W. Pett Ridge

“ Ballard glanced coyly at the square of unframed looking-glass in the corner of the little shop, "besides, he'll be so overjoyed to see me that——"
"Whenever," said Anne, as her mistress stopped, "in a book I read about anybody being drowned or being carried off for dead by brigands, or falling over a deadly precipice, then I'm always jolly well sure they'll turn up again sooner or later."
"I wonder whether he's made money?"
"Didn't waste much of it over his telegram, mem. It'll be a terrible blow for master, won't it? Like being left a widower." ”

“ Anne brought the telegram up with a tearful countenance. The girl had been reading an affecting story in her weekly journal wherein a lady, rather than accept the honourable but undesired advances of a wealthy nobleman, had decided to become a journalist, and Anne had been assisting at the pathetic departure from the old homestead. Mrs. Ballard snatched the telegram from her, bidding her to return at once to the little shop below. The foreign telegram had been handed in at Sydney; it was addressed to Long, Swan Lane, London, and contained these words: "Coming home. Long." ”

“ Ballard, when she had exhausted her stock of acrimonious criticism, "it's no use talking to you, James. Nothing but a sheer waste of words."
"I was going to suggest that," remarked Mr. Ballard respectfully.
"There never was but one man in this world."
"So I've 'eard you say."
"A better and a kinder and a more thoughtfuller 'usband never existed this side of 'eaven. There's his portrait," added Mrs. Ballard, pointing to a coloured photograph of her first mate which hung in a heavy gilt frame on the wall. "That'll prove that I'm speaking the truth, if nothing else won't." ”

“ You'll 'ave to get up the other end, ma'am, for Chelsea."
On board the Hirondelle the seats were crowded, and a quiet, straw-hatted man gave up his seat to Mrs. Ballard. She nodded her thanks without looking at him; he sighed and walked off to the paddle-wheel.
"Your 'usband, mem," whispered Anne.
"Which one?" asked Mrs. Ballard excitedly.
"Why, the real one," said Jane.
"Oh, Samuel! To think that after all these years——"
"No, no! It's Mr. Ballard. Shall I go and ask him to come over here?"
"Certainly not, Anne. It's best we shouldn't be seen together." ”

“ I'm due down at the Custom House in five minutes; let's give each other a kiss——"
Mrs. Ballard gave a little cry of horror.
"——and be friends. Only do try to give that first 'usband of yours a bit of a rest. It can't amuse him being always thrown in my face, and I'll take my solemn oath it don't give me no particular pleasure."
"Ah!" sighed Mrs. Ballard, patting her eyes with the corner of her pink apron, "if he was only back again on this earth. I never realised what a good man he really was until he was gone. I'm quite willing, James, to agree never to speak of him again——"
"Good!" ”

“ But let something occur of a startling character in Egypt, and the public eye leaves China at once, although that country may still be providing tumult and doing its best to retain the world's attention. ”

“ He never would wear a collar more than two days running."
Mrs. Ballard and her maid went down the lane and booked for Chelsea. It was a summer evening, and several other passengers were waiting on the pier, anxious to get a breath of river air after a warm day of work. Mrs. Ballard wore a new hat which she had purchased in the first gush of excitement after the receipt of the telegram, and looked a very presentable, comfortable young woman, with a definite chin showing below her veil. ”