Within a few hours
it was despatched to another firm of publishers, taken at random from
the advertisement columns of the Times. An hour or two afterwards
Alfred arrived, with no label around his neck, but a veritable truant.
Of the two he was the more self-possessed as he greeted his amazed
parent.
"I am sorry if you are angry about my coming, father," he said, a little
tremulously. "Something seems to have happened to mother during the
last few days. Everything that I do displeases her."
"I am not angry," Burton declared, after a moment's amazed silence.
"The only thing is," he added, glancing helplessly around, "I don't know
what to do with you. I have no servants here and only my one little
bed."
The child smiled. He appeared to consider these matters unimportant.
"You eat things sometimes, I suppose, daddy?" he said, apologetically.
"I left home before breakfast this morning and it took me some time to
find my way here."
"Sit down for five minutes," Burton directed him, "and I'll take you out
somewhere."
Burton was glad to get into the privacy of his small bedroom and sit
down for a moment. The thing was amazing enough when it had happened to
himself. It was, perhaps, more amazing still to watch its effect upon
Mr.
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