“I was shipwrecked,” repeated Mr. Letts, nodding.

“And had brain-fever after it through being in the water so long, and lost his memory,” continued Mrs. Green.

“It’s wonderful what water will do—­salt water,” said Mr. Letts, in confirmation.

Miss Foster sighed, and, raising the hand which was round her waist, bent her head and kissed it.  Mr. Letts colored, and squeezed her convulsively.

Assisted by Mrs. Green he became reminiscent, and, in a low voice, narrated such incidents of his career as had escaped the assaults of the brain-fever.  That his head was not permanently injured was proved by the perfect manner in which he remembered incidents of his childhood narrated by his newly found mother and sister.  He even volunteered one or two himself which had happened when the latter was a year or two old.

“And now,” said Mrs. Green, in a somewhat trembling voice, “we must go and tell your step-father.”

Mr. Letts responded, but without briskness, and, with such moral support as an arm of each could afford, walked slowly back.  Arrived at a road of substantial cottages at the back of the town, Mrs. Green gasped, and, coming to a standstill, nodded at a van that stood half-way up the road.

“There it is,” she exclaimed.

“What?” demanded Mr. Letts.

“The furniture I told you about,” said Mrs. Green.  “The furniture that your poor father thought such a lot of, because it used to belong to his grandfather.  He’s selling it to Simpson, though I begged and prayed him not to.”

Mr. Letts encouraged himself with a deep cough.  “My furniture?” he demanded.

Mrs. Green took courage.  “Yes,” she said, hope-fully; “your father left it to you.”

Mr. Letts, carrying his head very erect, took a firmer grip of their arms and gazed steadily at a disagreeable-looking man who was eying them in some astonishment from the doorway.  With arms still linked they found the narrow gateway somewhat difficult, but they negotiated it by a turning movement, and, standing in the front garden, waited while Mrs. Green tried to find her voice.

[Illustration:  “A disagreeable-looking man was eying them in some astonishment from the doorway.”]

“Jack,” she said at last, “this is your stepfather.”

Mr. Letts, in some difficulty as to the etiquette on such occasions, released his right arm and extended his hand.

“Good-evening, stepfather,” he said, cheerfully.

Mr. Green drew back a little and regarded him unfavorably.

“We—­we thought you was drowned,” he said at last.

“I was nearly,” said Mr. Letts.

“We all thought so,” pursued Mr. Green, grudgingly.  “Everybody thought so.”

He stood aside, as a short, hot-faced man, with a small bureau clasped in his arms and supported on his knees, emerged from the house and staggered towards the gate.  Mr. Letts reflected.