It must ha’ been pretty near four years since George Dixon ’ad run off to sea when Charlie, who was sitting in the bar one arternoon reading the paper, things being dull, saw a man’s head peep through the door for a minute and then disappear. A’most direckly arterward it looked in at another door and then disappeared agin. When it looked in at the third door Charlie ’ad put down ’is paper and was ready for it. “Who are you looking for?” he ses, rather sharp. “Wot d’ye want? Are you ’aving a game of peepbo, or wot?” The man coughed and smiled, and then ’e pushed the door open gently and came in, and stood there fingering ’is beard as though ’e didn’t know wot to say. “I’ve come back, Charlie,” he ses at last. “Wot, _George!_” ses Charlie, starting. “Why, I didn’t know you in that beard. We all thought you was dead, years ago.” “I was pretty nearly, Charlie,” ses Dixon, shaking his ’ead. “Ah! I’ve ’ad a terrible time since I left ’once.” “‘You don’t seem to ha’ made your fortune,” ses Charlie, looking down at ’is clothes. “I’d ha’ been ashamed to come ’ome like that if it ’ad been me.” “I’m wore out,” ses Dixon, leaning agin the bar. “I’ve got no pride left; it’s all been knocked out of me. How’s Julia?” “She’s all right,” ses Charlie. “Here, Ju—” “_H’sh!_” ses Dixon, reaching over the bar and laying his ’and on his arm. “Don’t let ’er know too sudden; break it to ’er gently.” “Fiddlesticks!” ses Charlie, throwing his ’and off and calling, “Here, _Julia!_ He’s come back.” Mrs. Dixon came running downstairs and into the bar. “Good gracious!” she ses, staring at her ’usband. “Whoever’d ha’ thought o’ seeing you agin? Where ’ave you sprung from?” “Ain’t you glad to see me, Julia?” ses George Dixon. “Yes, I s’pose so; if you’ve come back to behave yourself,” ses Mrs. Dixon. “What ’ave you got to say for yourself for running away and then writing them letters, telling me to get rid of my relations?” “That’s a long time ago, Julia,” ses Dixon, raising the flap in the counter and going into the bar. “I’ve gone through a great deal o’ suffering since then. I’ve been knocked about till I ’adn’t got any feeling left in me; I’ve been shipwrecked, and I’ve ’ad to fight for my life with savages.” “Nobody asked you to run away,” ses his wife, edging away as he went to put his arm round ’er waist. “You’d better go upstairs and put on some decent clothes.” [Illustration] Dixon looked at ’er for a moment and then he ’ung his ’ead. “I’ve been thinking o’ you and of seeing you agin every day since I went away, Julia,” he ses. “You’d be the same to me if you was dressed in rags.” He went upstairs without another word, and old Burge, who was coming down, came down five of ’em at once owing to Dixon speaking to ’im afore he knew who ’e was. The old man was still grumbling when Dixon came down agin, and said he believed he’d done it a-purpose.