"'E never comed 'ome at all.

When 'e seed me 'e didn't know me, 'e was that blind droonk.

When my little brother was born 'e was 'owlin' wild down Watchet way, an' screechin' to all the folks as 'ow the baby wasn't his'n!" This was a doubtful subject,--a "delicate and burning question," as reviewers for the press say when they want to praise some personal friend's indecent novel and pass it into decent households,--and Helmsley let it drop.

He devoted himself to the consideration of his breakfast, which was excellent, and found that he had an appetite to enjoy it thoroughly.
Prue watched him for a minute or two in silence.
"Ye likes yer food ?" she demanded, presently.
"Very much!" "Thought yer did! I'll tell Mis' Tranter." With that she retired, and shutting the door behind her left Helmsley to himself.
Many and conflicting were the thoughts that chased one another through his brain during the quiet half-hour he gave to his morning meal,--a whole fund of new suggestions and ideas were being generated in him by the various episodes in which he was taking an active yet seemingly passive part.

He had voluntarily entered into his present circumstances, and so far, he had nothing to complain of.