"Surely Burton has told you that?" said Mr. Stiles.
"Never breathed a word of it," said the widow, gazing somewhat
reproachfully at the discomfited Mr. Burton.
"Well, tell it now, Burton," said Mr. Stiles.
"You tell it better than I do, sir," said the other.
"No, no," said Mr. Stiles, whose powers of invention were not always to
be relied upon. "You tell it; it's your story."
The widow looked from one to the other. "It's your story, sir," said Mr.
Burton.
"No, I won't tell it," said Mr. Stiles. "It wouldn't be fair to you,
Burton. I'd forgotten that when I spoke. Of course, you were young at
the time, still----"
"I done nothing that I'm ashamed of, sir," said Mr. Burton, trembling
with passion.
"I think it's very hard if I'm not to hear it," said Mrs. Dutton, with
her most fascinating air.
Mr. Stiles gave her a significant glance, and screwing up his lips nodded
in the direction of Mr. Burton.
"At any rate, you were in the chimney with me, sir," said that
unfortunate.
"Ah!" said the other, severely. "But what was I there for, my man?"
Mr. Burton could not tell him; he could only stare at him in a frenzy of
passion and dismay.
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