He went home, wondering whether any urgent calls had been made upon him during this morning's absence; and was standing behind the counter, questioning Sam, when a sunburnt little gentleman walked in. Frank gazed at him in amazement: for it was Mr. Max Brown. "How are you, Raynor?" cried the traveller, grasping Frank's hand cordially. "My goodness!" exclaimed Frank. "Have you dropped from the moon?" "I dropped last from the Southampton train. Got into port last night." "All well?" "_Very_ well. And my good old mother is not dead yet." There was no mistaking the stress upon the first word: no mistaking the perfectly contented air that distinguished Mr. Max Brown's whole demeanour. Whatever cause might have detained him so long from his home and country, it did not appear to be an unpleasant one. "There was a young lady in the case," he acknowledged, entering on his explanation with a smile on his bronzed face. "Lota Elmaine; old Elmaine the planter's only daughter. The old man would not let us be married: Lota was too young, he said; the marriage should not take place until she was in Europe. Will you believe it, Raynor, old Elmaine has kept me on like that all the blessed time I have been away, perpetually saying he was coming over here, and never coming! Never a month passed but he gave out he should sail the next." "And so you stayed also!" "I stayed also. I would not leave Lota to be snapped up by some covetous rascal in my absence. Truth to tell, I could not part with her on my own score." "And where is Miss Lota Elmaine?" "No longer in existence. She is Mrs. Max Brown. "Then you have brought her over with you!" "Poor Elmaine died a few months ago; and Lota had a touch of the native fever, which left her thin and prostrate: so I persuaded her to marry me off-hand that I might bring her here for a change. She is better already. The voyage has done her no end of good." "Where is she?" "At a private hotel in Westminster. We have taken up our quarters there for the time being." "Until you can come here," assumed Frank. "I suppose you want me to clear out as soon as possible. My wife is ill----" "I want you to stay for good, if you will," interrupted Mr. Brown. "The business is excellent, you know, better than when I left it. If you will take to it I shall make it quite easy for you." "What are you going to do yourself?" questioned Frank. "Nothing at present," said Mr. Max Brown. "Lota's relatives on the mother's side live in Wales, and she wants to go amongst them for a time. Perhaps I shall set up in practice there. Lota's fortune is more than enough for us, but I should be miserable with nothing to do. Will you take to this concern, Raynor?" "I think not," replied Frank, shaking his head. "My wife does not like the neighbourhood."