments in various parts of the country and he had spent part of the time at one, part at others), as they waited, I say, under the avenue of trees well away from the front door—having, as a point of delicacy, no desire to be seen by the servants about the place—they speculated on the probable improvement in his personal appearance.  Members of the Committee recalled precedents where So-and-so went away stout and unhealthy on a p. 190vacation of similar length, and came back so trim and brown that his own sweetheart would not have known him had she remained in the neighbourhood.

“Here he is!” cried the wife suddenly.  “I could tell him, bless ’is heart, in a thousan’.”

“That ain’t him!”

“He’s got a short beard, at any rate,” urged the wife, admitting her error grudgingly as the visitor was claimed and marched off by another lady.

“They all ’ave.  Try to use your intelligence, why don’t you!”

“Well,” said the wife, pointing her umbrella at a sharp-eyed man, who, coming out of the large doorway, glanced around suspiciously, “well, at least that’s not my Jim.”  The sharp-eyed man came across the open space towards them, still keeping a look-out on either side.  “He’s mistaking us for his own people.  My Jim’s a better-looking man than him.”

“If you say that again, Meria,” remarked the arriving man in tones that could not be mistaken, “I shall have to—  Now then, now then!  I don’t want no kissing!”

He was dressed in a suit for which he had not been measured, and his boots were scarcely p. 191a precise fit; he shambled along with his friends, responding gruffly to their polite inquiries and complaining bitterly—first, that they should have come to meet him; second, that so many friends were absent.  Informed that some of these were no longer alive, he declined to accept this as a sufficient excuse, describing them as a cantankerous lot, ever thoughtless where the feelings of others were concerned.  They stopped quite naturally at the first place of refreshment, and he criticised the beverage set before him, declaring that had he known beer could be so bad, he would not have worried his thoughts so much about it during recent years.  He was equally dissatisfied with his first pipe of tobacco, which he had some trouble to light, and when he heard that his sister had married a respectable fruiterer, off Bethnal Green Road, he made no attempt to conceal his annoyance with the way the world had been managed during his absence.

“Once I turn my back for a moment—” he said disgustedly.  “Who’s got the pub at the corner of our street?”

“I’ve moved, James,” explained his wife apologetically.

p. 192“Moved?  Who told you to move?”

“The landlord, dear.”

“Don’t you begin ‘dearing’ of me,” he retorted threateningly.  “Why wasn’t I asked?”

“There was no opportunity, James.”

“Bah!” he said, in the manner of one who can find no other repartee.  He turned to the men.  “What ’ave you three come all the way down ere’ for?  On the make, I s’pose?”

“We are not on the make,” said the leader precisely.  “Recollecting what you was put away for, we have come down ’ere to offer you, as something in the nature of a hero, a ’earty welcome on your return to what we may venture to term your ’earth and ’ome.”  James relaxed the sternness of his demeanour, and took another sip from his glass, this time without making a wry face.  “We’re a-going to make a fuss of you, old man.”

“Don’t go overdoing it,” he said grudgingly.

They reached Hoxton at about noon, not because the way was long, but because the Committee, possessing funds, desired to do the thing well.  A neighbour had taken charge of the arrangements for dinner, and the three men, arrived at the door in Hammerton Street, p. 193mentioned gracefully that the reunited pair would in all probability like to be left alone for a few hours, and withdrew; first, however, warning James that he would be expected at the Green Man that evening at eight o’clock precisely, at which hour a few select friends would be present to wish him success in his future career.

“Whad ye mean by my future career?” he demanded.  “What are you three a-getting at now?”

“It’s all right, old chap,” they answered soothingly.  “Only a form of speech, you know.”

“Be a bit more careful how you pick your words,” he retorted threateningly.  “I ’aven’t come back to be ragged by such as you.”

He was still rather surly that evening when he made his appearance at the Green Man; he explained to one who was formerly his closest friend that he had been enjoying a bit of a talk with the wife.  Surroundings in the clubroom were, however, so congenial that before long he showed guarded signs of amiability, albeit he found grounds for annoyance in the fact that some of his old companions had p. 194prospered, and had given up what was referred to as the old game to engage on sport that, relatively speaking, was of an honest, law-abiding character.  His best friend indeed owned a large gold chain and a watch at the end of it; he was now a bookmaker by profession, not, of course, a literary person, but one who made money.  On James suggesting they might perhaps go into partnership together in the racecourse business, the closest friend said, with some reserve, that it was an occupation requiring years of patient study, and the fact of James having been out of the movement so long barred him both from participating in the profits or sharing the losses.

“See what I mean, don’t you?” asked the bookmaker.  “Chuck that what you’re smoking away, and have a real cigar!”

“I shan’t give you another opportunity,” said James curtly.  “Should have thought you would have been glad of a pretty sharp man for your right ’and.”

“But you’ve been rusting,” pointed out the bookmaker.  (“Now you’ve been and bitten off the wrong end.”)

Nothing, however, could exceed the geniality p. 195of the hosts.  Thick crusty sandwiches rested on the deal tables; there was no stint, so far as the guest of the evening was concerned, in regard to liquids.  Everybody crowded around him in a flattering way and everybody shook him by the hand several times; a few promising younger men, who were brought up and introduced, showed themselves highly sensible of the honour, and asked eagerly what adventure he thought of going in for next.

“’Aven’t quite made up me mind,” he repl............