“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.
“Halloa!” he said, suddenly. “Why, are you moving, mother?”
Mrs. Green sniffed sadly and shook her head. “Well,” said Mr. Letts, with an admirable stare, “what's that chap doing with my furniture?”
“Eh?” spluttered Mr. Green. “What?”
“I say, what's he doing with my furniture?” repeated Mr. Letts, sternly.