So they went into the hydro together， Sidney caressing hiswonderful new pearl-inlaid banjo； and Horace talked in lowtones to Ella as she lay on the sofa. He convinced Ella thathis departure to Germany was the one thing he had desired allhis life， because it was not good that Ella should be startled，shocked， or grieved.
They dined well.
But in the night Sidney had a recurrence of his old illness—abad attack； and Horace sat up through the dark hours， fetchedthe doctor， and bought things at the chemist’s. Towards morningSidney was better. And Horace， standing near the bed， gazedat his stepbrother and tried in his stupid way to read the secretsbeneath that curly hair. But he had no success. He caughthimself calculating how much Sidney had cost him， at periodsof his career when he could ill spare money； and， having caughthimself， he was angry with himself for such baseness. At eighto’clock he ventured to knock at Ella’s door and explain to herthat Sidney had not been quite well. She had passed a peacefulnight， for he had， of course， refrained from disturbing her.
He was not quite sure whether Sidney had meant him tostay at the hydro as his guest， so he demanded a bill， paid it，said good-bye， and left for Bonn-on-the-Rhine. He was veryexhausted and sleepy. Happily the third-class carriages on theLondon & North-Western are pretty comfortable. BetweenChester and Crewe he had quite a doze， and dreamed that hehad married Ella after all， and that her twenty thousand poundshad put the earthenware business on a footing of magnificentand splendid security.
VA few months later Horace’s house and garden at Toft Endwere put up to auction by arrangement with his mortgagee andhis trade-creditors. And Sidney was struck with the idea of buyingthe place. The impression was that it would go cheap. Sidneysaid it would be a pity to let the abode pass out of the family. Ellasaid that the idea of buying it was a charming one， because in thegarden it was that she had first met her Sidney. So the place wasduly bought， and Sidney and Ella went to live there.
Several years elapsed.
Then one day little Horace was informed that his uncleHorace， whom he had never seen， was coming to the house ona visit， and that he must be a good boy， and polite to his uncle，and all the usual sort of thing.
And in effect Horace the elder did arrive in the afternoon. Hefound no one to meet him at the station， or at the garden gate ofthe pleasaunce that had once been his， or even at the front door.
A pert parlour-maid told him that her master and mistress wereupstairs in the nursery， and that he was requested to go up.
And he went up， and to be sure Sidney met him at the top ofthe stairs， banjo in hand， cigarette in mouth， smiling， easy andelegant as usual—not a trace of physical weakness in his faceor form. And Horace was jocularly ushered into the nurseryand introduced to his nephew. Ella had changed. She wasno longer slim， and no longer gay and serious by turns. Shenarrowly missed being stout， and she was continuously gay，like Sidney. The child was also gay. Everybody was glad tosee Horace， but nobody seemed deeply interested in Horace’saffairs. As a fact he had done rather well in Germany， andhad now come back to England in order to assume a workingpartnership in a small potting concern at Hanbridge. He wasvirtually beginning life afresh. But what concerned Sidney andElla was themselves and their offspring. They talked incessantlyabout the infinitesimal details of their daily existence， and thealterations which they had made， or meant to make， in the houseand garden. And occasionally Sidney thrummed a tune on thebanjo to amuse the infant. Horace had expected them to becurious about Germany and his life in Germany. But not a bit！
He might have come in from the next street and left them onlyyesterday， for all the curiosity they exhibited.
‘shall we go down to the drawing-room and have tea， eh？’
said Ella.
‘Yes， let’s go and kill the fatted calf，’ said Sidney.
And strangely enough， inexplicably enough， Horace did feellike a prodigal.
Sidney went off with his precious banjo， and Ella picked upsundry belongings without which she never travelled about thehouse.
‘You carry me down-stairs， unky？’ the little nephewsuggested， with an appealing glance at his new uncle. ‘No，’
said Horace， ‘I’m dashed if I do！’
