The Double Life Of Mr. Alfred Burton

ived on very little, but the weekly amount must always be sent to Garden Green. There came a time when he broke in upon the last five pound note of his savings. He realized the position with

ng paper left upon a seat in the Park. He had no sooner eaten and drunk with the former than he opened the latter. There was an article on the front page entitled "London Awake." He read it line by line and laughed. It was all so ridiculously simple. He hurried back to his rooms and wrote a much better one on "London Asleep." He was master of his subject. He wrote of what he had seen with effortless and sublime verity. Why not? Simply with the aid of pen and ink he transferre

ors at present," he was told a little

Burton confessed, "but this is much better than 'Lo

newspaper looked at h

t get beginner's stuff like that. I don't think it will be th

dinary-looking production. The sub-editor very nearly threw it contemptuously back. Instead he glanced at it, frowned, read a little more, and w

his yourself

t is really worth putting in your paper

the editor persisted. "Where

at him in mi

see as I pass alo

, half-educated little person, with only the burning eyes and sensitive mouth to redeem him from utter insignificance! Truly this was a strange finger which opened the eyes of some and kept sealed the eyelids of others! For fifteen years this very cu

ked, with ill-con

l, a man. He set his teeth a

he said calmly. "We shall be glad to accept it, and anything else you may

a long sig

d. "How much shall

uction. It was not an easy matter, owing to the

s be satisfactor

, "and I should like it now, at once, plea

or rang for

," he remarked. "Yo

now because we see things differently. I have also a little boy. T

o? What is you

used to be an auctioneer's clerk, but I lo

he sub-editor asked, leaning a litt

'London Awake.' I thought if that sort of thing was worth printing, it was worth paying for, so I t

handed him hi

u bring me so

" Burton replied pr

itor shook

r choose your

diffidently. "I can't describe it properly. I can only just p

ditor told him. "You needn't bother about the descr

red that between him and the multitudes of his fellow-creatures there was a difference. Everything he saw, he saw through the clear white light. There were no mists to cloud his vision, there was no halo of idealism hovering around the objects upon which his eyes rested. It was the truth he saw, and nothing beyond it. He compared his own work with work of a similar character written by well-known men, and his understanding became more complete. He found in their work a touch of personality, a shade of self-consciousness about the description of even the m

ee him. He sent them a little extra money, and he wrote as kindly as possible. He wanted to do the right thing; he was even anxious about it. He determined th

s knickerbockers. Her dress was of black velveteen, fitting a little tightly over her corsets, and showing several imperfectly removed stains and creases. She wore tan shoes, one of which was down at the heel, and primrose-colored gloves. Alfred wore his usual black Sunday suit, a lace collar around his neck about a foot wid

, sharply. "Do as you're to

d, her expression a mixture of defiance and appeal. Burton welcomed them both calmly. His tongue failed him, however, when he tried to embark upon t

re glad to see us?" Ellen

," he replied, tactfully, "I sh

en ordered, twisting th

ce, then, and s

action, was carried out in perfunctory fashion. Burton, secretl

"Lyons', if you like. There is music th

ven't set eyes on us for Lord knows how lon

n would have thought of choosing for him, but in a dim sort of way she recognized its qualities. She recognized, too, so

nd told me you'd lost your job at Waddington's months ago. And here you are, all in new clothes, and not a word about coming back

tea-time," Burt

nd with every appearance of complete satisfaction. Burton had chosen a place as near the band as possible, with a view to rendering conversation more or less difficult. Ellen, ho

egard of neighbors. "Haven't we lived for ten years, husband and wife, at Clematis Villa, and you as happy and satisfied with his home as a man could be? And now, all of a sudden,

say anything to them?" Burt

e top from her hat. Little Alfred, terrified by an angry frown from the cornet player, was hastily returning fragments of partially consumed bun

ularly to your meals for six years, do you suppose you can disappear and not have people curious? Do you suppose you can leave your w

Burton declared, gently

u've got the sack f

ted. "I have found so

hose dyed feathers to which he obje

money in the Savings

" he replied, "but I am in a position now to replace it. You

She took them with shaking fingers. She was beginning to lo

aid, "why don't you dr

ith us this

ed at him in a way he had once found fascinating-her chin thrown forward, her cheeks

got a nice steak in the house, been hanging, and Mrs. Cross could come in and cook it while we are out. Mr. Johnson would sing to us afterw

. It was perfectly true that he had been accustomed to look forward to band nights. It was true that he used to like to have a neighbor in to supper afterwards, and play the fool with

ll write-or see you again soon. Ellen, I'm sorry," he w

tugged at his heart-strings. She had been his woman; the little boy with the sticky mouth was child of his. The bald humanity of his affections for them joined forces for a moment with the simple greatness of his new capacity. Dimly he realized that somewhere behind all these things lurked a truth greater than any he had as yet found. Then, with an almost incredible swiftness, this new emotion began to fade away. His brain began to work, his new fastidiousness asserted itself. A wave of cheap perfume assailed his nostrils. The untidy pretentiousness of her ill-chosen clothes, the unreality of her manner and carriage, the sheer vulgarity of her ch