NIGHT WATCHES

by W. W. Jacobs. 

CONTENTS:

BACK TO BACK

KEEPING WATCH

THE UNDERSTUDY

THE WEAKER VESSEL

STEPPING BACKWARDS

THE THREE SISTERS

THE UNKNOWN

THE VIGIL

EASY MONEY

HIS OTHER SELF

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS:

"oh, Bill!" She Gasped. "and by Daylight, Too!"

"i'd Pretty Well Swear he Ain't the Same Dog"

"you--you Had Better Let Me Take Care of That"

"i Hope They Won't Meet 'er, Pore Thing, " he Ses. 

Mrs. Ward and Her Daughter Flung Themselves Hastily Between the Sergeant-major and his Intended Sacrifice

 I Got out at Last by Playing a Game on Her

BACK TO BACK

Mrs. Scutts, concealed behind the curtain, gazed at the cab in uneasyamazement. The cabman clambered down from the box and, opening thedoor, stood by with his hands extended ready for any help that might beneeded. A stranger was the first to alight, and, with his back towardsMrs. Scutts, seemed to be struggling with something in the cab. Heplaced a dangling hand about his neck and, staggering under the weight, reeled backwards supporting Mr. Scutts, whose other arm was round theneck of a third man. In a flash Mrs. Scutts was at the door. 

"Oh, Bill!" she gasped. "And by daylight, too!"

Mr. Scutts raised his head sharply and his lips parted; then his headsank again, and he became a dead weight in the grasp of his assistants. 

"He's all right, " said one of them, turning to Mrs. Scutts. 

A deep groan from Mr. Scutts confirmed the statement. 

"What is it?" inquired his wife, anxiously. 

"Just a little bit of a railway accident, " said one of the strangers. "Train ran into some empty trucks. Nobody hurt--seriously, " he added, in response to a terrible and annoyed groan from Mr. Scutts. 

With his feet dragging helplessly, Mr. Scutts was conveyed over his owndoorstep and placed on the sofa. 

"All the others went off home on their own legs, " said one of thestrangers, reproachfully. "He said he couldn't walk, and he wouldn't goto a hospital. "

"Wanted to die at home, " declared the sufferer. "I ain't going to becut about at no 'ospitals. "

The two strangers stood by watching him; then they looked at each other. 

"I don't want--no--'ospitals, " gasped Mr. Scutts, "I'm going to have myown doctor. "

"Of course the company will pay the doctor's bill, " said one of thestrangers to Mrs. Scutts, "or they'll send their own doctor. I expecthe'll be all right to-morrow. "

"I 'ope so, " said Mr. Scutts, "but I don't think it. Thank you forbringing of me 'ome. "

He closed his eyes languidly, and kept them closed until the men haddeparted. 

"Can't you walk, Bill?" inquired the tearful Mrs. Scutts. 

Her husband shook his head. "You go and fetch the doctor, " he said, slowly. "That new one round the corner. "

"He looks such a boy, " objected Mrs. Scutts. 

"You go and fetch 'im, " said Mr. Scutts, raising his voice. "D'yehear!"

"But--" began his wife. 

"If I get up to you, my gal, " said the forgetful Mr. Scutts, "you'llknow it. "

"Why, I thought--" said his wife, in surprise. 

Mr. Scutts raised himself on the sofa and shook his fist at her. Then, as a tribute to appearances, he sank back and groaned again. Mrs. Scutts, looking somewhat relieved, took her bonnet from a nail anddeparted. 

The examination was long and tedious, but Mr. Scutts, beyond remarkingthat he felt chilly, made no complaint. He endeavoured, but in vain, toperform the tests suggested, and even did his best to stand, supportedby his medical attendant. Self-preservation is the law of Nature, andwhen Mr. Scutts's legs and back gave way he saw to it that the doctorwas underneath. 

"We'll have to get you up to bed, " said the latter, rising slowly anddusting himself. 

Mr. Scutts, who was lying full length on the floor, acquiesced, and senthis wife for some neighbours. One of them was a professional furniture-remover, and, half-way up the narrow stairs, the unfortunate had toremind him that he was dealing with a British working man, and not apiano. Four pairs of hands deposited Mr. Scutts with mathematicalprecision in the centre of the bed and then proceeded to tuck him in, while Mrs. Scutts drew the sheet in a straight line under his chin. 

"Don't look much the matter with 'im, " said one of the assistants. 

"You can't tell with a face like that, " said the furniture-remover. "It's wot you might call a 'appy face. Why, he was 'arf smiling as we, carried 'im up the stairs. "

"You're a liar, " said Mr. Scutts, opening his eyes. 

"All right, mate, " said the furniture-remover; "all right. There's nocall to get annoyed about it. Good old English pluck, I call it. Whered'you feel the pain?"

"All over, " said Mr. Scutts, briefly. 

His neighbours regarded him with sympathetic eyes, and then, led by thefurniture-remover, filed out of the room on tip-toe. The doctor, with afew parting instructions, also took his departure. 

"If you're not better by the morning, " he said, pausing at the door, "you must send for your club doctor. "

Mr. Scutts, in a feeble voice, thanked him, and lay with a twisted smileon his face listening to his wife's vivid narrative to the little crowdwhich had collected at the front door. She came back, followed by thenext-door neighbour, Mr. James Flynn, whose offers of assistance rangedfrom carrying Mr. Scutts out pick-a-back when he wanted to take the air, to filling his pipe for him and fetching his beer. 

"But I dare say you'll be up and about in a couple o' days, " heconcluded. "You wouldn't look so well if you'd got anything serious thematter; rosy, fat cheeks and----"

"That'll do, " said the indignant invalid. "It's my back that's hurt, not my face. "

"I know, " said Mr. Flynn, nodding sagely; "but if it was hurt bad yourface would be as white as that sheet-whiter. "

"The doctor said as he was to be kep' quiet, " remarked Mrs. Scutts, sharply. 

"Right-o, " said Mr. Flynn. "Ta-ta, old pal. Keep your pecker up, andif you want your back rubbed with turps, or anything of that sort, justknock on the wall. "

He went, before Mr. Scutts could think of a reply suitable for aninvalid and, at the same time, bristling with virility. A sinful andfoolish desire to leap out of bed and help Mr. Flynn downstairs made himmore rubicund than ever. 

He sent for the club doctor next morning, and, pending his arrival, partook of a basin of arrowroot and drank a little beef-tea. A bottleof castor-oil and an empty pill-box on the table by the bedside added alittle local colour to the scene. 

"Any pain?" inquired the doctor, after an examination in which bony andvery cold fingers had played a prominent part. 

"Not much pain, " said Mr. Scutts. "Don't seem to have no strength in myback. "

"Ah!" said the doctor. 

"I tried to get up this morning to go to my work, " said Mr. Scutts, "butI can't stand! couldn't get out of bed. "

"Fearfully upset, he was, pore dear, " testified Mrs. Scutts. "He can'tbear losing a day. I s'pose--I s'pose the railway company will 'ave todo something if it's serious, won't they, sir?"

"Nothing to do with me, " said the doctor. "I'll put him on the club fora few days; I expect he will be all right soon. He's got a healthycolour--a very healthy colour. "

Mr. Scutts waited until he had left the house and then made a fewremarks on the colour question that for impurity of English and strengthof diction have probably never been surpassed. 

A second visitor that day came after dinner--a tall man in a frock-coat, bearing in his hand a silk hat, which, after a careful survey of theroom, he hung on a knob of the bedpost. 

"Mr. Scutts?" he inquired, bowing. 

"That's me, " said Mr. Scutts, in a feeble voice. 

"I've called from the railway company, " said the stranger. "We haveseen now all those who left their names and addresses on Mondayafternoon, and I am glad to say that nobody was really hurt. Nobody. "

Mr. Scutts, in a faint voice, said he was glad to hear it. 

"Been a wonder if they had, " said the other, cheerfully. "Why, even thepaint wasn't knocked off the engine. The most serious damage appears tobe two top-hats crushed and an umbrella broken. "

He leaned over the bed-rail and laughed joyously. Mr. Scutts, throughhalf-closed eyes, gazed at him in silent reproach. 

"I don't say that one or two people didn't receive a little bit of ashock to their nerves, " said the visitor, thoughtfully. "One lady evenstayed in bed next day. However, I made it all right with them. Thecompany is very generous, and although of course there is no legalobligation, they made several of them a present of a few pounds, so thatthey could go away for a little change, or anything of that sort, toquiet their nerves. "

Mr. Scutts, who had been listening with closed eyes, opened themlanguidly and said, "Oh. "

"I gave one gentleman twen-ty pounds!" said the visitor, jingling somecoins in his trouser-pocket. "I never saw a man so pleased and gratefulin my life. When he signed the receipt for it--I always get them tosign a receipt, so that the company can see that I haven't kept themoney for myself--he nearly wept with joy. "

"I should think he would, " said Mr. Scutts, slowly--"if he wasn't hurt. "

"You're the last on my list, " said the other, hastily. He produced aslip of paper from his pocket-book and placed it on the small table, with a fountain pen. Then, with a smile that was both tender andplayful, he plunged his hand in his pocket and poured a stream of goldon the table. 

"What do you say to thir-ty pounds?" he said, in a hushed voice. "Thirty golden goblins?"

"What for?" inquired Mr. Scutts, with a notable lack of interest. 

"For--well, to go away for a day or two, " said the visitor. "I find youin bed; it may be a cold or a bilious attack; or perhaps you had alittle upset of the nerves when the trains kissed each other. "

"I'm in bed--because--I can't walk-or stand, " said Mr. Scutts, speakingvery distinctly. "I'm on my club, and if as 'ow I get well in a day ortwo, there's no reason why the company should give me any money. I'mpore, but I'm honest. "

"Take my advice as a friend, " said the other; "take the money while youcan get it. "

He nodded significantly at Mr. Scutts and closed one eye. Mr. Scuttsclosed both of his. 

"I 'ad my back hurt in the collision, " he said, after a long pause. "I'ad to be helped 'ome. So far it seems to get worse, but I 'ope for thebest. "

"Dear me, " said the visitor; "how sad! I suppose it has been coming onfor a long time. Most of these back cases do. At least all the doctorssay so. "

"It was done in the collision, " said Mr. Scutts, mildly but firmly. "Iwas as right as rain before then. "

The visitor shook his head and smiled. "Ah! you would have greatdifficulty in proving that, " he said, softly; "in fact, speaking as manto man, I don't mind telling you it would be impossible. I'm afraid I'mexceeding my duty, but, as you're the last on my list, suppose--supposewe say forty pounds. Forty! A small fortune. "

He added some more gold to the pile on the table, and gently tapped Mr. Scutts's arm with the end of the pen. 

"Good afternoon, " said the invalid. 

The visitor, justly concerned at his lack of intelligence, took a seaton the edge of the bed and spoke to him as a friend and a brother, butin vain. Mr. Scutts reminded him at last that it was medicine-time, after which, pain and weakness permitting, he was going to try to get alittle sleep. 

"Forty pounds!" he said to his wife, after the official had departed. "Why didn't 'e offer me a bag o' sweets?"

"It's a lot o' money, " said Mrs. Scutts, wistfully. 

"So's a thousand, " said her husband. "I ain't going to 'ave my backbroke for nothing, I can tell you. Now, you keep that mouth o' yoursshut, and if I get it, you shall 'ave a new pair o' boots. "

"A thousand!" exclaimed the startled Mrs. Scutts. "Have you took leaveof your senses, or what?"

"I read a case in the paper where a man got it, " said Mr. Scutts. "He'ad his back 'urt too, pore chap. How would you like to lay on yourback all your life for a thousand pounds?"

"Will you 'ave to lay abed all your life?" inquired his wife, staring. 

"Wait till I get the money, " said Mr. Scutts; "then I might be able totell you better. "

He gazed wistfully at the window. It was late October, but the sunshone and the air was clear. The sound of traffic and cheerful voicesascended from the little street. To Mr. Scutts it all seemed to be apart of a distant past. 

"If that chap comes round to-morrow and offers me five hundred, " hesaid, slowly, "I don't know as I won't take it. I'm sick of this mouldybed. "

He waited expectantly next day, but nothing happened, and after a weekof bed he began to realize that the job might be a long one. Themonotony, to a man of his active habits, became almost intolerable, andthe narrated adventures of Mr. James Flynn, his only caller, filled himwith an uncontrollable longing to be up and doing. 

The fine weather went, and Mr. Scutts, in his tumbled bed, lay watchingthe rain beating softly on the window-panes. Then one morning he awoketo the darkness of a London fog. 

"It gets worse and worse, " said Mrs. Scutts, as she returned home in theafternoon with a relish for his tea. "Can't see your 'and before yourface. "

Mr. Scutts looked thoughtful. He ate his tea in silence, and after hehad finished lit his pipe and sat up in bed smoking. 

"Penny for your thoughts, " said his wife. 

"I'm going out, " said Mr. Scutts, in a voice that defied opposition. "I'm going to 'ave a walk, and when I'm far enough away I'm going to'ave one or two drinks. I believe this fog is sent a-purpose to save mylife. "

Mrs. Scutts remonstrated, but in vain, and at half-past six the invalid, with his cap over his eyes and a large scarf tied round the lower partof his face, listened for a moment at his front door and thendisappeared in the fog. 

Left to herself, Mrs. Scutts returned to the bedroom and, poking thetiny fire into a blaze, sat and pondered over the willfulness of men. 

She was awakened from a doze by a knocking at the street-door. It wasjust eight o'clock, and, inwardly congratulating her husband on hisreturn to common sense and home, she went down and opened it. Two tallmen in silk hats entered the room. 

"Mrs. Scutts?" said one of them. 

Mrs. Scutts, in a dazed fashion, nodded. 

"We have come to see your husband, " said the intruder. "I am a doctor. "

The panic-stricken Mrs. Scutts tried in vain to think. 

"He-he's asleep, " she said, at last. 

"Doesn't matter, " said the doctor. 

"Not a bit, " said his companion. 

"You--you can't see him, " protested Mrs. Scutts. "He ain't to be seen. "

"He'd be sorry to miss me, " said the doctor, eyeing her keenly as shestood on guard by the inner door. "I suppose he's at home?"

"Of course, " said Mrs. Scutts, stammering and flushing. "Why, the poreman can't stir from his bed. "

"Well, I'll just peep in at the door, then, " said the doctor. "I won'twake him. You can't object to that. If you do--"

Mrs. Scutts's head began to swim. "I'll go up and see whether he'sawake, " she said. 

She closed the door on them and stood with her hand to her throat, thinking. Then, instead of going upstairs, she passed into the yardand, stepping over the fence, opened Mr. Flynn's back door. 

"Halloa!" said that gentleman, who was standing in the sculleryremoving mud from his boots. "What's up?"

In a frenzied gabble Mrs. Scutts told him. "You must be 'im, " she said, clutching him by the coat and dragging him towards the door. "They'venever seen 'im, and they won't know the difference. "

"But--" exclaimed the astonished James. 

"Quick!" she said, sharply. "Go into the back room and undress, thennip into his room and get into bed. And mind, be fast asleep all thetime. "

Still holding the bewildered Mr. Flynn by the coat, she led him into thehouse and waved him upstairs, and stood below listening until a slightcreaking of the bed announced that he had obeyed orders. Then sheentered the parlour. 

"He's fast asleep, " she said, softly; "and mind, I won't 'ave himdisturbed. It's the first real sleep he's 'ad for nearly a week. Ifyou promise not to wake 'im you may just have a peep. "

"We won't disturb him, " said the doctor, and, followed by his companion, noiselessly ascended the stairs and peeped into the room. Mr. Flynn wasfast asleep, and not a muscle moved as the two men approached the bed ontip-toe and stood looking at him. The doctor turned after a minute andled the way out of the room. 

"We'll call again, " he said, softly. 

"Yes, sir, " said Mrs. Scutts. "When?"

The doctor and his companion exchanged glances. "I'm very busy just atpresent, " he said, slowly. "We'll look in some time and take our chanceof catching him awake. "

Mrs. Scutts bowed them out, and in some perplexity returned to Mr. Flynn. "I don't like the look of 'em, " she said, shaking her head. "You'd better stay in bed till Bill comes 'ome in case they come back. "

"Right-o, " said the obliging Mr. Flynn. "Just step in and tell mylandlady I'm 'aving a chat with Bill. "

He lit his pipe and sat up in bed smoking until a knock at the frontdoor at half-past eleven sent him off to sleep again. Mrs. Scutts, whowas sitting downstairs, opened it and admitted her husband. 

"All serene?" he inquired. "What are you looking like that for?What's up?"

He sat quivering with alarm and rage as she told him, and then, mountingthe stairs with a heavy tread, stood gazing in helpless fury at theslumbering form of Mr. James Flynn. 

"Get out o' my bed, " he said at last, in a choking voice. 

"What, Bill!" said Mr. Flynn, opening his eyes. 

"Get out o' my bed, " repeated the other. "You've made a nice mess of itbetween you. It's a fine thing if a man can't go out for 'arf a pintwithout coming home and finding all the riffraff of the neighbourhood in'is bed. "

"'Ow's the pore back, Bill?" inquired Mr. Flynn, with tenderness. 

Mr. Scutts gurgled at him. "Outside!" he said as soon as he could gethis breath. 

"Bill, " said the voice of Mrs. Scutts, outside the door. 

"Halloa, " growled her husband. 

"He mustn't go, " said Mrs. Scutts. "Those gentlemen are coming again, and they think he is you. "

"WHAT!" roared the infuriated Mr. Scutts. 

"Don't you see? It's me what's got the pore back now, Bill, " said Mr. Flynn. "You can't pass yourself off as me, Bill; you ain't good-lookingenough. "

Mr. Scutts, past speech, raised his clenched fists to the ceiling. 

"He'll 'ave to stay in your bed, " continued the voice of Mrs. Scutts. "He's got a good 'art, and I know he'll do it; won't you, Jim?"

Mr. Flynn pondered. "Tell my landlady in the morning that I've tookyour back room, " he said. "What a fortunit thing it is I'm out o' work. What are you walking up and down like that for, Bill? Back coming onagin?"

"Then o' course, " pursued the voice of Mrs. Scutts, in meditativeaccents, "there's the club doctor and the other gentleman that knowsBill. They might come at any moment. There's got to be two Bills inbed, so that if one party comes one Bill can nip into the back room, andif the other Bill--party, I mean--comes, the other Bill--you know what Imean!"

Mr. Scutts swore himself faint. 

"That's 'ow it is, mate, " said Mr. Flynn. "It's no good standing theresaying your little piece of poetry to yourself. Take off your clo'esand get to bed like a little man. Now! now! Naughty! Naughty!"

"P'r'aps I oughtn't to 'ave let 'em up, Bill, " said his wife; "but I wasafraid they'd smell a rat if I didn't. Besides, I was took bysurprise. "

"You get off to bed, " said Mr. Scutts. "Get off to bed while you'resafe. "

"And get a good night's rest, " added the thoughtful Mr. Flynn. "IfBill's back is took bad in the night I'll look after it. "

Mr. Scutts turned a threatening face on him. "For two pins--" he began. 

"For two pins I'll go back 'ome and stay there, " said Mr. Flynn. 

He put one muscular leg out of bed, and then, at the earnest request ofMr. Scutts, put it back again. In a few simple, manly words the latterapologized, by putting all the blame on Mrs. Scutts, and, removing hisclothes, got into bed. 

Wrapped in bedclothes, they passed the following day listening forknocks at the door and playing cards. By evening both men were weary, and Mr. Scutts made a few pointed remarks concerning dodging doctors anddeceitful visitors to which Mr. Flynn listened in silent approval. 

"They mightn't come for a week, " he said, dismally. "It's all right foryou, but where do I come in? Halves?"

Mr. Scutts had a rush of blood to the head. 

"You leave it to me, mate, " he said, controlling himself by an effort. "If I get ten quid, say, you shall have 'arf. "

"And suppose you get more?" demanded the other. 

"We'll see, " said Mr. Scutts, vaguely. 

Mr. Flynn returned to the charge next day, but got no satisfaction. Mr. Scutts preferred to talk instead of the free board and lodging hisfriend was getting. On the subject of such pay for such work he wasalmost eloquent. 

"I'll bide my time, " said Mr. Flynn, darkly. "Treat me fair and I'lltreat you fair. "

His imprisonment came to an end on the fourth day. There was a knock atthe door, and the sound of men's voices, followed by the hurriedappearance of Mrs. Scutts. 

"It's Jim's lot, " she said, in a hurried whisper. "I've just come up toget the room ready. "

Mr. Scutts took his friend by the hand, and after warmly urging him notto forget the expert instructions he had received concerning his back, slipped into the back room, and, a prey to forebodings, awaited theresult. 

"Well, he looks better, " said the doctor, regarding Mr. Flynn. 

"Much better, " said his companion. 

Mrs. Scutts shook her head. "His pore back don't seem no better, sir, "she said in a low voice. "Can't you do something for it?"

"Let me have a look at it, " said the doctor. "Undo your shirt. "

Mr. Flynn, with slow fingers, fumbled with the button at his neck andlooked hard at Mrs. Scutts. 

"She can't bear to see me suffer, " he said, in a feeble voice, as sheleft the room. 

He bore the examination with the fortitude of an early Christian martyr. In response to inquiries he said he felt as though the mainspring of hisback had gone. 

"How long since you walked?" inquired the doctor. 

"Not since the accident, " said Mr. Flynn, firmly. 

"Try now, " said the doctor. 

Mr. Flynn smiled at him reproachfully. 

"You can't walk because you think you can't, " said the doctor; "that isall. You'll have to be encouraged the same way that a child is. Ishould like to cure you, and I think I can. "

He took a small canvas bag from the other man and opened it. "Fortypounds, " he said. "Would you like to count it?"

Mr. Flynn's eyes shone. 

"It is all yours, " said the doctor, "if you can walk across the room andtake it from that gentleman's hand. "

"Honour bright?" asked Mr. Flynn, in tremulous tones, as the other manheld up the bag and gave him an encouraging smile. 

"Honour bright, " said the doctor. 

With a spring that nearly broke the bed, Mr. Flynn quitted it andsnatched the bag, and at the same moment Mrs. Scutts, impelled by amaddened arm, burst into the room. 

"Your back!" she moaned. "It'll kill you Get back to bed. "

"I'm cured, lovey, " said Mr. Flynn, simply. 

"His back is as strong as ever, " said the doctor, giving it a thump. 

Mr. Flynn, who had taken his clothes from a chair and was hastilydressing himself, assented. 

"But if you'll wait 'arf a tick I'll walk as far as the corner withyou, " he said, quickly. "I'd like to make sure it's all right. "

He paused at the foot of the stairs and, glancing up at the palid andmurderous face of Mr. Scutts, which protruded from the back bedroom, smiled at him rapturously. Then, with a lordly air, he tossed him fivepieces of gold. 

KEEPING WATCH

"Human natur'!" said the night-watchman, gazing fixedly at a prettygirl in a passing waterman's skiff. "Human natur'!"

He sighed, and, striking a match, applied it to his pipe and sat smokingthoughtfully. 

"The young fellow is pretending that his arm is at the back of her byaccident, " he continued; "and she's pretending not to know that it'sthere. When he's allowed to put it round 'er waist whenever he wishes, he won't want to do it. She's artful enough to know that, and that'swhy they are all so stand-offish until the thing is settled. She'llmove forward 'arf an inch presently, and 'arf a minute arterwards she'lllean back agin without thinking. She's a nice-looking gal, and what shecan see in a tailor's dummy like that, I can't think. "

He leaned back on his box and, folding his arms, emitted a cloud ofsmoke. 

"Human natur's a funny thing. I've seen a lot of it in my time, and ifI was to 'ave my life all over agin I expect I should be just as sillyas them two in the skiff. I've known the time when I would spend moneyas free over a gal as I would over myself. I on'y wish I'd got all themoney now that I've spent on peppermint lozenges. 

"That gal in the boat reminds me o' one I used to know a few years ago. Just the same innercent baby look--a look as if butter wouldn't melt in'er mouth--and a artful disposition that made me sorry for 'er sects. 

"She used to come up to this wharf once a week in a schooner called theBelle. Her father, Cap'n Butt, was a widow-man, and 'e used to bringher with 'im, partly for company and partly because 'e could keep 'iseye on her. Nasty eye it, was, too, when he 'appened to be out o'temper. 

"I'd often took a bit o' notice o' the gal; just giving 'er a kind smilenow and then as she sat on deck, and sometimes--when 'er father wasn'tlooking--she'd smile back. Once, when 'e was down below, she laughedright out. She was afraid of 'im, and by and by I noticed that shedaren't even get off the ship and walk up and down the wharf withoutasking 'im. When she went out 'e was with 'er, and, from one or twonasty little snacks I 'appened to overhear when the skipper thought Iwas too far away, I began to see that something was up. 

"It all came out one evening, and it only came out because the skipperwanted my help. I was standing leaning on my broom to get my breathback arter a bit o' sweeping, when he came up to me, and I knew at once, by the nice way 'e spoke, that he wanted me to do something for 'im. 

"'Come and 'ave a pint, Bill, ' he ses. 

"I put my broom agin the wall, and we walked round to the Bull's Headlike a couple o' brothers. We 'ad two pints apiece, and then he put his'and on my shoulder and talked as man to man. 

"'I'm in a little bit o' difficulty about that gal o' mine, ' he ses, passing me his baccy-box. 'Six months ago she dropped a letter out of'er pocket, and I'm blest if it wasn't from a young man. A young man!'

"'You sur-prise me, ' I ses, meaning to be sarcastic. 

"'I surprised her, ' he ses, looking very fierce. 'I went to 'er box andI found a pile of 'em-a pile of 'em-tied up with a piece o' pink ribbon. And a photygraph of my lord. And of all the narrer-chested, weak-eyed, slack-baked, spindly-legged sons of a gun you ever saw in your life, heis the worst. If I on'y get my 'ands on him I'll choke 'im with his ownfeet. '

"He washed 'is mouth out with a drop o' beer and stood scowling at thefloor. 

"'Arter I've choked 'im I'll twist his neck, ' he ses. 'If he 'ad on'yput his address on 'is letters, I'd go round and do it now. And mydaughter, my only daughter, won't tell me where he lives. '

"'She ought to know better, ' I ses. 

"He took hold o' my 'and and shook it. 'You've got more sense than one'ud think to look at you, Bill, ' he ses, not thinking wot he was saying. 'You see wot a mess I'm in. '

"'Yes, ' I ses. 

"'I'm a nurse, that's wot I am, ' he ses, very savage. 'Just anursemaid. I can't move 'and or foot without that gal. 'Ow'd you likeit, yourself, Bill?'

"'It must be very orkard for you, ' I ses. 'Very orkard indeed. '

"'Orkard!' he ses; 'it's no name for it, Bill. I might as well be aSunday-school teacher, and ha' done with it. I never 'ad such a dulltime in all my life. Never. And the worst of it is, it's spiling mytemper. And all because o' that narrer-eyed, red-chested--you know wotI mean!'

"He took another mouthful o' beer, and then he took 'old of my arm. 'Bill, ' he ses, very earnest, 'I want you to do me a favour. '

"'Go ahead, ' I ses. 

"'I've got to meet a pal at Charing Cross at ha'-past seven, ' he ses;'and we're going to make a night of it. I've left Winnie in charge o'the cook, and I've told 'im plain that, if she ain't there when I comeback, I'll skin 'im alive. Now, I want you to watch 'er, too. Keep thegate locked, and don't let anybody in you don't know. Especially thatmonkey-faced imitation of a man. Here 'e is. That's his likeness. '

"He pulled a photygraph out of 'is coatpocket and 'anded it to me. 

"'That's 'im, ' he ses. 'Fancy a gal getting love-letters from a thinglike that! And she was on'y twenty last birthday. Keep your eye on'er, Bill, and don't let 'er out of your sight. You're worth two o' thecook. '

"He finished 'is beer, and, cuddling my arm, stepped back to the wharf. Miss Butt was sitting on the cabin skylight reading a book, and old Joe, the cook, was standing near 'er pretending to swab the decks with a mop. 

"'I've got to go out for a little while--on business, ' ses the skipper. 'I don't s'pose I shall be long, and, while I'm away, Bill and the cookwill look arter you. '

"Miss Butt wrinkled up 'er shoulders. 

"'The gate'll be locked, and you're not to leave the wharf. D'ye 'ear?'

"The gal wriggled 'er shoulders agin and went on reading, but she gavethe cook a look out of 'er innercent baby eyes that nearly made 'im dropthe mop. 

"'Them's my orders, ' ses the skipper, swelling his chest and lookinground, 'to everybody. You know wot'll 'appen to you, Joe, if thingsain't right when I come back. Come along, Bill, and lock the gate arterme. An' mind, for your own sake, don't let anything 'appen to that galwhile I'm away. '

"'Wot time'll you be back?' I ses, as 'e stepped through the wicket. 

"'Not afore twelve, and p'r'aps a good bit later, ' he ses, smiling allover with 'appiness. 'But young slab-chest don't know I'm out, andWinnie thinks I'm just going out for 'arf an hour, so it'll be allright. So long. '

"I watched 'im up the road, and I must say I began to wish I 'adn'ttaken the job on. Arter all, I 'ad on'y had two pints and a bit o'flattery, and I knew wot 'ud 'appen if anything went wrong. Built likea bull he was, and fond o' using his strength. I locked the wicketcareful, and, putting the key in my pocket, began to walk up and downthe wharf. 

"For about ten minutes the gal went on reading and didn't look up once. Then, as I passed, she gave me a nice smile and shook 'er little fist atthe cook, wot 'ad got 'is back towards 'er. I smiled back, o' course, and by and by she put her book down and climbed on to the side o' theship and held out her 'and for me to 'elp her ashore. 

"'I'm so tired of the ship, ' she ses, in a soft voice; 'it's like aprison. Don't you get, tired of the wharf?'

"'Sometimes, ' I ses; 'but it's my dooty. '

"'Yes, ' she ses. 'Yes, of course. But you're a big, strong man, andyou can put up with things better. '

"She gave a little sigh, and we walked up and down for a time withoutsaying anything. 

"'And it's all father's foolishness, ' she ses, at last; 'that's wotmakes it so tiresome. I can't help a pack of silly young men writing tome, can I?'

"'No, I s'pose not, ' I ses. 

"'Thank you, ' she ses, putting 'er little 'and on my arm. 'I knew thatyou were sensible. I've often watched you when I've been sitting aloneon the schooner, longing for somebody to speak to. And I'm a good judgeof character. I can read you like a book. '

"She turned and looked up at me. Beautiful blue eyes she'd got, withlong, curling lashes, and teeth like pearls. 

"'Father is so silly, ' she ses, shaking her 'ead and looking down; 'andit's so unreasonable, because, as a matter of fact, I don't like youngmen. Oh, I beg your pardon, I didn't mean that. I didn't mean to berude. '

"'Rude?' I ses, staring at her. 

"'Of course it was a rude thing for me to say, ' she ses, smiling;'because you are still a young man yourself. '

"I shook my 'ead. 'Youngish, ' I ses. 

"'Young!' she ses, stamping 'er little foot. 

"She gave me another look, and this time 'er blue eyes seemed large andsolemn. She walked along like one in a dream, and twice she trippedover the planks and would 'ave fallen if I hadn't caught 'er round thewaist. 

"'Thank you, ' she ses. 'I'm very clumsy. How strong your arm is!'

"We walked up and down agin, and every time we went near the edge of thejetty she 'eld on to my arm for fear of stumbling agin. And there wasthat silly cook standing about on the schooner on tip-toe and twistinghis silly old neck till I wonder it didn't twist off. 

"'Wot a beautiful evening it is!' she ses, at last, in a low voice. 'I'ope father isn't coming back early. Do you know wot time he is cominghome?'

"'About twelve, ' I ses; 'but don't tell 'im I told you so. '

"'O' course not, ' she ses, squeezing my arm. 'Poor father! I hope he isenjoying himself as much as I am. '

"We walked down to the jetty agin arter that, and sat side by sidelooking acrost the river. And she began to talk about Life, and wot astrange thing it was; and 'ow the river would go on flowing down to thesea thousands and thousands o' years arter we was both dead andforgotten. If it hadn't ha' been for her little 'ead leaning agin myshoulder I should have 'ad the creeps. 

"'Let's go down into the cabin, ' she ses, at last, with a little shiver;'it makes me melancholy sitting here and thinking of the "might-have-beens. "'

"I got up first and 'elped her up, and, arter both staring hard at thecook, wot didn't seem to know 'is place, we went down into the cabin. It was a comfortable little place, and arter she 'ad poured me out aglass of 'er father's whisky, and filled my pipe for me, I wouldn't ha'changed places with a king. Even when the pipe wouldn't draw I didn'tmind. 

"'May I write a letter?' she ses, at last. 

"'Sartainly, ' I ses. 

"She got out her pen and ink and paper, and wrote. 'I sha'n't be long, 'she ses, looking up and nibbling 'er pen. 'It's a letter to mydressmaker; she promised my dress by six o'clock this afternoon, and Iam just writing to tell her that if I don't have it by ten in themorning she can keep it. '

"'Quite right, ' I ses; 'it's the on'y way to get things done. '

"'It's my way, ' she ses, sticking the letter in an envelope and lickingit down. 'Nice name, isn't it?'

"She passed it over to me, and I read the name and address: 'Miss MinnieMiller, 17, John Street, Mile End Road. '

"'That'll wake her up, ' She ses, smiling. 'Will you ask Joe to take itfor me?'

"'He--he's on guard, ' I ses, smiling back at 'er and shaking my 'ead. 

"'I know, ' she ses, in a low voice. 'But I don't want any guard--onlyyou. I don't like guards that peep down skylights. '

"I looked up just in time to see Joe's 'ead disappear. Then I nippedup, and arter I 'ad told 'im part of wot I thought about 'im I gave 'imthe letter and told 'im to sheer off. 

"'The skipper told me to stay 'ere, ' he ses, looking obstinate. 

"'You do as you're told, ' I ses. 'I'm in charge, and I take fullresponsibility. I shall lock the gate arter you. Wot are you worryingabout?'

"'And here's a shilling, Joe, for a bus fare, ' ses the gal, smiling. 'You can keep the change. '

"Joe took off 'is cap and scratched 'is silly bald 'ead. 

"'Come on, ' I ses; 'it's a letter to a dressmaker. A letter that mustgo to-night. '

"'Else it's no use, ' ses the gal. 'You don't know 'ow important it is. '

"'All right, ' ses Joe. ''Ave it your own way. So long as you don'ttell the skipper I don't mind. If anything 'appens you'll catch it too, Bill. '

"He climbed ashore, and I follered 'im to the gate and unlocked it. Hewas screwing up 'is eye ready for a wink, but I give 'im such a lookthat he thought better of it, and, arter rubbing his eye with 'is fingeras though he 'ad got a bit o' dust in it, he went off. 

"I locked the gate and went back to the cabin, and for some time we sattalking about fathers and the foolish ideas they got into their 'eads, and things o' that sort. So far as I remember, I 'ad two more goes o'whisky and one o' the skipper's cigars, and I was just thinking wot abeautiful thing it was to be alive and 'ealthy and in good spirits, talking to a nice gal that understood wot you said a'most afore you saidit, when I 'eard three blows on a whistle. 

"'Wot's that?' I ses, starting up. 'Police whistle?'

"'I don't think so, ' ses Miss Butt, putting her 'and on my shoulder. 'Sit down and stay where you are. I don't want you to get hurt, if itis. Let somebody I don't like go. '

"I sat down agin and listened, but there was no more whistling. 

"'Boy in the street, I expect, ' ses the gal, going into the state-room. 'Oh, I've got something to show you. Wait a minute. '

"I 'eard her moving about, and then she comes back into the cabin. 

"'I can't find the key of my box, ' she ses, 'and it's in there. Iwonder whether you've got a key that would open it. It's a padlock. '

"I put my 'and in my pocket and pulled out my keys. 'Shall I come andtry?' I ses. 

"'No, thank you, ' she ses, taking the keys. 'This looks about the size. What key is it?'

"'It's the key of the gate, ' I ses, 'but I don't suppose it'll fit. '

"She went back into the state-room agin, and I 'eard her fumbling at alock. Then she came back into the cabin, breathing rather hard, andstood thinking. 

"'I've just remembered, ' she ses, pinching her chin. 'Yes!'

"She stepped to the door and went up the companion-ladder, and the nextmoment I 'eard a sliding noise and a key turn in a lock. I jumped tothe foot of the ladder and, 'ardly able to believe my senses, saw thatthe hatch was closed. When I found that it was locked too, you mightha' knocked me down with a feather. 

"I went down to the cabin agin, and, standing on the locker, pushed theskylight up with my 'ead and tried to lookout. I couldn't see the gate, but I 'eard voices and footsteps, and a little while arterwards I seethat gal coming along the wharf arm in arm with the young man she 'adtold me she didn't like, and dancing for joy. They climbed on to theschooner, and then they both stooped down with their hands on theirknees and looked at me. 

"'Wot is it?' ses the young man, grinning. 

"'It's a watchman, ' ses the gal. 'It's here to take charge of thewharf, you know, and see that nobody comes on. '

"'We ought to ha' brought some buns for it, ' ses the young man; 'look atit opening its mouth. '

"They both laughed fit to kill themselves, but I didn't move a muscle. 

"'You open the companion, ' I ses, 'or it'll be the worse for you. D'yehear? Open it!'

"'Oh, Alfred, ' ses the gal, 'he's losing 'is temper. Wotever shall wedo?'

"'I don't want no more nonsense, ' I ses, trying to fix 'er with my eye. 'If you don't let me out it'll be the worse for you. '

"'Don't you talk to my young lady like that, ' ses the young man. 

"'Your young lady?' I ses. 'H'mm! You should ha' seen 'er 'arf an hourago. '

"The gal looked at me steady for a moment. 

"'He put 'is nasty fat arm round my waist, Alfred, ' she ses. 

"'Wot!' ses the young man, squeaking. 'WOT!'

"He snatched up the mop wot that nasty, untidy cook 'ad left leaningagin the side, and afore I 'ad any idea of wot 'e was up to he shovedthe beastly thing straight in my face. 

"'Next time, ' he ses, 'I'll tear you limb from limb!'

"I couldn't speak for a time, and when I could 'e stopped me with themop agin. It was like a chained lion being tormented by a monkey. Istepped down on to the cabin floor, and then I told 'em both wot Ithought of 'em. 

"'Come along, Alfred, ' ses the gal, 'else the cook'll be back before westart. '

"'He's all right, ' ses the young man. 'Minnie's looking arter him. When I left he'd got 'arf a bottle of whisky in front of 'im. '

"'Still, we may as well go, ' ses Miss Butt. 'It seems a shame to keepthe cab waiting. '

"'All right, ' he ses. 'I just want to give this old chump one more lickwith the mop and then we'll go. '

"He peeped down the skylight and waited, but I kept quite quiet, with myback towards 'im. 

"'Come along, ' ses Miss Butt. 

"'I'm coming, ' he ses. 'Hi! You down there! When the cap'n comes backtell 'im that I'm taking Miss Butt to an aunt o' mine in the country. And tell'im that in a week or two he'll 'ave the largest and nicestpiece of wedding-cake he 'as ever 'ad in his life. So long!'

"'Good-bye, watchman, ' ses the gal. 

"They moved off without another word--from them, I mean. I heard thewicket slam and then I 'eard a cab drive off over the stones. Icouldn't believe it at first. I couldn't believe a gal with suchbeautiful blue eyes could be so hard-'earted, and for a long time Istood listening and hoping to 'ear the cab come back. Then I stepped upto the companion and tried to shift it with my shoulders. 

"I went back to the cabin at last, and arter lighting the lamp I 'adanother sup o' the skipper's whisky to clear my 'ead, and sat down totry and think wot tale I was to tell 'im. I sat for pretty near threehours without thinking of one, and then I 'eard the crew come on to thewharf. 

"They was a bit startled when they saw my 'ead at the skylight, and thenthey all started at the same time asking me wot I was doing. I told 'emto let me out fust and then I'd tell 'em, and one of 'em 'ad juststepped round to the companion when the skipper come on to the wharf andstepped aboard. He stooped down and peeped at me through the skylightas though he couldn't believe 'is eyesight, and then, arter sending thehands for'ard and telling 'em to stay there, wotever 'appened, heunlocked the companion and came down. "

THE UNDERSTUDY

The Understudy

"Dogs on board ship is a nuisance, " said the night-watchman, gazingfiercely at the vociferous mongrel that had chased him from the deck ofthe Henry William; "the skipper asks me to keep an eye on the ship, andthen leaves a thing like that down in the cabin. "

He leaned against a pile of empty casks to recover his breath, shook hisfist at the dog, and said, slowly--

Some people can't make too much of 'em. They talk about a dog's honesteyes and his faithful 'art. I 'ad a dog once, and I never saw his eyeslook so honest as they did one day when 'e was sitting on a pound o'beefsteak we was 'unting high and low for. 

I've known dogs to cause a lot of trouble in my time. A man as used tolive in my street told me he 'ad been in jail three times because dogsfollered him 'ome and wouldn't go away when he told 'em to. He saidthat some men would ha' kicked 'em out into the street, but he thoughttheir little lives was far too valuable to risk in that way. 

Some people used to wink when 'e talked like that, but I didn't: Iremembered a dog that took a fancy to old Sam Small and Ginger Dick andPeter Russet once in just the same way. 

It was one night in a little public-'ouse down Commercial Road way. They 'ad on'y been ashore a week, and, 'aving been turned out of amusic-'all the night afore because a man Ginger Dick had punched in thejaw wouldn't behave 'imself, they said they'd spend the rest o' theirmoney on beer instead. There was just the three of 'em sitting bythemselves in a cosy little bar, when the door was pushed open and a bigblack dog came in. 

He came straight up to Sam and licked his 'and. Sam was eating aarrowroot biscuit with a bit o' cheese on it at the time. He wasn't wotyou'd call a partickler sort o' man, but, seeing as 'ow the dog was socareless that 'e licked the biscuit a'most as much as he did his 'and, he gave it to 'im. The dog took it in one gulp, and then he jumped upon Sam's lap and wagged his tail in 'is face for joy and thankfulness. 

"He's took a fancy to you, Sam, " ses Ginger. 

Sam pushed the dog off on to the floor and wiped his face. 

"He's a good dog, by the look of 'im, " ses Peter Russet, who was countrybred. 

He bought a sausage-roll, and him and the dog ate it between 'em. ThenGinger Dick bought one and gave it to 'im, and by the time it wasfinished the dog didn't seem to know which one of 'em he loved the most. 

"Wonder who he belongs to?" ses Ginger. "Is there any name on thecollar, Peter?"

Peter shook his 'ead. "It's a good collar, though, " he ses. "I wonderwhether he's been and lost 'imself?"

Old Sam, wot was always on the look-out for money, put his beer down andwiped 'is mouth. "There might be a reward out for 'im, " he ses. "Ithink I'll take care of 'im for a day or two, in case. "

"We'll all take care of 'im, " ses Ginger; "and if there's a reward we'llgo shares. Mind that!"

"I found 'im, " ses Sam, very disagreeable. "He came up to me as if he'dknown me all 'is life. "

"No, " ses Ginger. "Don't you flatter yourself. He came up to youbecause he didn't know you, Sam. "

"If he 'ad, he'd ha' bit your 'and, " ses Peter Russet. 

"Instead o' washing it, " ses Ginger. 

"Go on!" ses Sam, 'olding his breath with passion. "Go on!"

Peter opened 'is mouth, but just then another man came into the bar, and, arter ordering 'is drink, turned round and patted the dog's 'ead. 

"That's a good dog; 'ow old is he?" he ses to Ginger. 

"Two years last April, " ses Ginger, without moving a eyelid. 

"Fifth of April, " ses old Sam, very quick and fierce. 

"At two o'clock in the morning, " ses Peter. 

The man took up 'is beer and looked at 'em; then 'e took a drink andlooked at 'em again. Arter which he 'ad another look at the dog. 

"I could see 'e was very valuable, " he ses. "I see that the moment Iset eyes on 'im. Mind you don't get 'im stole. "

He finished up 'is beer and went out; and he 'ad 'ardly gone aforeGinger took a piece o' thick string out of 'is pocket and fastened it tothe dog's collar. 

"Make yourself at 'ome, Ginger, " ses Sam, very nasty. 

"I'm going to, " ses Ginger. "That chap knows something about dogs, and, if we can't get a reward for 'im, p'r'aps we can sell 'im. "

They 'ad another arf-pint each, and then, Ginger taking 'old of thestring, they went out into the street. 

"Nine o'clock, " ses Peter. "It's no good going 'ome yet, Ginger. "

"We can 'ave a glass or two on the way, " ses Ginger; "but I sha'n't feelcomfortable in my mind till we've got the dog safe 'ome. P'r'aps thepeople wot 'ave lost it are looking for it now. "

They 'ad another drink farther on, and a man in the bar took such afancy to the dog that 'e offered Ginger five shillings for it and drinksround. 

"That shows 'ow valuable it is, " ses Peter Russet when they got outside. "Hold that string tight, Ginger. Wot's the matter?"

"He won't come, " ses Ginger, tugging at the string. "Come on, old chap!Good dog! Come on!"

He stood there pulling at the dog, wot was sitting down and beingdragged along on its stummick. He didn't know its name, but 'e calledit a few things that seemed to ease 'is mind, and then he 'anded overthe string to Sam, wot 'ad been asking for it, and told 'im to see wothe could do. 

"We shall 'ave a crowd round us in a minute, " ses Peter. "Mind youdon't bust a blood-vessel, Sam. "

"And be locked up for stealing it, p'r'aps, " ses Ginger. "Better let itgo, Sam. "

"Wot, arter refusing five bob for it?" ses Sam. "Talk sense, Ginger, and give it a shove be'ind. "

Ginger gave it a shove, but it was no good. There was three or fourpeople coming along the road, and Sam made up 'is mind in an instant, and 'eld up his 'and to a cab that was passing. 

It took the three of 'em to get the dog into the cab, and as soon as itwas in the cabman told 'em to take it out agin. They argufied with 'imtill their tongues ached, and at last, arter paying 'im four shillingsand sixpence afore they started, he climbed up on the box and drove off. 

The door was open when they got to their lodgings, but they 'ad to becareful because o' the landlady. It took the three of 'em to pull andpush that dog upstairs, and Ginger took a dislike to dogs that 'e neverreally got over. They got 'im in the bedroom at last, and, arter they'ad given 'im a drink o' water out o' the wash-hand basin, Ginger andPeter started to find fault with Sam Small. 

"I know wot I'm about, " ses Sam; "but, o' course, if you don't want yourshare, say so. Wot?"

"Talk sense!" ses Ginger. "We paid our share o' the cab, didn't we?And more fools us. "

"There won't be no share, " ses Peter Russet; "but if there is, we'regoing to'ave it. "

They undressed themselves and got into bed, and Ginger 'adn't been inhis five minutes afore the dog started to get in with 'im. When Gingerpushed 'im off 'e seemed to think he was having a game with 'im, and, arter pretending to bite 'im in play, he took the end of the counterpanein 'is mouth and tried to drag it off. 

"Why don't you get to sleep, Ginger?" ses Sam, who was just droppingoff. "'Ave a game with 'im in the morning. "

Ginger gave the dog a punch in the chest, and, arter saying a few o' thethings he'd like to do to Sam Small, he cuddled down in 'is bed and theyall went off to sleep. All but the dog, that is. He seemed uneasy in'is mind, and if 'e woke 'em up once by standing on his 'ind-legs andputting his fore-paws on their chest to see if they was still alive, hedid arf-a-dozen times. 

He dropped off to sleep at last, scratching 'imself, but about threeo'clock in the morning Ginger woke up with a 'orrible start and sat upin bed shivering. Sam and Peter woke up, too, and, raising themselvesin bed, looked at the dog, wot was sitting on its tail, with its 'eadback, moaning fit to break its 'art. 

"Wot's the matter?" ses old Sam, in a shaky voice. "Stop it! Stop it, d'ye hear!"

"P'r'aps it's dying, " ses Ginger, as the dog let off a 'owl like asteamer coming up the river. "Stop it, you brute!"

"He'll wake the 'ouse up in a minute, " ses Peter. "Take 'im downstairsand kick 'im into the street, Sam. "

"Take 'im yourself, " ses Sam. "Hsh! Somebody's coming upstairs. Poorold doggie. Come along, then. Come along. "

The dog left off his 'owling, and went over and licked 'im just as thelandlady and one or two more came to the door and called out to know wotthey meant by it. 

"It's all right, missis, " ses Sam. "It's on'y pore Ginger. You keepquiet, " he ses in a whisper, turning to Ginger. 

"Wot's he making that row about?" ses the landlady. "He made my bloodrun cold. "

"He's got a touch o' toothache, " ses Sam. "Never mind, Ginger, " 'e sesin a hurry, as the dog let off another 'owl; "try and bear it. "

"He's a coward, that's wot 'e is, " ses the landlady, very fierce. "Why, a child o' five wouldn't make such a fuss. "

"Sounds more like a dog than a 'uman being, " ses another voice. "Youcome outside, Ginger, and I'll give you something to cry for. "

They waited a minute or two, and then, everything being quiet, they wentback to bed, while old Sam talked to Ginger about wot 'e called 'is"presence o' mind, " and Ginger talked to 'im about wot he'd do to 'im if'e wasn't a fat old man with one foot in the grave. 

They was all in a better temper when they woke up in the morning, andwhile Sam was washing they talked about wot they was to do with the dog. 

"We can't lead 'im about all day, " ses Ginger; "and if we let 'im offthe string he'll go off 'ome. "

"He don't know where his 'ome is, " ses Sam, very severe; "but he mightrun away, and then the pore thing might be starved or else ill-treated. I 'ave 'eard o' boys tying tin cans to their tails. "

"I've done it myself, " ses Ginger, nodding. "Consequently it's ourdooty to look arter 'im, " ses Sam. 

"I'll go down to the front door, " ses Peter, "and when I whistle, bringhim down. "

Ginger stuck his 'ead out o' the window, and by and by, when Peterwhistled, him and Sam took the dog downstairs and out into the street. 

"So far so good, " ses Sam; "now, wot about brekfuss?"

They 'ad their brekfuss in their usual coffeeshop, and the dog took bitsfrom all of them. Unfortunately, 'e wasn't used to haddick bones, andarter two of the customers 'ad gorn out and two more 'ad complained tothe landlord, they 'ad to leave their brekfusses and take 'im outsidefor a breath o' fresh air. 

"Now, wot are we going to do?" ses Ginger. "I'm beginning to be sickof the sight of 'im. 'Ave we got to lead 'im about all day on a bit o'string?"

"Let's take 'im round the corner and lose 'im, " ses Peter Russet. 

"You give me 'old o' that string, " ses Sam. "If you don't want shares, that's all right. If I'm going to look arter 'im I'll 'ave it all. "

That made Ginger and Peter look at each other. Direckly Sam began totalk about money they began to think they might be losing something. 

"And wot about 'aving 'im in our bedroom and keeping us awake allnight?" ses Peter. 

"And putting it on to me with the toothache, " ses Ginger. "No; you canlook arter 'im, Sam, while me and Peter goes off and enjoys ourselves;and if you get anything we go shares, mind. "

"All right, " ses Sam, turning away with the dog. 

"And suppose Sam gets a reward or sells it, and then tells us that itran away and 'e lost it?" ses Peter. 

"O' course; I never thought o' that, " ses Ginger. "You've got your 'eadon straight, Peter. "

"I see 'im smile, that's why, " ses Peter Russet. 

"You're a liar, " ses Sam. 

"We'll stick together, " ses Ginger. "Leastways, one of us'll keep withyou, Sam. "

They settled it that way at last, and while Ginger went for a walk downround about where they 'ad found the dog, Sam Small and Peter waited forhim in a little public-'ouse down Limehouse way. Their idea was thatthere would be bills up, and when Ginger came back and said therewasn't, they 'ad a lot to say about people wot wasn't fit to 'ave dogsbecause they didn't love 'em. 

They 'ad a miserable day. When the dog got sick o' sitting in a pub 'emade such a noise they 'ad to take 'im out; and when 'e got tired o'walking about he sat down on the pavement and they 'ad to drag 'im alongto the nearest pub agin. At five o'clock in the arternoon Ginger Dickwas talking about two-penn'orth o' rat-poison. 

"Wot are we to do with 'im till twelve o'clock to-night?" ses Peter. 

"And s'pose we can't smuggle 'im into the 'ouse agin?" ses Ginger. "Orsuppose he makes that noise agin in the night?"

They 'ad a pint each to 'elp them to think wot was to be done. And, arter a lot o' talking and quarrelling, they did wot a lot of otherpeople 'ave done when they got into trouble: they came to me. 

I 'ad on'y been on dooty about arf an hour when the three of 'em turnedup at the wharf with the dog, and, arter saying 'ow well I looked andthat I seemed to get younger every time they saw me, they asked me totake charge of the dog for 'em. 

"It'll be company for you, " ses old Sam. "It must be very lonely 'ereof a night. I've often thought of it. "

"And of a day-time you could take it 'ome and tie it up in your back-yard, " ses Ginger. 

I wouldn't 'ave anything to do with it at fust, but at last I gave way. They offered me fourpence a day for its keep, and, as I didn't want torun any risk, I made 'em give me a couple o' bob to go on with. 

They went off as though they'd left a load o' care be'ind 'em, and artertying the dog up to a crane I went on with my work. They 'adn't told mewot the game was, but, from one or two things they'd let drop, I'd got apretty good idea. 

The dog 'owled a bit at fust, but he quieted down arter a bit. He was anice-looking animal, but one dog is much the same as another to me, andif I 'ad one ten years I don't suppose I could pick it out from two orthree others. 

I took it off 'ome with me when I left at six o'clock next morning, andtied it up in my yard. My missis 'ad words about it, o' course--that'swot people get married for--but when she found it woke me up three timesshe quieted down and said wot a nice coat it 'ad got. 

The three of 'em came round next evening to see it, and they was soafraid of its being lost that when they stood me a pint at the Bull'sHead we 'ad to take it with us. Ginger was going to buy a sausage-rollfor it, but, arter Sam 'ad pointed out that they was paying me fourpencea day for its keep, he didn't. And Sam 'ad the cheek to tell me that itliked a nice bit o' fried steak as well as anything. 

A lot o' people admired that dog. I remember, on the fourth night Ithink it was, the barge Dauntless came alongside, and arter she was madefast the skipper came ashore and took a little notice of it. 

"Where did you get 'im?" he ses. 

I told 'im 'ow it was, and he stood there for some time patting the dogon the 'ead and whistling under 'is breath. 

"It's much the same size as my dog, " he ses; "that's a black retriever, too. "

I ses "Oh!"

"I'm afraid I shall 'ave to get rid of it, " he ses. "It's on the bargenow. My missis won't 'ave it in the 'ouse any more cos it bit the baby. And o' course it was no good p'inting out to 'er that it was its firstbite. Even the law allows one bite, but it's no good talking about thelaw to wimmen. "

"Except when it's on their side, " I ses. 

He patted the dog's 'ead agin and whistled, and a big black dog came upout of the cabin and sprang ashore. It went up and put its nose toSam's dog, and they both growled like thunderstorms. 

"Might be brothers, " ses the skipper, "on'y your dog's got a better'eead and a better coat. It's a good dog. "

"They're all alike to me, " I ses. "I couldn't tell 'em apart, not ifyou paid me. "

The skipper stood there a moment, and then he ses: "I wish you'd let mesee 'ow my dog looks in your dog's collar, " he ses. 

"Whaffor?" I ses. 

"On'y fancy, " he ses. "Oh, Bill!"

"Yes, " I ses. 

"It ain't Christmas, " he ses, taking my arm and walking up and down abit, "but it will be soon, and then I mightn't see you. You've done meone or two good turns, and I should like to make you a Christmas-box ofthree 'arf-dollars. "

I let 'im give 'em to me, and then, just to please 'im, I let 'im trythe collar on 'is dog, while I swept up a bit. 

"It looked beautiful on 'im, " he ses, when I'd finished; "but I've putit back agin. Come on, Bruno. Good-night, Bill. "

He got 'is dog on the barge agin arter a bit o' trouble, and artermaking sure 'that my dog 'ad got its own collar on I went on with mywork. 

The dog didn't seem to be quite 'imself next day, and he was so fiercein the yard that my missis was afraid to go near 'im. I was going toask the skipper about it, as 'e seemed to know more about dogs than Idid, but when I got to the wharf the barge had sailed. 

It was just getting dark when there came a ring at the gate-bell, andafore I could answer it arf-a-dozen more, as fast as the bell could go. And when I opened the wicket Sam Small and Ginger and Peter Russet alltried to get in at once. 

"Where's the dog?" ses Sam. 

"Tied up, " I ses. "Wot's the matter? 'Ave you all gorn mad?"

They didn't answer me. They ran on to the jetty, and afore I could turnround a'most they 'ad got the dog loose and was dragging it towards me, smiling all over their faces. 

"Reward, " ses Ginger, as I caught 'old of 'im by the coat. "Five pounds--landlord of a pub--at Bow--come on, Sam!"

"Why don't you keep your mouth shut, Ginger?" ses Sam. 

"Five pounds!" I ses. "Five pounds! Hurrah!"

"Wot are you hurraying about?" ses Sam, very short. 

"Why, " I ses, "I s'pose----Here, arf a moment!"

"Can't stop, " ses Sam, going arter the others. 

I watched 'em up the road, and then I locked the gate and walked up anddown the wharf thinking wot a funny thing money is, and 'ow it alterspeople's natures. And arter all, I thought that three arf-dollarsearned honest was better than a reward for hiding another man's dog. 

I finished tidying up, and at nine o'clock I went into the office for aquiet smoke. I couldn't 'elp wondering 'ow them three 'ad got on, andjust as I was thinking about it there came the worst ringing at thegate-bell I 'ave ever 'eard in my life, and the noise of heavy bootskicking the gate. It was so violent I 'ardly liked to go at fust, thinking it might be bad news, but I opened it at last, and in bust SamSmall, with Ginger and Peter. 

For five minutes they all talked at once, with their nasty fists 'eldunder my nose. I couldn't make lead or tail of it at fust, and then Ifound as 'ow they 'ad got the dog back with them, and that the landlord'ad said 'e wasn't the one. 

"But 'e said as he thought the collar was his, " ses Sam. "'Ow do youaccount for that?"

"P'r'aps he made a mistake, " I ses; "or p'r'aps he thought you'd turnthe dog adrift and he'd get it back for nothing. You know wot landlordsare. Try 'im agin. "

"I'd pretty well swear he ain't the same dog, " ses Peter Russet, lookingin a puzzled way at Sam and Ginger. 

"You take 'im back to-morrow night, " I ses. "It's a nice walk to Bow. And then come back and beg my pardon. I want to 'ave a word with thispoliceman here. Goodnight. "

THE WEAKER VESSEL

Mr. Gribble sat in his small front parlour in a state of angryamazement. It was half-past six and there was no Mrs. Gribble; worsestill, there was no tea. It was a state of things that had onlyhappened once before. That was three weeks after marriage, and on thatoccasion Mr. Gribble had put his foot down with a bang that had echoeddown the corridors of thirty years. 

The fire in the little kitchen was out, and the untidy remains of Mrs. Gribble's midday meal still disgraced the table. More and more dazed, the indignant husband could only come to the conclusion that she hadgone out and been run over. Other things might possibly account for herbehaviour; that was the only one that would excuse it. 

His meditations were interrupted by the sound of a key in the frontdoor, and a second later a small, anxious figure entered the room and, leaning against the table, strove to get its breath. The process wasnot helped by the alarming distension of Mr. Gribble's figure. 

"I--I got home--quick as I could--Henry, " said Mrs. Gribble, panting. 

"Where is my tea?" demanded her husband. "What do you mean by it? Thefire's out and the kitchen is just as you left it. "

"I--I've been to a lawyer's, Henry, " said Mrs. Gribble, "and I had towait. "

"Lawyer's?" repeated her husband. 

"I got a letter this afternoon telling me to call. Poor Uncle George, that went to America, is gone. "

"That is no excuse for neglecting me, " said Mr. Gribble. "Of coursepeople die when they are old. Is that the one that got on and mademoney?"

His wife, apparently struggling to repress a little excitement, nodded. "He--he's left me two hundred pounds a year for life, Henry, " she said, dabbing at her pale blue eyes with a handkerchief. "They're going topay it monthly; sixteen pounds thirteen shillings and fourpence a month. That's how he left it. "

"Two hund--" began Mr. Gribble, forgetting himself. "Two hun----Go andget my tea! If you think you're going to give yourself airs becauseyour uncle's left you money, you won't do it in my house. "

He took a chair by the window, and, while his wife busied herself in thekitchen, sat gazing in blank delight at the little street. Two hundreda year! It was all he could do to resume his wonted expression as hiswife re-entered the room and began to lay the table. His manner, however, when she let a cup and saucer slip from her trembling fingersto smash on the floor left nothing to be desired. 

"It's nice to have money come to us in our old age, " said Mrs. Gribble, timidly, as they sat at tea. "It takes a load off my mind. "

"Old age!" said her husband, disagreeably. "What d'ye mean by old age?I'm fifty-two, and feel as young as ever I did. "

"You look as young as ever you did, " said the docile Mrs. Gribble. "Ican't see no change in you. At least, not to speak of. "

"Not so much talk, " said her husband. "When I want your opinion of mylooks I'll ask you for it. When do you start getting this money?"

"Tuesday week; first of May, " replied his wife. "The lawyers are goingto send it by registered letter. "

Mr. Gribble grunted. 

"I shall be sorry to leave the house for some things, " said his wife, looking round. "We've been here a good many years now, Henry. "

"Leave the house!" repeated Mr. Gribble, putting down his tea-cup andstaring at her. 

"Leave the house! What are you talking about?"

"But we can't stay here, Henry, " faltered Mrs. Gribble. "Not with allthat money. They are building some beautiful houses in Charlton Grovenow--bathroom, tiled hearths, and beautiful stained glass in the frontdoor; and all for twenty-eight pounds a year. "

"Wonderful!" said the other, with a mocking glint in his eye. 

"And iron palings to the front garden, painted chocolate-colour pickedout with blue, " continued his wife, eyeing him wistfully. 

Mr. Gribble struck the table a blow with his fist. "This house is goodenough for me, " he roared; "and what's good enough for me is good enoughfor you. You want to waste money on show; that's what you want. Stained glass and bow-windows! You want a bow-window to loll about in, do you? Shouldn't wonder if you don't want a servant-gal to do thework. "

Mrs. Gribble flushed guiltily, and caught her breath. 

"We're going to live as we've always lived, " pursued Mr. Gribble. "Money ain't going to spoil me. I ain't going to put on no side justbecause I've come in for a little bit. If you had your way we shouldend up in the workhouse. "

He filled his pipe and smoked thoughtfully, while Mrs. Gribble clearedaway the tea-things and washed up. Pictures, good to look upon, formedin the smoke-pictures of a hale, hearty man walking along the primrosepath arm-in-arm with two hundred a year; of the mahogany and plush ofthe saloon bar at the Grafton Arms; of Sunday jaunts, and the Oval onsummer afternoons. 

He ate his breakfast slowly on the first of the month, and, the mealfinished, took a seat in the window with his pipe and waited for thepostman. Mrs. Gribble's timid reminders concerning the flight of timeand consequent fines for lateness at work fell on deaf ears. He jumpedup suddenly and met the postman at the door. 

"Has it come?" inquired Mrs. Gribble, extending her hand. 

By way of reply her husband tore open the envelope and, handing her thecovering letter, counted the notes and coin and placed them slowly inhis pockets. Then, as Mrs. Gribble looked at him, he looked at theclock, and, snatching up his hat, set off down the road. 

He was late home that evening, and his manner forbade conversation. Mrs. Gribble, with the bereaved air of one who has sustained anirremediable loss, sighed fitfully, and once applied her handkerchief toher eyes. 

"That's no good, " said her husband at last; "that won't bring him back. "

"Bring who back?" inquired Mrs. Gribble, in genuine surprise. 

"Why, your Uncle George, " said Mr. Gribble. "That's what you're turningon the water-cart for, ain't it?"

"I wasn't thinking of him, " said Mrs. Gribble, trying to speak bravely. "I was thinking of----"

"Well, you ought to be, " interrupted her husband. "He wasn't my uncle, poor chap, but I've been thinking of him, off and on, all day. Thatbloater-paste you are eating now came from his kindness. I brought ithome as a treat. "

"I was thinking of my clothes, " said Mrs. Gribble, clenching her handstogether under the table. "When I found I had come in for that money, the first thing I thought was that I should be able to have a decentdress. My old ones are quite worn out, and as for my hat and jacket--"

"Go on, " said her husband, fiercely. "Go on. That's just what I said:trust you with money, and we should be poorer than ever. "

"I'm ashamed to be seen out, " said Mrs. Gribble. 

"A woman's place is the home, " said Mr. Gribble; "and so long as I'msatisfied with your appearance nobody else matters. So long as I ampleased, that's everything. What do you want to go dressing yourself upfor? Nothing looks worse than an over-dressed woman. "

"What are we going to do with all that money, then?" inquired Mrs. Gribble, in trembling tones. 

"That'll do, " said Mr. Gribble, decidedly. "That'll do. One o' thesedays you'll go too far. You start throwing that money in my teeth andsee what happens. I've done my best for you all these years, andthere's no reason to suppose I sha'n't go on doing so. What did yousay? What!"

Mrs. Gribble turned to him a face rendered ghastly by terror. "I--Isaid--it was my money, " she stammered. 

Mr. Gribble rose, and stood for a full minute regarding her. Then, kicking a chair out of his way, he took his hat from its peg in thepassage and, with a bang of the street-door that sent a current offresh, sweet air circulating through the house, strode off to theGrafton Arms. 

It was past eleven when he returned, but even the spectacle of his wifelaboriously darning her old dress failed to reduce his good-humour inthe slightest degree. In a frivolous mood he even took a feather fromthe dismembered hat on the table and stuck it in his hair. He took thestump of a strong cigar from his lips and, exhaling a final cloud ofsmoke, tossed it into the fireplace. 

"Uncle George dead, " he said, at last, shaking his head. "Hadn'tpleasure acquaintance, but good man. Good man. "

He shook his head again and gazed mistily at his wife. 

"He was a teetotaller, " she remarked, casually. 

"He was tee-toiler, " repeated Mr. Gribble, regarding her equably. "Goodman. Uncle George dead-tee-toller. "

Mrs. Gribble gathered up her work and began to put it away. 

"Bed-time, " said Mr. Gribble, and led the way upstairs, singing. 

His good-humour had evaporated by the morning, and, having made a lightbreakfast of five cups of tea, he went off, with lagging steps, to work. It was a beautiful spring morning, and the idea of a man with twohundred a year and a headache going off to a warehouse instead of aday's outing seemed to border upon the absurd. What use was moneywithout freedom? His toil was sweetened that day by the knowledge thathe could drop it any time he liked and walk out, a free man, into thesunlight. 

By the end of a week his mind was made up. Each day that passed madehis hurried uprising and scrambled breakfast more and more irksome; andon Monday morning, with hands in trouser-pockets and legs stretched out, he leaned back in his chair and received his wife's alarming intimationsas to the flight of time with a superior and sphinx-like smile. 

"It's too fine to go to work to-day, " he said, lazily. "Come to that, any day is too fine to waste at work. "

Mrs. Gribble sat gasping at him. 

"So on Saturday I gave 'em a week's notice, " continued her husband, "andafter Potts and Co. Had listened while I told 'em what I thought of 'em, they said they'd do without the week's notice. "

"You've never given up your job?" said Mrs. Gribble. 

"I spoke to old Potts as one gentleman of independent means to another, "said Mr. Gribble, smiling. "Thirty-five bob a week after twenty years'service! And he had the cheek to tell me I wasn't worth that. When Itold him what he was worth he talked about sending for the police. Whatare you looking like that for? I've worked hard for you for thirtyyears, and I've had enough of it. Now it's your turn. "

"You'd find it hard to get another place at your age, " said his wife;"especially if they wouldn't give you a good character. "

"Place!" said the other, staring. "Place! I tell you I've done withwork. For a man o' my means to go on working for thirty-five bob a weekis ridiculous. "

"But suppose anything happened to me, " said his wife, in a troubledvoice. 

"That's not very likely, " said Mr. Gribble. 

"You're tough enough. And if it did your money would come to me. "

Mrs. Gribble shook her head. 

"WHAT?" roared her husband, jumping up. 

"I've only got it for life, Henry, as I told you, " said Mrs. Gribble, inalarm. "I thought you knew it would stop when I died. "

"And what's to become of me if anything happens to you, then?" demandedthe dismayed Mr. Gribble. "What am I to do?"

Mrs. Gribble put her handkerchief to her eyes. 

"And don't start weakening your constitution by crying, " shouted theincensed husband. 

"What are you mumbling?"

"I sa--sa--said, let's hope--you'll go first, " sobbed his wife. "Thenit will be all right. "

Mr. Gribble opened his mouth, and then, realizing the inadequacy of theEnglish language for moments of stress, closed it again. He broke hissilence at last in favour of Uncle George. 

"Mind you, " he said, concluding a peroration which his wife listened towith her fingers in her ears--"mind you, I reckon I've been absolutelydone by you and your precious Uncle George. I've given up a goodsituation, and now, any time you fancy to go off the hooks, I'm to beturned into the street. "

"I'll try and live, for your sake, Henry, " said his wife. 

"Think of my worry every time you are ill, " pursued the indignant Mr. Gribble. 

Mrs. Gribble sighed, and her husband, after a few further remarksconcerning Uncle George, his past and his future, announced hisintention of going to the lawyers and seeing whether anything could bedone. He came back in a state of voiceless gloom, and spent the rest ofa beautiful day indoors, smoking a pipe which had lost much of itsflavour, and regarding with a critical and anxious eye the small, weedyfigure of his wife as she went about her work. 

The second month's payment went into his pocket as a matter of course, but on this occasion Mrs. Gribble made no requests for new clothes orchange of residence. A little nervous cough was her sole comment. 

"Got a cold?" inquired her husband, starting. 

"I don't think so, " replied his wife, and, surprised and touched at thisunusual display of interest, coughed again. 

"Is it your throat or your chest?" he inquired, gruffly. 

Mrs. Gribble coughed again to see. After five coughs she said shethought it was her chest. 

"You'd better not go out o' doors to-day, then, " said Mr. Gribble. "Don't stand about in draughts; and I'll fetch you in a bottle of coughmixture when I go out. What about a lay-down on the sofa?"

His wife thanked him, and, reaching the sofa, watched with half-closedeyes as he cleared the breakfast-table. It was the first time he haddone such a thing in his life, and a little honest pride in thepossession of such a cough would not be denied. Dim possibilities ofits vast usefulness suddenly occurred to her. 

She took the cough mixture for a week, by which time other symptoms, extremely disquieting to an ease-loving man, had manifested themselves. Going upstairs deprived her of breath; carrying a loaded tea-trayproduced a long and alarming stitch in the side. The last time she everfilled the coal-scuttle she was discovered sitting beside it on thefloor in a state of collapse. 

"You'd better go and see the doctor, " said Mr. Gribble. 

Mrs. Gribble went. Years before the doctor had told her that she oughtto take life easier, and she was now able to tell him she was preparedto take his advice. 

"And, you see, I must take care of myself now for the sake of myhusband, " she said, after she had explained matters. 

"I understand, " said the doctor. 

"If anything happened to me--" began the patient. 

"Nothing shall happen, " said the other. "Stay in bed to-morrow morning, and I'll come round and overhaul you. "

Mrs. Gribble hesitated. "You might examine me and think I was allright, " she objected; "and at the same time you wouldn't know how Ifeel. "

"I know just how you feel, " was the reply. "Good-bye. "

He came round the following morning and, following the dejected Mr. Gribble upstairs, made a long and thorough investigation of his patient. 

"Say 'ninety-nine, '" he said, adjusting his stethoscope. 

Mrs. Gribble ticked off "ninety-nines" until her husband's ears achedwith them. The doctor finished at last, and, fastening his bag, stoodwith his beard in his hand, pondering. He looked from the little, whitefaced woman on the bed to the bulky figure of Mr. Gribble. 

"You had better lie up for a week, " he said, decidedly. "The rest willdo you good. "

"Nothing serious, I s'pose?" said Mr. Gribble, as he led the waydownstairs to the small parlour. 

"She ought to be all right with care, " was the reply. 

"Care?" repeated the other, distastefully. "What's the matter withher?"

"She's not very strong, " said the doctor; "and hearts don't improve withage, you know. Under favourable conditions she's good for some yearsyet. The great thing is never to thwart her. Let her have her own wayin everything. "

"Own way in everything?" repeated the dumbfounded Mr. Gribble. 

The doctor nodded. "Never let her worry about anything, " he continued;"and, above all, never find fault with her. "

"Not, " said Mr. Gribble, thickly--"not even for her own good?"

"Unless you want to run the risk of losing her. "

Mr. Gribble shivered. 

"Let her have an easy time, " said the doctor, taking up his hat. "Pamper her a bit if you like; it won't hurt her. Above all, don't letthat heart of hers get excited. "

He shook hands with the petrified Mr. Gribble and went off, grinningwickedly. He had few favourites, and Mr. Gribble was not one of them. 

For two days the devoted husband did the housework and waited on theinvalid. Then he wearied, and, at his wife's suggestion, a small girlwas engaged as servant. She did most of the nursing as well, and, having a great love for the sensational, took a grave view of hermistress's condition. 

It was a relief to Mr. Gribble when his wife came downstairs again, andhe was cheered to see that she looked much better. His satisfaction wasso marked that it brought on her cough again. 

"It's this house, I think, " she said, with a resigned smile. "It neverdid agree with me. 

"Well, you've lived in it a good many years, " said her husband, controlling himself with difficulty. 

"It's rather dark and small, " said Mrs. Gribble. "Not but what it isgood enough for me. And I dare say it will last my time. "

"Nonsense!" said her husband, gruffly. "You want to get out a bitmore. You've got nothing to do now we are wasting all this money on aservant. Why don't you go out for little walks?"

Mrs. Gribble went, after several promptings, and the fruit of one ofthem was handed by the postman to Mr. Gribble a few days afterwards. Half-choking with wrath and astonishment, he stood over his tremblingwife with the first draper's bill he had ever received. 

"One pound two shillings and threepence three-farthings!" he recited. "It must be a mistake. It must be for somebody else. "

Mrs. Gribble, with her hand to her heart, tottered to the sofa and laythere with her eyes closed. 

"I had to get some dress material, " she said, in a quavering voice. "You want me to go out, and I'm so shabby I'm ashamed to be seen. "

Mr. Gribble made muffled noises in his throat; then, afraid to trusthimself, he went into the back-yard and, taking a seat on an upturnedbucket, sat with his head in his hands peering into the future. 

The dressmaker's bill and a bill for a new hat came after the nextmonthly payment; and a bill for shoes came a week later. Hoping muchfrom the well-known curative effects of fine feathers, he managed totreat the affair with dignified silence. The only time he allowed fullplay to his feelings Mrs. Gribble took to her bed for two days, and thedoctor had a heart-to-heart talk with him on the doorstep. 

It was a matter of great annoyance to him that his wife still continuedto attribute her ill-health to the smallness and darkness of the house;and the fact that there were only two of the houses in Charlton Groveleft caused a marked depression of spirits. It was clear that she wasfretting. The small servant went further, and said that she was fadingaway. 

They moved at the September quarter, and a slight, but temporary, improvement in Mrs. Gribble's health took place. Her cheeks flushed andher eyes sparkled over new curtains and new linoleum. The tiledhearths, and stained glass in the front door filled her with a deep andsolemn thankfulness. The only thing that disturbed her was the factthat Mr. Gribble, to avoid wasting money over necessaries, contrived tospend an unduly large portion on personal luxuries. 

"We ought to have some new things for the kitchen, " she said one day. 

"No money, " said Mr. Gribble, laconically. 

"And a mat for the bathroom. "

Mr. Gribble got up and went out. 

She had to go to him for everything. Two hundred a year and not a pennyshe could call her own! She consulted her heart, and that faithfulorgan responded with a bound that set her nerves quivering. If shecould only screw her courage to the sticking-point the question would besettled for once and all. 

White and trembling she sat at breakfast on the first of November, waiting for the postman, while the unconscious Mr. Gribble went on withhis meal. The double-knocks down the road came nearer and nearer, andMr. Gribble, wiping his mouth, sat upright with an air of alert andpleased interest. Rapid steps came to the front door, and a double bangfollowed. 

"Always punctual, " said Mr. Gribble, good-humouredly. 

His wife made no reply, but, taking a blue-crossed envelope from themaid in her shaking fingers, looked round for a knife. Her gazeencountered Mr. Gribble's outstretched hand. 

"After you, " he said sharply. 

Mrs. Gribble found the knife, and, hacking tremulously at the envelope, peeped inside it and, with her gaze fastened on the window, fumbled forher pocket. She was so pale and shook so much that the words died awayon her husband's lips. 

"You--you had better let me take care of that, " he said, at last. 

"It is--all right, " gasped his wife. 

She put her hand to her throat and, hardly able to believe in hervictory, sat struggling for breath. Before her, grim and upright, herhusband sat, a figure of helpless smouldering wrath. 

"You might lose it, " he said, at last. "I sha'n't lose it, " said hiswife. 

To avoid further argument, she arose and went slowly upstairs. Throughthe doorway Mr. Gribble saw her helping herself up by the banisters, herleft hand still at her throat. Then he heard her moving slowly about inthe bedroom overhead. 

He took out his pipe and filled it mechanically, and was just holding amatch to the tobacco when he paused and gazed with a puzzled air at theceiling. "Blamed if it don't sound like somebody dancing!" he growled. 

STEPPING BACKWARDS

"Wonderful improvement, " said Mr. Jack Mills. "Show 'em to me again. "

Mr. Simpson took his pipe from his mouth and, parting his lips, revealedhis new teeth. 

"And you talk better, " said Mr. Mills, taking his glass from the counterand emptying it; "you ain't got that silly lisp you used to have. Whatdoes your missis think of 'em?"

"She hasn't seen 'em yet, " said the other. "I had 'em put in at dinner-time. I ate my dinner with 'em. "

Mr. Mills expressed his admiration. "If it wasn't for your white hairand whiskers you'd look thirty again, " he said, slowly. "How old areyou?"

"Fifty-three, " said his friend. "If it wasn't for being laughed at I'veoften thought of having my whiskers shaved off and my hair dyed black. People think I'm sixty. "

"Or seventy, " continued Mr. Mills. "What does it matter, peoplelaughing? You've got a splendid head of 'air, and it would dyebeautiful. "

Mr. Simpson shook his head and, ordering a couple of glasses of bitter, attacked his in silence. 

"It might be done gradual, " he said, after a long interval. "It don'tdo anybody good at the warehouse to look old. "

"Make a clean job of it, " counselled Mr. Mills, who was very fond of alittle cheap excitement. "Get it over and done with. You've got goodfeatures, and you'd look splendid clean-shaved. " Mr. Simpson smiledfaintly. "Only on Wednesday the barmaid here was asking after you, "pursued Mr. Mills. Mr. Simpson smiled again. "She says to me, 'Where'sGran'pa?' she says, and when I says, haughty like, 'Who do you mean?'she says, 'Father Christmas!' If you was to tell her that you are onlyfifty-three, she'd laugh in your face. "

"Let her laugh, " said the other, sourly. 

"Come out and get it off, " said Mr. Mills, earnestly. "There's abarber's in Bird Street; you could go in the little back room, where hecharges a penny more, and get it done without anybody being a bit thewiser. "

He put his hand on Mr. Simpson's shoulder, and that gentleman, with aglare in the direction of the fair but unconscious offender, rose in ahypnotized fashion and followed him out. Twice on the way to BirdStreet Mr. Simpson paused and said he had altered his mind, and twicedid the propulsion of Mr. Mills's right hand, and his flatteringargument, make him alter it again. 

It was a matter of relief to Mr. Simpson that the barber took hisinstructions without any show of surprise. It appeared, indeed, that anelderly man of seventy-eight had enlisted his services for a similarpurpose not two months before, and had got married six weeks afterwards. Age of the bride given as twenty-four, but said to have looked older. 

A snip of the scissors, and six inches of white beard fell to the floor. For the first time in thirty years Mr. Simpson felt a razor on his face. Then his hair was cut and shampooed; and an hour later he sat gazing ata dark-haired, clean-shaven man in the glass who gazed back at him withwondering eyes--a lean-jawed, good-looking man, who, in a favourablelight, might pass for forty. He turned and met the admiring eyes of Mr. Mills. 

"What did I tell you?" inquired the latter. "You look young enough tobe your own son. "

"Or grandson, " said the barber, with professional pride. 

Mr. Simpson got up slowly from the chair and, accompanied by theadmiring Mr. Mills, passed out into the street. The evening was young, and, at his friend's suggestion, they returned to the Plume of Feathers. 

"You give the order, " said Mr. Mills, "and see whether she recognizesyou. "

Mr. Simpson obeyed. 

"Don't you know him?" inquired Mr. Mills, as the barmaid turned away. 

"I don't think I have that pleasure, " said the girl, simpering. 

"Gran'pa's eldest boy, " said Mr. Mills. 

"Oh!" said the girl. "Well, I hope he's a better man than his father, then?"

"What do you mean by that?" demanded Mr. Simpson, painfully consciousof his friend's regards. 

"Nothing, " said the girl, "nothing. Only we can all be better, can'twe? He's a nice old gentleman; so simple. "

"Don't know you from Adam, " said Mr. Mills, as she turned away. "Now, if you ask me, I don't believe as your own missis will recognize you. "

"Rubbish, " said Mr. Simpson. "My wife would know me anywhere. We'vebeen married over thirty years. Thirty years of sunshine and shadowtogether. You're a single man, and don't understand these things. "

"P'r'aps you're right, " said his friend. "But it'll be a bit of a shockto her, anyway. What do you say to me stepping round and breaking thenews to her? It's a bit sudden, you know. She's expecting a white-haired old gentleman, not a black-haired boy. "

Mr. Simpson looked a bit uneasy. "P'r'aps I ought to have told herfirst, " he murmured, craning his neck to look in the glass at the backof the bar. 

"I'll go and put it right for you, " said his friend. "You stay here andsmoke your pipe. "

He stepped out briskly, but his pace slackened as he drew near thehouse. 

"I--I--came--to see you about your husband, " he faltered, as Mrs. Simpson opened the door and stood regarding him. 

"What's the matter?" she exclaimed, with a faint cry. "What's happenedto him?"

"Nothing, " said Mr. Mills, hastily. "Nothing serious, that is. I justcame round to warn you so that you will be able to know it's him. "

Mrs. Simpson let off a shriek that set his ears tingling. Then, steadying herself by the wall, she tottered into the front room, followed by the discomfited Mr. Mills, and sank into a chair. 

"He's dead!" she sobbed. "He's dead!"

"He is not, " said Mr. Mills. 

"Is he much hurt? Is he dying?" gasped Mrs. Simpson. 

"Only his hair, " said Mr. Mills, clutching at the opening. "He is nothurt at all. "

Mrs. Simpson dabbed at her eyes-and sat regarding him in bewilderment. Her twin chins were still quivering with emotion, but her eyes werebeginning to harden. "What are you talking about?" she inquired, in araspy voice. 

"He's been to a hairdresser's, " said Mr. Mills. "He's 'ad all his whitewhiskers cut off, and his hair cut short and dyed black. And, what withthat and his new teeth, I thought--he thought--p'r'aps you mightn't knowhim when he came home. "

"Dyed?" cried Mrs. Simpson, starting to her feet. 

Mr. Mills nodded. "He looks twenty years younger, " he said, with asmile. "He'd pass for his own son anywhere. "

Mrs. Simpson's eyes snapped. "Perhaps he'd pass for my son, " sheremarked. 

"Yes, easy, " said the tactful Mr. Mills. "You can't think what adifference it's made to him. That's why I came to see you--so youshouldn't be startled. "

"Thank you, " said Mrs. Simpson. "I'm much obliged. But you might havespared yourself the trouble. I should know my husband anywhere. "

"Ah, that's what you think, " retorted Mr. Mills, with a smile; "but thebarmaid at the Plume didn't. That's what made me come to you. "

Mrs. Simpson gazed at him. 

"I says to myself, " continued Mr. Mills, "'If she don't know him, I'mcertain his missis won't, and I'd better----'"

"You'd better go, " interrupted his hostess. 

Mr. Mills started, and then, with much dignity, stalked after her to thedoor. 

"As to your story, I don't believe a word of it, " said Mrs. Simpson. "Whatever else my husband is, he isn't a fool, and he'd no more think ofcutting off his whiskers and dyeing his hair than you would of tellingthe truth. "

"Seeing is believing, " said the offended Mr. Mills, darkly. 

"I'll wait till I do see, and then I sha'n't believe, " was the reply. "It is a put-up job between you and some other precious idiot, I expect. But you can't deceive me. If your black-haired friend comes here, he'llget it, I can tell you. "

She slammed the door on his protests and, returning to the parlour, gazed fiercely into the glass on the mantelpiece. It reflected sixteenstone of honest English womanhood, a thin wisp of yellowish-grey hair, and a pair of faded eyes peering through clumsy spectacles. 

"Son, indeed!" she said, her lips quivering. "You wait till you comehome, my lord!"

Mr. Simpson, with some forebodings, returned home an hour later. To aman who loved peace and quietness the report of the indignant Mr. Millswas not of a reassuring nature. He hesitated on the doorstep for a fewseconds while he fumbled for his key, and then, humming unconcernedly, hung his hat in the passage and walked into the parlour. 

The astonished scream of his wife warned him that Mr. Mills had by nomeans exaggerated. She rose from her seat and, crouching by thefireplace, regarded him with a mixture of anger and dismay. 

"It--it's all right, Milly, " said Mr. Simpson, with a smile thatrevealed a dazzling set of teeth. 

"Who are you?" demanded Mrs. Simpson. "How dare you call me by myChristian name. It's a good job for you my husband is not here. "

"He wouldn't hurt me, " said Mr. Simpson, with an attempt atfacetiousness. "He's the best friend I ever had. Why, we slept in thesame cradle. "

"I don't want any of your nonsense, " said Mrs. Simpson. "You get out ofmy house before I send for the police. How dare you come into arespectable woman's house in this fashion? Be off with you. "

"Now, look here, Milly----" began Mr. Simpson. 

His wife drew herself up to her full height of four feet eleven. 

"I've had a hair-cut and a shave, " pursued her husband; "also I've hadmy hair restored to its natural colour. But I'm the same man, and youknow it. "

"I know nothing of the kind, " said his wife, doggedly. "I don't knowyou from Adam. I've never seen you before, and I don't want to see youagain. You go away. "

"I'm your husband, and my place is at home, " replied Mr. Simpson. "Aman can have a shave if he likes, can't he? Where's my supper?"

"Go on, " said his wife. "Keep it up. But be careful my husband don'tcome in and catch you, that's all. "

Mr. Simpson gazed at her fixedly, and then, with an impatientexclamation, walked into the small kitchen and began to set the supper. A joint of cold beef, a jar of pickles, bread, butter, and cheese madean appetizing display. Then he took a jug from the dresser anddescended to the cellar. 

A musical trickling fell on the ear of Mrs. Simpson as she stood at theparlour door, and drew her stealthily to the cellar. The key was in thelock, and, with a sudden movement, she closed the door and locked it. Asharp cry from Mr. Simpson testified to his discomfiture. 

"Now I'm off for the police, " cried his wife. 

"Don't be a fool, " shouted Mr. Simpson, tugging wildly at the door-handle. "Open the door. "

Mrs. Simpson remained silent, and her husband resumed his efforts untilthe door-knob, unused to such treatment, came off in his hand. A suddenscrambling noise on the cellar stairs satisfied the listener that he hadnot pulled it off intentionally. 

She stood for a few moments, considering. It was a stout door andopened inwards. She took her bonnet from its nail in the kitchen and, walking softly to the street-door, set off to lay the case before abrother who lived a few doors away. 

"Poor old Bill, " said Mr. Cooper, when she had finished. "Still, itmight be worse; he's got the barrel o' beer with him. "

"It's not Bill, " said Mrs. Simpson. 

Mr. Cooper scratched his whiskers and looked at his wife. 

"She ought to know, " said the latter. "We'll come and have a look athim, " said Mr. Cooper. 

Mrs. Simpson pondered, and eyed him dubiously. 

"Come in and have a bit of supper, " she said at last. "There's a nicepiece of beef and pickles. "

"And Bill--I mean the stranger--sitting on the beer-barrel, " said Mr. Cooper, gloomily. 

"You can bring your beer with you, " said his sister, sharply. "Comealong. "

Mr. Cooper grinned, and, placing a couple of bottles in his coatpockets, followed the two ladies to the house. Seated at the kitchentable, he grinned again, as a persistent drumming took place on thecellar door. His wife smiled, and a faint, sour attempt in the samedirection appeared on the face of Mrs. Simpson. 

"Open the door!" bellowed an indignant voice. "Open the door!"

Mrs. Simpson, commanding silence with an uplifted finger, proceeded tocarve the beef. A rattle of knives and forks succeeded. 

"O-pen-the-door!" said the voice again. 

"Not so much noise, " commanded Mr. Cooper. "I can't hear myself eat. "

"Bob!" said the voice, in relieved accents, "Bob! Come and let meout. "

Mr. Cooper, putting a huge hand over his mouth, struggled nobly with hisfeelings. 

"Who are you calling 'Bob'?" he demanded, in an unsteady voice. "Youkeep yourself to yourself. I've heard all about you. You've got tostay there till my brother-in-law comes home. "

"It's me, Bob, " said Mr. Simpson--"Bill. "

"Yes, I dare say, " said Mr. Cooper; "but if you're Bill, why haven't yougot Bill's voice?"

"Let me out and look at me, " said Mr. Simpson. 

There was a faint scream from both ladies, followed by protests. 

"Don't be alarmed, " said Mr. Cooper, reassuringly. "I wasn't bornyesterday. I don't want to get a crack over the head. "

"It's all a mistake, Bob, " said the prisoner, appealingly. "I just hada shave and a haircut and--and a little hair-dye. If you open the dooryou'll know me at once. "

"How would it be, " said Mr. Cooper, turning to his sister, and speakingwith unusual distinctness--"how would it be if you opened the door, andjust as he put his head out I hit it a crack with the poker?"

"You try it on, " said the voice behind the door, hotly. "You know who Iam well enough, Bob Cooper. I don't want any more of your nonsense. Milly has put you up to this!"

"If your wife don't know you, how do you think I can?" said Mr. Cooper. "Now, look here; you keep quiet till my brother-in-law comes home. Ifhe don't come home perhaps we shall be more likely to think you're him. If he's not home by to-morrow morning we--Hsh! Hsh! Don't you knowthere's ladies present?"

"That settles it, " said Mrs. Cooper, speaking for the first time. "Mybrother-in-law would never talk like that. "

"I should never forgive him if he did, " said her husband, piously. 

He poured himself out another glass of beer and resumed his supper withrelish. Conversation turned on the weather, and from that to the priceof potatoes. Frantic efforts on the part of the prisoner to join in theconversation and give it a more personal turn were disregarded. Finallyhe began to kick with monotonous persistency on the door. 

"Stop it!" shouted Mr. Cooper. 

"I won't, " said Mr. Simpson. 

The noise became unendurable. Mr. Cooper, who had just lit his pipe, laid it on the table and looked round at his companions. 

"He'll have the door down soon, " he said, rising. "Halloa, there!"

"Halloa!" said the other. 

"You say you're Bill Simpson, " said Mr. Cooper, holding up a forefingerat Mrs. Simpson, who was about to interrupt. "If you are, tell ussomething you know that only you could know; something we know, so as toidentify you. Things about your past. "

A strange noise sounded behind the door. 

"Sounds as though he is smacking his lips, " said Mrs. Cooper to hersister-in-law, who was eyeing Mr. Cooper restlessly. 

"Very good, " said Mr. Simpson; "I agree. Who is there?"

"Me and my wife and Mrs. Simpson, " said Mr. Cooper. 

"He is smacking his lips, " whispered Mrs. Cooper. "Having a go at thebeer, perhaps. "

"Let's go back fifteen years, " said Mr. Simpson in meditative tones. "Do you remember that girl with copper-coloured hair that used to livein John Street?"

"No!" said Mr. Cooper, loudly and suddenly. 

"Do you remember coming to me one day--two days after Valentine Day, itwas--white as chalk and shaking like a leaf, and--"

"NO!" roared Mr. Cooper. 

"Very well, I must try something else, then, " said Mr. Simpson, philosophically. "Carry your mind back ten years, Bob Cooper--"

"Look here!" said Mr. Cooper, turning round with a ghastly smile. "We'd better get off home, Mary. I don't like interfering in otherpeople's concerns. Never did. "

"You stay where you are, " said his wife. 

"Ten years, " repeated the voice behind the door. "There was a newbarmaid at the Crown, and one night you----"

"If I listen to any more of this nonsense I shall burst, " remarked Mr. Cooper, plaintively. 

"Go on, " prompted Mrs. Cooper, grimly. "One night----"

"Never mind, " said Mr. Simpson. "It doesn't matter. But does heidentify me? Because if not I've got a lot more things I can try. "

The harassed Mr. Cooper looked around appealingly. 

"How do you expect me to recognize you--" he began, and stoppedsuddenly. 

"Go back to your courting days, then, " said Mr. Simpson, "when Mrs. Cooper wasn't Mrs. Cooper, but only wanted to be. "

Mrs. Cooper shivered; so did Mr. Cooper. 

"And you came round to me for advice, " pursued Mr. Simpson, inreminiscent accents, "because there was another girl you wasn't sure of, and you didn't want to lose them both. Do you remember sitting with thetwo photographs--one on each knee--and trying to make up your mind?"

"Wonderful imagination, " said Mr. Cooper, smiling in a ghastly fashionat his wife. "Hark at him!"

"I am harking, " said Mrs. Cooper. 

"Am I Bill Simpson or am I not?" demanded Mr. Simpson. 

"Bill was always fond of his joke, " said Mr. Cooper, with a glance atthe company that would have moved an oyster. "He was always fond ofmaking up things. You're like him in that. What do you think, Milly?"

"It's not my husband, " said Mrs. Simpson. 

"Tell us something about her, " said Mr. Cooper, hastily. 

"I daren't, " said Mr. Simpson. "Doesn't that prove I'm her husband?But I'll tell you things about your wife, if you like. "

"You dare!" said Mrs. Cooper, turning crimson, as she realized whatconfidences might have passed between husband and wife. "If you say aword of your lies about me, I don't know what I won't do to you. "

"Very well, I must go on about Bob, then--till he recognizes me, " saidMr. Simpson, patiently. "Carry your mind--"

"Open the door and let him out, " shouted Mr. Cooper, turning to hissister. "How can I recognize a man through a deal door?"

Mrs. Simpson, after a little hesitation, handed him the key, and thenext moment her husband stepped out and stood blinking in the gas-light. 

"Do you recognize me?" he asked, turning to Mr. Cooper. 

"I do, " said that gentleman, with a ferocious growl. 

"I'd know you anywhere, " said Mrs. Cooper, with emphasis. 

"And you?" said Mr. Simpson, turning to his wife. 

"You're not my husband, " she said, obstinately. 

"Are you sure?" inquired Mr. Cooper. 

"Certain. "

"Very good, then, " said her brother. "If he's not your husband I'mgoing to knock his head off for telling them lies about me. "

He sprang forward and, catching Mr. Simpson by the collar, shook himviolently until his head banged against the dresser. The next momentthe hands of Mrs. Simpson were in the hair of Mr. Cooper. 

"How dare you knock my husband about!" she screamed, as Mr. Cooper letgo and caught her fingers. "You've hurt him. "

"Concussion, I think, " said Mr. Simpson, with great presence of mind. 

His wife helped him to a chair and, wetting her handkerchief at the tap, tenderly bathed the dyed head. Mr. Cooper, breathing hard, stood bywatching until his wife touched him on the arm. 

"You come off home, " she said, in a hard voice. "You ain't wanted. Areyou going to stay here all night?"

"I should like to, " said Mr. Cooper, wistfully. 

THE THREE SISTERS

Thirty years ago on a wet autumn evening the household of Mallett'sLodge was gathered round the death-bed of Ursula Mallow, the eldest ofthe three sisters who inhabited it. The dingy moth-eaten curtains ofthe old wooden bedstead were drawn apart, the light of a smoking oil-lamp falling upon the hopeless countenance of the dying woman as sheturned her dull eyes upon her sisters. The room was in silence exceptfor an occasional sob from the youngest sister, Eunice. Outside therain fell steadily over the steaming marshes. 

"Nothing is to be changed, Tabitha, " gasped Ursula to the other sister, who bore a striking likeness to her although her expression was harderand colder; "this room is to be locked up and never opened. "

"Very well, " said Tabitha brusquely, "though I don't see how it canmatter to you then. "

"It does matter, " said her sister with startling energy. "How do youknow, how do I know that I may not sometimes visit it? I have lived inthis house so long I am certain that I shall see it again. I will comeback. Come back to watch over you both and see that no harm befallsyou. "

"You are talking wildly, " said Tabitha, by no means moved at hersister's solicitude for her welfare. "Your mind is wandering; you knowthat I have no faith in such things. "

Ursula sighed, and beckoning to Eunice, who was weeping silently at thebedside, placed her feeble arms around her neck and kissed her. 

"Do not weep, dear, " she said feebly. "Perhaps it is best so. A lonelywoman's life is scarce worth living. We have no hopes, no aspirations;other women have had happy husbands and children, but we in thisforgotten place have grown old together. I go first, but you must soonfollow. "

Tabitha, comfortably conscious of only forty years and an iron frame, shrugged her shoulders and smiled grimly. 

"I go first, " repeated Ursula in a new and strange voice as her heavyeyes slowly closed, "but I will come for each of you in turn, when yourlease of life runs out. At that moment I will be with you to lead yoursteps whither I now go. "

As she spoke the flickering lamp went out suddenly as thoughextinguished by a rapid hand, and the room was left in utter darkness. A strange suffocating noise issued from the bed, and when the tremblingwomen had relighted the lamp, all that was left of Ursula Mallow wasready for the grave. 

That night the survivors passed together. The dead woman had been afirm believer in the existence of that shadowy borderland which is saidto form an unhallowed link between the living and the dead, and even thestolid Tabitha, slightly unnerved by the events of the night, was notfree from certain apprehensions that she might have been right. 

With the bright morning their fears disappeared. The sun stole in atthe window, and seeing the poor earth-worn face on the pillow so touchedit and glorified it that only its goodness and weakness were seen, andthe beholders came to wonder how they could ever have felt any dread ofaught so calm and peaceful. A day or two passed, and the body wastransferred to a massive coffin long regarded as the finest piece ofwork of its kind ever turned out of the village carpenter's workshop. Then a slow and melancholy cortege headed by four bearers wound itssolemn way across the marshes to the family vault in the grey oldchurch, and all that was left of Ursula was placed by the father andmother who had taken that self-same journey some thirty years before. 

To Eunice as they toiled slowly home the day seemed strange and Sabbath-like, the flat prospect of marsh wilder and more forlorn than usual, theroar of the sea more depressing. Tabitha had no such fancies. The bulkof the dead woman's property had been left to Eunice, and her avaricioussoul was sorely troubled and her proper sisterly feelings of regret forthe deceased sadly interfered with in consequence. 

"What are you going to do with all that money, Eunice?" she asked asthey sat at their quiet tea. 

"I shall leave it as it stands, " said Eunice slowly. "We have both gotsufficient to live upon, and I shall devote the income from it tosupporting some beds in a children's hospital. "

"If Ursula had wished it to go to a hospital, " said Tabitha in her deeptones, "she would have left the money to it herself. I wonder you donot respect her wishes more. "

"What else can I do with it then?" inquired Eunice. 

"Save it, " said the other with gleaming eyes, "save it. "

Eunice shook her head. 

"No, " said she, "it shall go to the sick children, but the principal Iwill not touch, and if I die before you it shall become yours and youcan do what you like with it. "

"Very well, " said Tabitha, smothering her anger by a strong effort; "Idon't believe that was what Ursula meant you to do with it, and I don'tbelieve she will rest quietly in the grave while you squander the moneyshe stored so carefully. "

"What do you mean?" asked Eunice with pale lips. "You are trying tofrighten me; I thought that you did not believe in such things. "

Tabitha made no answer, and to avoid the anxious inquiring gaze of hersister, drew her chair to the fire, and folding her gaunt arms, composedherself for a nap. 

For some time life went on quietly in the old house. The room of thedead woman, in accordance with her last desire, was kept firmly locked, its dirty windows forming a strange contrast to the prim cleanliness ofthe others. Tabitha, never very talkative, became more taciturn thanever, and stalked about the house and the neglected garden like anunquiet spirit, her brow roughened into the deep wrinkles suggestive ofmuch thought. As the winter came on, bringing with it the long darkevenings, the old house became more lonely than ever, and an air ofmystery and dread seemed to hang over it and brood in its empty roomsand dark corridors. The deep silence of night was broken by strangenoises for which neither the wind nor the rats could be heldaccountable. Old Martha, seated in her distant kitchen, heard strangesounds upon the stairs, and once, upon hurrying to them, fancied thatshe saw a dark figure squatting upon the landing, though a subsequentsearch with candle and spectacles failed to discover anything. Eunicewas disturbed by several vague incidents, and, as she suffered from acomplaint of the heart, rendered very ill by them. Even Tabithaadmitted a strangeness about the house, but, confident in her piety andvirtue, took no heed of it, her mind being fully employed in anotherdirection. 

Since the death of her sister all restraint upon her was removed, andshe yielded herself up entirely to the stern and hard rules enforced byavarice upon its devotees. Her housekeeping expenses were kept rigidlyseparate from those of Eunice and her food limited to the coarsestdishes, while in the matter of clothes, the old servant was by far thebetter dressed. Seated alone in her bedroom this uncouth, hard-featuredcreature revelled in her possessions, grudging even the expense of thecandle-end which enabled her to behold them. So completely did thispassion change her that both Eunice and Martha became afraid of her, andlay awake in their beds night after night trembling at the chinking ofthe coins at her unholy vigils. 

One day Eunice ventured to remonstrate. "Why don't you bank your money, Tabitha?" she said; "it is surely not safe to keep such large sums insuch a lonely house. "

"Large sums!" repeated the exasperated Tabitha, "large sums! whatnonsense is this? You know well that I have barely sufficient to keepme. "

"It's a great temptation to housebreakers, " said her sister, notpressing the point. "I made sure last night that I heard somebody inthe house. "

"Did you?" said Tabitha, grasping her arm, a horrible look on her face. "So did I. I thought they went to Ursula's room, and I got out of bedand went on the stairs to listen. "

"Well?" said Eunice faintly, fascinated by the look on her sister'sface. 

"There was something there, " said Tabitha slowly. "I'll swear it, for Istood on the landing by her door and listened; something scuffling onthe floor round and round the room. At first I thought it was the cat, but when I went up there this morning the door was still locked, and thecat was in the kitchen. "

"Oh, let us leave this dreadful house, " moaned Eunice. 

"What!" said her sister grimly; "afraid of poor Ursula? Why should yoube? Your own sister who nursed you when you were a babe, and whoperhaps even now comes and watches over your slumbers. "

"Oh!" said Eunice, pressing her hand to her side, "if I saw her I shoulddie. I should think that she had come for me as she said she would. OGod! have mercy on me, I am dying. "

She reeled as she spoke, and before Tabitha could save her, sanksenseless to the floor. 

"Get some water, " cried Tabitha, as old Martha came hurrying up thestairs, "Eunice has fainted. "

The old woman, with a timid glance at her, retired, reappearing shortlyafterwards with the water, with which she proceeded to restore her much-loved mistress to her senses. Tabitha, as soon as this wasaccomplished, stalked off to her room, leaving her sister and Marthasitting drearily enough in the small parlour, watching the fire andconversing in whispers. 

It was clear to the old servant that this state of things could not lastmuch longer, and she repeatedly urged her mistress to leave a house solonely and so mysterious. To her great delight Eunice at lengthconsented, despite the fierce opposition of her sister, and at the mereidea of leaving gained greatly in health and spirits. A small butcomfortable house was hired in Morville, and arrangements made for aspeedy change. 

It was the last night in the old house, and all the wild spirits of themarshes, the wind and the sea seemed to have joined forces for onesupreme effort. When the wind dropped, as it did at brief intervals, the sea was heard moaning on the distant beach, strangely mingled withthe desolate warning of the bell-buoy as it rocked to the waves. Thenthe wind rose again, and the noise of the sea was lost in the fiercegusts which, finding no obstacle on the open marshes, swept with theirfull fury upon the house by the creek. The strange voices of the airshrieked in its chimneys windows rattled, doors slammed, and even, thevery curtains seemed to live and move. 

Eunice was in bed, awake. A small nightlight in a saucer of oil shed asickly glare upon the worm-eaten old furniture, distorting the mostinnocent articles into ghastly shapes. A wilder gust than usual almostdeprived her of the protection afforded by that poor light, and she laylistening fearfully to the creakings and other noises on the stairs, bitterly regretting that she had not asked Martha to sleep with her. But it was not too late even now. She slipped hastily to the floor, crossed to the huge wardrobe, and was in the very act of taking herdressing-gown from its peg when an unmistakable footfall was heard onthe stairs. The robe dropped from her shaking fingers, and with aquickly beating heart she regained her bed. 

The sounds ceased and a deep silence followed, which she herself wasunable to break although she strove hard to do so. A wild gust of windshook the windows and nearly extinguished the light, and when its flamehad regained its accustomed steadiness she saw that the door was slowlyopening, while the huge shadow of a hand blotted the papered wall. Still her tongue refused its office. The door flew open with a crash, acloaked figure entered and, throwing aside its coverings, she saw with ahorror past all expression the napkin-bound face of the dead Ursulasmiling terribly at her. In her last extremity she raised her fadedeyes above for succour, and then as the figure noiselessly advanced andlaid its cold hand upon her brow, the soul of Eunice Mallow left itsbody with a wild shriek and made its way to the Eternal. 

Martha, roused by the cry, and shivering with dread, rushed to the doorand gazed in terror at the figure which stood leaning over the bedside. As she watched, it slowly removed the cowl and the napkin and exposedthe fell face of Tabitha, so strangely contorted between fear andtriumph that she hardly recognized it. 

"Who's there?" cried Tabitha in a terrible voice as she saw the oldwoman's shadow on the wall. 

"I thought I heard a cry, " said Martha, entering. "Did anybody call?"

"Yes, Eunice, " said the other, regarding her closely. "I, too, heardthe cry, and hurried to her. What makes her so strange? Is she in atrance?"

"Ay, " said the old woman, falling on her knees by the bed and sobbingbitterly, "the trance of death. Ah, my dear, my poor lonely girl, thatthis should be the end of it! She has died of fright, " said the oldwoman, pointing to the eyes, which even yet retained their horror. "Shehas seen something devilish. "

Tabitha's gaze fell. "She has always suffered with her heart, " shemuttered; "the night has frightened her; it frightened me. "

She stood upright by the foot of the bed as Martha drew the sheet overthe face of the dead woman. 

"First Ursula, then Eunice, " said Tabitha, drawing a deep breath. "Ican't stay here. I'll dress and wait for the morning. "

She left the room as she spoke, and with bent head proceeded to her own. Martha remained by the bedside, and gently closing the staring eyes, fell on her knees, and prayed long and earnestly for the departed soul. Overcome with grief and fear she remained with bowed head until a suddensharp cry from Tabitha brought her to her feet. 

"Well, " said the old woman, going to the door. 

"Where are you?" cried Tabitha, somewhat reassured by her voice. 

"In Miss Eunice's bedroom. Do you want anything?"

"Come down at once. Quick! I am unwell. "

Her voice rose suddenly to a scream. "Quick! For God's sake! Quick, or I shall go mad. There is some strange woman in the house. "

The old woman stumbled hastily down the dark stairs. "What is thematter?" she cried, entering the room. "Who is it? What do you mean?"

"I saw it, " said Tabitha, grasping her convulsively by the shoulder. "Iwas coming to you when I saw the figure of a woman in front of me goingup the stairs. Is it--can it be Ursula come for the soul of Eunice, asshe said she would?"

"Or for yours?" said Martha, the words coming from her in some oddfashion, despite herself. 

Tabitha, with a ghastly look, fell cowering by her side, clutchingtremulously at her clothes. "Light the lamps, " she cried hysterically. "Light a fire, make a noise; oh, this dreadful darkness! Will it neverbe day!"

"Soon, soon, " said Martha, overcoming her repugnance and trying topacify her. "When the day comes you will laugh at these fears. "

"I murdered her, " screamed the miserable woman, "I killed her withfright. Why did she not give me the money? 'Twas no use to her. Ah!Look there!"

Martha, with a horrible fear, followed her glance to the door, but sawnothing. 

"It's Ursula, " said Tabitha from between her teeth. "Keep her off!Keep her off!"

The old woman, who by some unknown sense seemed to feel the presence ofa third person in the room, moved a step forward and stood before her. As she did so Tabitha waved her arms as though to free herself from thetouch of a detaining hand, half rose to her feet, and without a wordfell dead before her. 

At this the old woman's courage forsook her, and with a great cry sherushed from the room, eager to escape from this house of death andmystery. The bolts of the great door were stiff with age, and strangevoices seemed to ring in her ears as she strove wildly to unfasten them. Her brain whirled. She thought that the dead in their distant roomscalled to her, and that a devil stood on the step outside laughing andholding the door against her. Then with a supreme effort she flung itopen, and heedless of her night-clothes passed into the bitter night. The path across the marshes was lost in the darkness, but she found it;the planks over the ditches slippery and narrow, but she crossed them insafety, until at last, her feet bleeding and her breath coming in greatgasps, she entered the village and sank down more dead than alive on acottage doorstep. 

THE UNKNOWN

"Handsome is as 'andsome does, " said the night-watchman. It's an oldsaying, but it's true. Give a chap good looks, and it's precious littleelse that is given to 'im. He's lucky when 'is good looks 'ave gorn--orpartly gorn--to get a berth as night-watchman or some other hard andbad-paid job. 

One drawback to a good-looking man is that he generally marries young;not because 'e wants to, but because somebody else wants 'im to. Andthat ain't the worst of it: the handsomest chap I ever knew married fivetimes, and got seven years for it. It wasn't his fault, pore chap; hesimply couldn't say No. 

One o' the best-looking men I ever knew was Cap'n Bill Smithers, wotused to come up here once a week with a schooner called the Wild Rose. Funny thing about 'im was he didn't seem to know about 'is good looks, and he was one o' the quietest, best-behaved men that ever came up theLondon river. Considering that he was mistook for me more than once, itwas just as well. 

He didn't marry until 'e was close on forty; and then 'e made themistake of marrying a widder-woman. She was like all the rest of 'em--only worse. Afore she was married butter wouldn't melt in 'er mouth, but as soon as she 'ad got her "lines" safe she began to make up for it. 

For the fust month or two 'e didn't mind it, 'e rather liked beingfussed arter, but when he found that he couldn't go out for arf an hourwithout having 'er with 'im he began to get tired of it. Her idea wasthat 'e was too handsome to be trusted out alone; and every trip he made'e had to write up in a book, day by day, wot 'e did with himself. Eventhen she wasn't satisfied, and, arter saying that a wife's place was bythe side of 'er husband, she took to sailing with 'im every v'y'ge. 

Wot he could ha' seen in 'er I don't know. I asked 'im one evening--ina roundabout way--and he answered in such a long, roundabout way that Ididn't know wot to make of it till I see that she was standing justbehind me, listening. Arter that I heard 'er asking questions about me, but I didn't 'ave to listen: I could hear 'er twenty yards away, andsinging to myself at the same time. 

Arter that she treated me as if I was the dirt beneath 'er feet. Shenever spoke to me, but used to speak against me to other people. Shewas always talking to them about the "sleeping-sickness" and things o'that kind. She said night-watchmen always made 'er think of it somehow, but she didn't know why, and she couldn't tell you if you was to askher. The only thing I was thankful for was that I wasn't 'er husband. She stuck to 'im like his shadow, and I began to think at last it was apity she 'adn't got some thing to be jealous about and something tooccupy her mind with instead o' me. 

"She ought to 'ave a lesson, " I ses to the skipper one evening. "Areyou going to be follered about like this all your life? If she was madeto see the foolishness of 'er ways she might get sick of it. "

My idea was to send her on a wild-goose chase, and while the Wild Rosewas away I thought it out. I wrote a love-letter to the skipper signedwith the name of "Dorothy, " and asked 'im to meet me at Cleopatra'sNeedle on the Embankment at eight o'clock on Wednesday. I told 'im tolook out for a tall girl (Mrs. Smithers was as short as they make 'em)with mischievous brown eyes, in a blue 'at with red roses on it. 

I read it over careful, and arter marking it "Private, " twice in frontand once on the back, I stuck it down so that it could be blown opena'most, and waited for the schooner to come back. Then I gave a van-boytwopence to 'and it to Mrs. Smithers, wot was sitting on the deck alone, and tell 'er it was a letter for Captain Smithers. 

I was busy with a barge wot happened to be handy at the time, but I'eard her say that she would take it and give it to 'im. When I peepedround she 'ad got the letter open and was leaning over the side towind'ard trying to get 'er breath. Every now and then she'd giveanother look at the letter and open 'er mouth and gasp; but by and byshe got calmer, and, arter putting it back in the envelope, she gave ita lick as though she was going to bite it, and stuck it down agin. Thenshe went off the wharf, and I'm blest if, five minutes arterwards, ayoung fellow didn't come down to the ship with the same letter and askfor the skipper. 

"Who gave it you?" ses the skipper, as soon as 'e could speak. 

"A lady, " ses the young fellow. 

The skipper waved 'im away, and then 'e walked up and down the deck likea man in a dream. 

"Bad news?" I ses, looking up and catching 'is eye. 

"No, " he ses, "no. Only a note about a couple o' casks o' soda. "

He stuffed the letter in 'is pocket and sat on the side smoking till hiswife came back in five minutes' time, smiling all over with good temper. 

"It's a nice evening, " she ses, "and I think I'll just run over toDalston and see my Cousin Joe. "

The skipper got up like a lamb and said he'd go and clean 'imself. 

"You needn't come if you feel tired, " she ses, smiling at 'im. 

The skipper could 'ardly believe his ears. 

"I do feel tired, " he ses. "I've had a heavy day, and I feel more likebed than anything else. "

"You turn in, then, " she ses. "I'll be all right by myself. "

She went down and tidied herself up--not that it made much difference to'er--and, arter patting him on the arm and giving me a stare that wouldha' made most men blink, she took herself off. 

I was pretty busy that evening. Wot with shifting lighters from underthe jetty and sweeping up, it was pretty near ha'-past seven afore I 'ada minute I could call my own. I put down the broom at last, and wasjust thinking of stepping round to the Bull's Head for a 'arf-pint whenI see Cap'n Smithers come off the ship on to the wharf and walk to thegate. 

"I thought you was going to turn in?" I ses. 

"I did think of it, " he ses, "then I thought p'r'aps I'd better strollas far as Broad Street and meet my wife. "

It was all I could do to keep a straight face. I'd a pretty good ideawhere she 'ad gorn; and it wasn't Dalston. 

"Come in and 'ave 'arf a pint fust, " I ses. 

"No; I shall be late, " he ses, hurrying off. 

I went in and 'ad a glass by myself, and stood there so long thinking ofMrs. Smithers walking up and down by Cleopatra's Needle that at last thelandlord fust asked me wot I was laughing at, and then offered to makeme laugh the other side of my face. And then he wonders why people goto the Albion. 

I locked the gate rather earlier than usual that night. Sometimes ifI'm up that end I leave it a bit late, but I didn't want Mrs. Smithersto come along and nip in without me seeing her face. 

It was ten o'clock afore I heard the bell go, and when I opened thewicket and looked out I was surprised to see that she 'ad got theskipper with 'er. And of all the miserable-looking objects I ever sawin my life he was the worst. She 'ad him tight by the arm, and therewas a look on 'er face that a'most scared me. 

"Did you go all the way to Dalston for her?" I ses to 'im. 

Mrs. Smithers made a gasping sort o' noise, but the skipper didn'tanswer a word. 

She shoved him in in front of 'er and stood ever 'im while he climbedaboard. When he held out 'is hand to help 'er she struck it away. 

I didn't get word with 'im till five o'clock next morning, when he cameup on deck with his 'air all rough and 'is eyes red for want of sleep. 

"Haven't 'ad a wink all night, " he ses, stepping on to the wharf. 

I gave a little cough. "Didn't she 'ave a pleasant time at Dalston?" Ises. 

He walked a little further off from the ship. "She didn't go there, " heses, in a whisper. 

"You've got something on your mind, " I ses. "Wot is it?"

He wouldn't tell me at fust, but at last he told me all about the letterfrom Dorothy, and 'is wife reading it unbeknown to 'im and going to meet'er. 

"It was an awful meeting!" he ses. "Awful!"

I couldn't think wot to make of it. "Was the gal there, then?" I ses, staring at 'im. 

"No, " ses the skipper; "but I was. "

"You?" I ses, starting back. "You! Wot for? I'm surprised at you! Iwouldn't ha' believed it of you!"

"I felt a bit curious, " he ses, with a silly sort o' smile. "But wot Ican't understand is why the gal didn't turn up. "

"I'm ashamed of you, Bill, " I ses, very severe. 

"P'r'aps she did, " he ses, 'arf to 'imself, "and then saw my mississtanding there waiting. P'r'aps that was it. "

"Or p'r'aps it was somebody 'aving a game with you, " I ses. 

"You're getting old, Bill, " he ses, very short. "You don't understand. It's some pore gal that's took a fancy to me, and it's my dooty to meet'er and tell her 'ow things are. "

He walked off with his 'ead in the air, and if 'e took that letter outonce and looked at it, he did five times. 

"Chuck it away, " I ses, going up to him. 

"Certainly not, " he ses, folding it up careful and stowing it away in'is breastpocket. "She's took a fancy to me, and it's my dooty----"

"You said that afore, " I ses. 

He stared at me nasty for a moment, and then 'e ses: "You ain't seen anyyoung lady hanging about 'ere, I suppose, Bill? A tall young lady witha blue hat trimmed with red roses?"

I shook my 'ead. 

"If you should see 'er, " he ses. 

"I'll tell your missis, " I ses. "It 'ud be much easier for her to doher dooty properly than it would you. She'd enjoy doing it, too. "

He went off agin then, and I thought he 'ad done with me, but he 'adn't. He spoke to me that evening as if I was the greatest friend he 'ad inthe world. I 'ad two 'arfpints with 'im at the Albion--with his missiswalking up and down outside--and arter the second 'arf-pint he said hewanted to meet Dorothy and tell 'er that 'e was married, and that he'oped she would meet some good man that was worthy of 'er. 

I had a week's peace while the ship was away, but she was hardly madefast afore I 'ad it all over agin and agin. 

"Are you sure there's been no more letters?" he ses. 

"Sartain, " I ses. 

"That's right, " he ses; "that's right. And you 'aven't seen her walkingup and down?"

"No, " I ses. 

"'Ave you been on the look-out?" he ses. "I don't suppose a nice gallike that would come and shove her 'ead in at the gate. Did you look upand down the road?"

"Yes, " I ses. "I've fair made my eyes ache watching for her. "

"I can't understand it, " he ses. "It's a mystery to me, unless p'r'apsshe's been taken ill. She must 'ave seen me here in the fust place; andshe managed to get hold of my name. Mark my words, I shall 'ear fromher agin. "

"'Ow do you know?" I ses. 

"I feel it 'ere, " he ses, very solemn, laying his 'and on his chest. 

I didn't know wot to do. Wot with 'is foolishness and his missis'stemper, I see I 'ad made a mess of it. He told me she had 'ardly spokea word to 'im for two days, and when I said--being a married man myself--that it might ha' been worse, 'e said I didn't know wot I was talkingabout. 

I did a bit o' thinking arter he 'ad gorn aboard agin. I dursn't tell'im that I 'ad wrote the letter, but I thought if he 'ad one or two morehe'd see that some one was 'aving a game with 'im, and that it might do'im good. Besides which it was a little amusement for me. 

Arter everybody was in their beds asleep I sat on a clerk's stool in theoffice and wrote 'im another letter from Dorothy. I called 'im "DearBill, " and I said 'ow sorry I was that I 'adn't had even a sight of 'imlately, having been laid up with a sprained ankle and 'ad only just gotabout agin. I asked 'im to meet me at Cleopatra's Needle at eighto'clock, and said that I should wear the blue 'at with red roses. 

It was a very good letter, but I can see now that I done wrong inwriting it. I was going to post it to 'im, but, as I couldn't find anenvelope without the name of the blessed wharf on it, I put it in mypocket till I got 'ome. 

I got 'ome at about a quarter to seven, and slept like a child tillpretty near four. Then I went downstairs to 'ave my dinner. 

The moment I opened the door I see there was something wrong. Threetimes my missis licked 'er lips afore she could speak. Her face 'adgone a dirty white colour, and she was leaning forward with her 'ands onher 'ips, trembling all over with temper. 

"Is my dinner ready?" I ses, easy-like. "'Cos I'm ready for it. "

"I--I wonder I don't tear you limb from limb, " she ses, catching herbreath. 

"Wot's the matter?" I ses. 

"And then boil you, " she ses, between her teeth. "You in one pot andyour precious Dorothy in another. "

If anybody 'ad offered me five pounds to speak then, I couldn't ha' doneit. I see wot I'd done in a flash, and I couldn't say a word; but Ikept my presence o' mind, and as she came round one side o' the table Iwent round the other. 

"Wot 'ave you got to say for yourself?" she ses, with a scream. 

"Nothing, " I ses, at last. "It's all a mistake. "

"Mistake?" she ses. "Yes, you made a mistake leaving it in your pocket;that's all the mistake you've made. That's wot you do, is it, whenyou're supposed to be at the wharf? Go about with a blue 'at with redroses in it! At your time o' life, and a wife at 'ome working herselfto death to make both ends meet and keep you respectable!"

"It's all a mistake, " I ses. "The letter wasn't for me. "

"Oh, no, o' course not, " she ses. "That's why you'd got it in yourpocket, I suppose. And I suppose you'll say your name ain't Bill next. "

"Don't say things you'll be sorry for, " I ses. 

"I'll take care o' that, " she ses. "I might be sorry for not sayingsome things, but I don't think I shall. "

I don't think she was. I don't think she forgot anything, and she rakedup things that I 'ad contradicted years ago and wot I thought was allforgot. And every now and then, when she stopped for breath, she'd tryand get round to the same side of the table I was. 

She follered me to the street door when I went and called things up theroad arter me. I 'ad a snack at a coffee-shop for my dinner, but I'adn't got much appetite for it; I was too full of trouble and findingfault with myself, and I went off to my work with a 'art as heavy aslead. 

I suppose I 'adn't been on the wharf ten minutes afore Cap'n Smitherscame sidling up to me, but I got my spoke in fust. 

"Look 'ere, " I ses, "if you're going to talk about that forward hussywot's been writing to you, I ain't. I'm sick and tired of 'er. "

"Forward hussy!" he ses. "Forward hussy!" And afore I could drop mybroom he gave me a punch in the jaw that pretty near broke it. "Sayanother word against her, " he ses, "and I'll knock your ugly 'ead off. How dare you insult a lady?"

I thought I should 'ave gone crazy at fust, but I went off into theoffice without a word. Some men would ha' knocked 'im down for it, butI made allowances for 'is state o' mind, and I stayed inside until I see'im get aboard agin. 

He was sitting on deck when I went out, and his missis too, but neitherof 'em spoke a word. I picked up my broom and went on sweeping, whensuddenly I 'eard a voice at the gate I thought I knew, and in came mywife. 

"Ho!" she ses, calling out. "Ain't you gone to meet that gal atCleopatra's Needle yet? You ain't going to keep 'er waiting, are you?"

"H'sh!" I ses. 

"H'sh! yourself, " she ses, shouting. "I've done nothing to be ashamedof. I don't go to meet other people's husbands in a blue 'at with redroses. I don't write 'em love-letters, and say 'H'sh!' to my wife whenshe ventures to make a remark about it. I may work myself to skin andbone for a man wot's old enough to know better, but I'm not going to betrod on. Dorothy, indeed! I'll Dorothy 'er if I get the chance. "

Mrs. Smithers, wot 'ad been listening with all her ears, jumped up, andso did the skipper, and Mrs. Smithers came to the side in two steps. 

"Did you say 'Dorothy, ' ma'am?" she ses to my missis. 

"I did, " ses my wife. "She's been writing to my husband. "

"It must be the same one, " ses Mrs. Smithers. "She's been writing tomine too. "

The two of 'em stood there looking at each other for a minute, and thenmy wife, holding the letter between 'er finger and thumb as if it waspison, passed it to Mrs. Smithers. 

"It's the same, " ses Mrs. Smithers. "Was the envelope marked'Private'?"

"I didn't see no envelope, " ses my missis. "This is all I found. "

Mrs. Smithers stepped on to the wharf and, taking 'old of my missis bythe arm, led her away whispering. At the same moment the skipper walkedacross the deck and whispered to me. 

"Wot d'ye mean by it?" he ses. "Wot d'ye mean by 'aving letters fromDorothy and not telling me about it?"

"I can't help 'aving letters any more than you can, " I ses. "Nowp'r'aps you'll understand wot I meant by calling 'er a forward hussy. "

"Fancy 'er writing to you!" he ses, wrinkling 'is forehead. "Pph! Shemust be crazy. "

"P'r'aps it ain't a gal at all, " I ses. "My belief is somebody is'aving a game with us. "

"Don't be a fool, " he ses. "I'd like to see the party as would make afool of me like that. Just see 'im and get my 'ands on him. Hewouldn't want to play any more games. "

It was no good talking to 'im. He was 'arf crazy with temper. If I'dsaid the letter was meant for 'im he'd 'ave asked me wot I meant byopening it and getting 'im into more trouble with 'is missis, instead ofgiving it to 'im on the quiet. I just stood and suffered in silence, and thought wot a lot of 'arm eddication did for people. 

"I want some money, " ses my missis, coming back at last with Mrs. Smithers. 

That was the way she always talked when she'd got me in 'er power. Shetook two-and-tenpence--all I'd got--and then she ordered me to go andget a cab. 

"Me and this lady are going to meet her, " she ses, sniffing at me. 

"And tell her wot we think of 'er, " ses Mrs. Smithers, sniffing too. 

"And wot we'll do to 'er, " ses my missis. 

I left 'em standing side by side, looking at the skipper as if 'e was awaxworks, while I went to find a cab. When I came back they was in thesame persition, and 'e was smoking with 'is eyes shut. 

They went off side by side in the cab, both of 'em sitting bolt-upright, and only turning their 'eads at the last moment to give us looks wedidn't want. 

"I don't wish her no 'arm, " ses the skipper, arter thinking for a longtime. "Was that the fust letter you 'ad from 'er, Bill?"

"Fust and last, " I ses, grinding my teeth. 

"I hope they won't meet 'er, pore thing, " he ses. 

"I've been married longer than wot you have, " I ses, "and I tell you onething. It won't make no difference to us whether they do or theydon't, " I ses. 

And it didn't. 

THE VIGIL

"I'm the happiest man in the world, " said Mr. Farrer, in accents ofdreamy tenderness. 

Miss Ward sighed. "Wait till father comes in, " she said. 

Mr. Farrer peered through the plants which formed a welcome screen tothe window and listened with some uneasiness. He was waiting for thefirm, springy step that should herald the approach of ex-Sergeant-MajorWard. A squeeze of Miss Ward's hand renewed his courage. 

"Perhaps I had better light the lamp, " said the girl, after a longpause. "I wonder where mother's got to?"

"She's on my side, at any rate, " said Mr. Farrer. 

"Poor mother!" said the girl. "She daren't call her soul her own. Iexpect she's sitting in her bedroom with the door shut. She hatesunpleasantness. And there's sure to be some. "

"So do I, " said the young man, with a slight shiver. "But why shouldthere be any? He doesn't want you to keep single all your life, doeshe?"

"He'd like me to marry a soldier, " said Miss Ward. "He says that theyoung men of the present day are too soft. The only thing he thinksabout is courage and strength. "

She rose and, placing the lamp on the table, removed the chimney, andthen sought round the room for the matches. Mr. Farrer, who had twoboxes in his pocket, helped her. 

They found a box at last on the mantelpiece, and Mr. Farrer steadied herby placing one arm round her waist while she lit the lamp. A suddenexclamation from outside reminded them that the blind was not yet drawn, and they sprang apart in dismay as a grizzled and upright old warriorburst into the room and confronted them. 

"Pull that blind down!" he roared. "Not you, " he continued, as Mr. Farrer hastened to help. "What do you mean by touching my blind? Whatdo you mean by embracing my daughter? Eh? Why don't you answer?"

"We--we are going to be married, " said Mr. Farrer, trying to speakboldly. 

The sergeant-major drew himself up, and the young man gazed in dismay ata chest which seemed as though it would never cease expanding. 

"Married!" exclaimed the sergeant-major, with a grim laugh. "Married toa little tame bunny-rabbit! Not if I know it. Where's your mother?"he demanded, turning to the girl. 

"Upstairs, " was the reply. 

Her father raised his voice, and a nervous reply came from above. Aminute later Mrs. Ward, pale of cheek, entered the room. 

"Here's fine goings-on!" said the sergeant major, sharply. "I go for alittle walk, and when I come back this--this infernal cockroach has gotits arm round my daughter's waist. Why don't you look after her? Doyou know anything about it?"

His wife shook her head. 

"Five feet four and about thirty round the chest, and wants to marry mydaughter!" said the sergeant-major, with a sneer. "Eh? What's that?What did you say? What?"

"I said that's a pretty good size for a cockroach, " murmured Mr. Farrer, defiantly. "Besides, size isn't everything. If it was, you'd be ageneral instead of only a sergeant-major. "

"You get out of my house, " said the other, as soon as he could get hisbreath. "Go on Sharp with it. "

"I'm going, " said the mortified Mr. Farrer. "I'm sorry if I was rude. Icame on purpose to see you to-night. Bertha--Miss Ward, I mean--told meyour ideas, but I couldn't believe her. I said you'd got more commonsense than to object to a man just because he wasn't a soldier. "

"I want a man for a son-in-law, " said the other. "I don't say he's gotto be a soldier. "

"Just so, " said Mr. Farrer. "You're a man, ain't you? Well, I'll doanything that you'll do. "

"Pph!" said the sergeant-major. "I've done my little lot. I've been inaction four times, and wounded in three places. That's my tally. "

"The colonel said once that my husband doesn't know what fear is, " saidMrs. Ward, timidly. "He's afraid of nothing. "

"Except ghosts, " remarked her daughter, softly. 

"Hold your tongue, miss, " said her father, twisting his moustache. "Nosensible man is afraid of what doesn't exist. "

"A lot of people believe they do, though, " said Mr. Farrer, breaking in. "I heard the other night that old Smith's ghost has been seen againswinging from the apple tree. Three people have seen it. "

"Rubbish!" said the sergeant-major. 

"Maybe, " said the young man; "but I'll bet you, Mr. Ward, for all yourcourage, that you won't go up there alone at twelve o'clock one night tosee. "

"I thought I ordered you out of my house just now, " said the sergeant-major, glaring at him. 

"Going into action, " said Mr. Farrer, pausing at the door, "is one thing--you have to obey orders and you can't help yourself; but going to alonely cottage two miles off to see the ghost of a man that hangedhimself is another. "

"Do you mean to say I'm afraid?" blustered the other. 

Mr. Farrer shook his head. "I don't say anything, " he remarked; "buteven a cockroach does a bit of thinking sometimes. "

"Perhaps you'd like to go, " said the sergeant-major. 

"I don't mind, " said the young man; "and perhaps you'll think a littlebetter of me, Mr. Ward. If I do what you're afraid to do--"

Mrs. Ward and her daughter flung themselves hastily between thesergeant-major and his intended sacrifice. Mr. Farrer, pale butdetermined, stood his ground. 

"I'll dare you to go up and spend a night there alone, " he said. 

"I'll dare you, " said the incensed warrior, weakly. 

"All right; I'll spend Wednesday night there, " said Mr. Farrer, "andI'll come round on Thursday and let you know how I got on. "

"I dare say, " said the other; "but I don't want you here, and, what'smore, I won't have you. You can go to Smith's cottage on Wednesday attwelve o'clock if you like, and I'll go up any time between twelve andthree and make sure you're there. D'ye understand? I'll show youwhether I'm afraid or not. "

"There's no reason for you to be afraid, " said Mr. Farrer. "I shall bethere to protect you. That's very different to being there alone, as Ishall be. But, of course, you can go up the next night by yourself, andwait for me, if you like. If you like to prove your courage, I mean. "

"When I want to be ordered about, " said the sergeant-major, in amagnificent voice, "I'll let you know. Now go, before I do anything Imight be sorry for afterwards. "

He stood at the door, erect as a ramrod, and watched the young man upthe road. His conversation at the supper-table that night relatedalmost entirely to puppy-dogs and the best way of training them. 

He kept a close eye upon his daughter for the next day or two, but humannature has its limits. He tried to sleep one afternoon in his easy-chair with one eye open, but the exquisite silence maintained by MissWard was too much for it. A hum of perfect content arose from thefeature below, and five minutes later Miss Ward was speeding in searchof Mr. Farrer. 

"I had to come, Ted, " she said, breathlessly, "because to-morrow'sWednesday. I've got something to tell you, but I don't know whether Iought to. "

"Tell me and let me decide, " said Mr. Farrer, tenderly. 

"I--I'm so afraid you might be frightened, " said the girl. "I won'ttell you, but I'll give you a hint. If you see anything awful, don't befrightened. "

Mr. Farrer stroked her hand. "The only thing I'm afraid of is yourfather, " he said, softly. 

"Oh!" said the girl, clasping her hands together. "You have guessedit. "

"Guessed it?" said Mr. Farrer. 

Miss Ward nodded. "I happened to pass his door this morning, " she said, in a low voice. "It was open a little way, and he was standing up andmeasuring one of mother's nightgowns against his chest. I couldn'tthink what he was doing it for at first. "

Mr. Farrer whistled and his face hardened. 

"That's not fair play, " he said at last. "All right; I'll be ready forhim. "

"He doesn't like to be put in the wrong, " said Miss Ward. "He wants toprove that you haven't got any courage. He'd be disappointed if hefound you had. "

"All right, " said Mr. Farrer again. "You're an angel for coming to tellme. "

"Father would call me something else, I expect, " said Miss Ward, with asmile. "Good-bye. I want to get back before he wakes up. "

She was back in her chair, listening to her father's slumbers, half anhour before he awoke. 

"I'm making up for to-morrow night, " he said, opening his eyes suddenly. 

His daughter nodded. 

"Shows strength of will, " continued the sergeant-major, amiably. "Wellington could go to sleep at any time by just willing it. I'm thesame way; I can go to sleep at five minutes' notice. "

"It's a very useful gift, " said Miss Ward, piously, "very. "

Mr. Ward had two naps the next day. He awoke from the second at twelve-thirty a. M. , and in a somewhat disagreeable frame of mind rose andstretched himself. The house was very still. He took a small brown-paper parcel from behind the sofa and, extinguishing the lamp, put onhis cap and opened the front door. 

If the house was quiet, the little street seemed dead. He closed thedoor softly and stepped into the darkness. In terms which would havebeen understood by "our army in Flanders" he execrated the forefathers, the name, and the upbringing of Mr. Edward Farrer. 

Not a soul in the streets; not a light in a window. He left the littletown behind, passed the last isolated house on the road, and walked intothe greater blackness of a road between tall hedges. He had put oncanvas shoes with rubber soles, for the better surprise of Mr. Farrer, and his own progress seemed to partake of a ghostly nature. Every ghoststory he had ever heard or read crowded into his memory. For the firsttime in his experience even the idea of the company of Mr. Farrer seemedbetter than no company at all. 

The night was so dark that he nearly missed the turning that led to thecottage. For the first few yards he had almost to feel his way; then, with a greater yearning than ever for the society of Mr. Farrer, hestraightened his back and marched swiftly and noiselessly towards thecottage. 

It was a small, tumble-down place, set well back in an overgrown garden. The sergeant-major came to a halt just before reaching the gate, and, hidden by the hedge, unfastened his parcel and shook out his wife's bestnightgown. 

He got it over his head with some difficulty, and, with his arms in thesleeves, tried in vain to get his big hands through the small, lace-trimmed wristbands. Despite his utmost efforts he could only get two orthree fingers through, and after a vain search for his cap, which hadfallen off in the struggle, he made his way to the gate and stood therewaiting. It was at this moment that the thought occurred to him thatMr. Farrer might have failed to keep the appointment. 

His knees trembled slightly and he listened anxiously for any sound fromthe house. He rattled the gate and, standing with white armsoutstretched, waited. Nothing happened. He shook it again, and then, pulling himself together, opened it and slipped into the garden. As hedid so a large bough which lay in the centre of the footpaththoughtfully drew on one side to let him pass. 

Mr. Ward stopped suddenly and, with his gaze fixed on the bough, watchedit glide over the grass until it was swallowed up in the darkness. Hisown ideas of frightening Mr. Farrer were forgotten, and in a dry, choking voice he called loudly upon the name of that gentleman. 

He called two or three times, with no response, and then, in a state ofpanic, backed slowly towards the gate with his eyes fixed on the house. A loud crash sounded from somewhere inside, the door was flung violentlyopen, and a gruesome figure in white hopped out and squatted on thestep. 

It was evident to Sergeant-Major Ward that Mr. Farrer was not there, andthat no useful purpose could be served by remaining. It was clear thatthe young man's courage had failed him, and, with grey head erect, elbows working like the sails of a windmill, and the ends of thenightgown streaming behind him, the sergeant-major bent his stepstowards home. 

He dropped into a walk after a time and looked carefully over hisshoulder. So far as he could see he was alone, but the silence andloneliness were oppressive. He looked again, and, without stopping toinquire whether his eyes had deceived him, broke into a run again. Alternately walking and running, he got back to the town, and walkedswiftly along the streets to his house. Police-Constable Burgess, whowas approaching from the other direction, reached it at almost the samemoment, and, turning on his lantern, stood gaping with astonishment. "Anything wrong?" he demanded. 

"Wrong?" panted the sergeant-major, trying to put a little surprise anddignity into his voice. "No. "

"I thought it was a lady walking in her sleep at first, " said theconstable. "A tall lady. "

The sergeant-major suddenly became conscious of the nightgown. "I'vebeen--for a little walk, " he said, still breathing hard. "I felt a bitchilly--so I--put this on. "

"Suits you, too, " said the constable, stiffly. "But you Army men alwayswas a bit dressy. Now if I put that on I should look ridikerlous. "

The door opened before Mr. Ward could reply, and revealed, in the lightof a bedroom candle, the astonished countenances of his wife anddaughter. 

"George!" exclaimed Mrs. Ward. 

"Father!" said Miss Ward. 

The sergeant-major tottered in and, gaining the front room, flunghimself into his arm-chair. A stiff glass of whisky and water, handedhim by his daughter, was swallowed at a gulp. 

"Did you go?" inquired Mrs. Ward, clasping her hands. 

The sergeant-major, fully conscious of the suspicions aroused by hisdisordered appearance, rallied his faculties. "Not likely, " he said, with a short laugh. "After I got outside I knew it was no good goingthere to look for that young snippet. He'd no more think of going therethan he would of flying. I walked a little way down the road--forexercise--and then strolled back. "

"But--my nightgown?" said the wondering Mrs. Ward. 

"Put it on to frighten the constable, " said her husband. 

He stood up and allowed her to help him pull it off. His face wasflushed and his hair tousled, but the bright fierceness of his eye wasunquenched. In submissive silence she followed him to bed. 

He was up late next morning, and made but a poor breakfast. His after-dinner nap was disturbed, and tea was over before he had regained hiswonted calm. An hour later the arrival of a dignified and reproachfulMr. Farrer set him blazing again. 

"I have come to see you about last night, " said Mr. Farrer, before theother could speak. "A joke's a joke, but when you said you would come Inaturally expected you would keep your word. "

"Keep my word?" repeated the sergeant-major, almost choking with wrath. 

"I stayed there in that lonely cottage from twelve to three, as peragreement, waiting for you, " said Mr. Farrer. 

"You were not there, " shouted the sergeant-major. 

"How do you know?" inquired the other. 

The sergeant-major looked round helplessly at his wife and daughter. 

"Prove it, " said Mr. Farrer, pushing his advantage. "You questioned mycourage, and I stayed there three hours. Where were you?"

"You were not there, " said the sergeant-major. "I know. You can'tbluff me. You were afraid. "

"I was there, and I'll swear it, " said Mr. Farrer. "Still, there's noharm done. I'll go there again to-night, and I'll dare you to come forme?"

"Dare?" said the sergeant-major, choking. "Dare?"

"Dare, " repeated the other; "and if you don't come this time I'll spreadit all over Marcham. To-morrow night you can go there and wait for me. If you see what I saw--"

"Oh, Ted!" said Miss Ward, with a shiver. "Saw?" said the sergeant-major, starting. "Nothing harmful, " said Mr. Farrer, calmly. 

"As a matter of fact, it was very interesting. "

"What was?" demanded the sergeant-major. 

"It sounds rather silly, as a matter of fact, " said Mr. Farrer, slowly. "Still, I did see a broken bough moving about the garden. "

Mr. Ward regarded him open-mouthed. 

"Anything else?" he inquired, in a husky voice. 

"A figure in white, " said Mr. Farrer, "with long waving arms, hoppingabout like a frog. I don't suppose you believe me, but if you come to-night perhaps you'll see it yourself. It's very interesting. 

"Wer--weren't you frightened?" inquired the staring Mrs. Ward. 

Mr. Farrer shook his head. "It would take more than that to frightenme, " he said, simply. "I should be ashamed of myself to be afraid of apoor thing like that. It couldn't do me any harm. "

"Did you see its face?" inquired Mrs. Ward, nervously. 

Mr. Farrer shook his head. 

"What sort of a body had it got?" said her daughter. 

"So far as I could see, very good, " said Mr. Farrer. "Very good figure--not tall, but well made. "

An incredible suspicion that had been forming in the sergeant-major'smind began to take shape. "Did you see anything else?" he asked, sharply. 

"One more, " said Mr. Farrer, regarding him pleasantly. "One I call theRunning Ghost. "

"Run--" began the sergeant-major, and stopped suddenly. 

"It came in at the front gate, " pursued Mr. Farrer. "A tall, well-knitfigure of martial bearing--much about your height, Mr. Ward--with abeautiful filmy white robe down to its knees--"

He broke off in mild surprise, and stood gazing at Miss Ward, who, withher handkerchief to her mouth, was rocking helplessly in her chair. 

"Knees, " he repeated, quietly. "It came slowly down the path, and halfway to the house it stopped, and in a frightened sort of voice calledout my name. I was surprised, naturally, but before I could get to it--to reassure it--"

"That'll do, " said the sergeant-major, rising hastily and drawinghimself up to his full height. 

"You asked me, " said Mr. Farrer, in an aggrieved voice. 

"I know I did, " said the sergeant-major, breathing heavily. "I know Idid; but if I sit here listening to any more of your lies I shall beill. The best thing you can do is to take that giggling girl out andgive her a breath of fresh air. I have done with her. "

EASY MONEY

A lad of about twenty stepped ashore from the schooner Jane, and joininga girl, who had been avoiding for some ten minutes the ardent gaze ofthe night-watchman, set off arm-in-arm. The watchman rolled his eyesand shook his head slowly. 

Nearly all his money on 'is back, he said, and what little bit 'e's gotover he'll spend on 'er. And three months arter they're married he'llwonder wot 'e ever saw in her. If a man marries he wishes he 'adn't, and if he doesn't marry he wishes he 'ad. That's life. 

Looking at them two young fools reminds me of a nevy of Sam Small's; aman I think I've spoke to you of afore. As a rule Sam didn't talk muchabout 'is relations, but there was a sister of 'is in the country wot 'ewas rather fond of because 'e 'adn't seen 'er for twenty years. She 'adgot a boy wot 'ad just got a job in London, and when 'e wrote and told'er he was keeping company with the handsomest and loveliest and best'arted gal in the whole wide world, she wrote to Sam about it and asked'im to give 'is nevy some good advice. 

Sam 'ad just got back from China and was living with Peter Russet andGinger Dick as usual, and arter reading the letter about seven times andasking Ginger how 'e spelt "minx, " 'e read the letter out loud to themand asked 'em what they thought about it. 

Ginger shook his 'ead, and, arter thinking a bit, Peter shook his too. 

"She's caught 'im rather young, " ses Ginger. 

"They get it bad at that age too, " ses Peter. "When I was twenty, therewas a gal as I was fond of, and a regiment couldn't ha' parted us. "

"Wot did part you then?" ses Sam. 

"Another gal, " ses Peter; "a gal I took a fancy to, that's wot did it. "

"I was nearly married when I was twenty, " ses Ginger, with a far-awaylook in his eyes. "She was the most beautiful gal I ever saw in mylife; she 'ad one 'undred pounds a year of 'er own and she couldn't bearme out of her sight. If a thump acrost the chest would do that cough ofyours any good, Sam--"

"Don't take no notice of 'im, Ginger, " ses Peter. "Why didn't you marry'er?"

"'Cos I was afraid she might think I was arter 'er money, " ses Ginger, getting a little bit closer to Sam. 

Peter 'ad another turn then, and him and Ginger kept on talking aboutgals whose 'arts they 'ad broke till Sam didn't know what to do with'imself. 

"I'll just step round and see my nevy, while you and Peter are amusingeach other, " he ses at last. "I'll ask 'im to come round to-morrow andthen you can give 'im good advice. "

The nevy came round next evening. Bright, cheerful young chap 'e was, and he agreed with everything they said. When Peter said as 'ow allgals was deceivers, he said he'd known it for years, but they was bornthat way and couldn't 'elp it; and when Ginger said that no man ought tomarry afore he was fifty, he corrected 'im and made it fifty-five. 

"I'm glad to 'ear you talk like that, " ses Ginger. 

"So am I, " ses Peter. 

"He's got his 'ead screwed on right, " ses Sam, wot thought his sister'ad made a mistake. 

"I'm surprised when I look round at the wimmen men 'ave married, " sesthe nevy; "wot they could 'ave seen in them I can't think. Me and myyoung lady often laugh about it. "

"Your wot?" ses Sam, pretending to be very surprised. 

"My young lady, " ses the nevy. 

Sam gives a cough. "I didn't know you'd got a young lady, " he ses. 

"Well, I 'ave, " ses his nevy, "and we're going to be married atChristmas. "

"But--but you ain't fifty-five, " ses Ginger. 

"I'm twenty-one, " ses the nevy, "but my case is different. There isn'tanother young lady like mine in the world. She's different to all theothers, and it ain't likely I'm going to let 'er be snapped up bysomebody else. Fifty-five! Why, 'ow I'm to wait till Christmas I don'tknow. She's the prettiest and handsomest gal in the world; and she'sthe cleverest one I ever met. You ought to hear 'er laugh. Like musicit is. You'd never forget it. "

"Twenty-one is young, " ses Ginger, shaking his 'ead. "'Ave you known'er long?"

"Three months, " ses the nevy. "She lives in the same street as I do. 'Ow it is she ain't been snapped up before, I can't think, but she toldme that she didn't care for men till she saw me. "

"They all say that, " ses Ginger. 

"If I've 'ad it said to me once, I've 'ad it said twenty times, " sesPeter, nodding. 

"They do it to flatter, " ses old Sam, looking as if 'e knew all aboutit. "You wait till you are my age, Joe; then you'll know; why I shouldha' been married dozens o' times if I 'adn't been careful. "

"P'r'aps it was a bit on both sides, " ses Joe, looking at 'is uncle. "P'r'aps they was careful too. If you only saw my young lady, youwouldn't talk like that. She's got the truthfullest eyes in the world. Large grey eyes like a child's, leastways sometimes they are grey andsometimes they are blue. It seems to depend on the light somehow; I'ave seen them when they was a brown-brownish-gold. And she smiles with'er eyes. "

"Hasn't she got a mouth?" ses Ginger, wot was getting a bit tired ofit. 

"You've been crossed in love, " ses the nevy, staring at 'im. "That'swot's the matter with you. And looking at you, I don't wonder at it. "

Ginger 'arf got up, but Sam gave him a look and 'e sat down agin, andthen they all sat quiet while the nevy went on telling them about 'isgal. 

"I should like to see 'er, " ses his uncle at last. 

"Call round for me at seven to-morrow night, " ses the young 'un, "andI'll introduce you. "

"We might look in on our way, " ses Sam, arter Ginger and Peter 'ad bothmade eyes at 'im. "We're going out to spend the evening. "

"The more the merrier, " ses his nevy. "Well, so long; I expect she'swaiting for me. "

He got up and said good-bye, and arter he 'ad gorn, Sam and the othertwo shook their leads together and said what a pity it was to be twenty-one. Ginger said it made 'im sad to think of it, and Peter said 'ow anygal could look at a man under thirty, 'e couldn't think. 

They all went round to the nevy's the next evening. They was a littlebit early owing to Ginger's watch 'aving been set right by guess-work, and they 'ad to sit in a row on the nevy's bed waiting while 'e cleaned'imself, and changed his clothes. Although it was only Wednesday 'echanged his collar, and he was so long making up 'is mind about hisnecktie that 'is uncle tried to make it up for him. By the time he 'adfinished Sam said it made 'im think it was Sunday. 

Miss Gill was at 'ome when they got there, and all three of 'em was verymuch surprised that such a good-looking gal should take up with Sam'snevy. Ginger nearly said so, but Peter gave 'im a dig in the back justin time and 'e called him something under 'is breath instead. 

"Why shouldn't we all make an evening of it?" ses Ginger, arter they 'adbeen talking for about ten minutes, and the nevy 'ad looked at the clockthree or four times. 

"Because two's company, " ses Mrs. Gill. "Why you was young yourselfonce. Can't you remember?"

"He's young now, mother, " ses the gal, giving Ginger a nice smile. 

"I tell you wot we might do, " ses Mrs. Gill, putting 'er finger to herforehead and considering. "You and Joe go out and 'ave your evening, and me and these gentlemen'll go off together somewhere. I shall enjoyan outing; I ain't 'ad one for a long time. "

Ginger said it would be very nice if she thought it wouldn't make 'ertoo tired, and afore Sam or Peter could think of anything to say, shewas upstairs putting 'er bonnet on. They thought o' plenty to say whilethey was sitting alone with Ginger waiting for 'er. 

"My idea was for the gal and your nevy to come too, " ses pore Ginger. "Then I thought we might lose 'im and I would 'ave a little chat withthe gal, and show 'er 'ow foolish she was. "

"Well, you've done it now, " ses Sam. "Spoilt our evening. "

"P'r'aps good will come out of it, " ses Ginger. "If the old lady takesa fancy to us we shall be able to come agin, and then to please you, Sam, I'll have a go to cut your nevy out. "

Sam stared at 'im, and Peter stared too, and then they looked at eachother and began to laugh till Ginger forgot where 'e was and offered toput Sam through the winder. They was still quarrelling under theirbreath and saying wot they'd like to do to each other when Mrs. Gillcame downstairs. Dressed up to the nines she was, and they walked downthe street with a feeling that everybody was looking at em. 

One thing that 'elped to spoil the evening was that Mrs. Gill wouldn'tgo into public'ouses, but to make up for it she went into sweet-stuffshops three times and 'ad ices while they stood and watched 'er andwondered 'ow she could do it. And arter that she stopped at a placePoplar way, where there was a few swings and roundabouts and things. She was as skittish as a school-gal, and arter taking pore Sam on theroundabout till 'e didn't know whether he was on his 'eels or his 'ead, she got 'im into a boat-swing and swung 'im till he felt like a boy on'is fust v'y'ge. Arter that she took 'im to the rifle gallery, andafore he had 'ad three shots the man took the gun away from 'im andthreatened to send for the police. 

It was an expensive evening for all of them, but as Ginger said whenthey got 'ome they 'ad broken the ice, and he bet Peter Russet 'arf adollar that afore two days 'ad passed he'd take the nevy's gal for awalk. He stepped round by 'imself the next arternoon and made 'imselfagreeable to Mrs. Gill, and the day arter they was both so nice and kindthat 'e plucked up 'is courage and offered to take Miss Gill to the Zoo. 

She said "No" at fust, of course, but arter Ginger 'ad pointed out thatJoe was at work all day and couldn't take 'er 'imself, and that 'e wasJoe's uncle's best pal, she began to think better of it. 

"Why not?" ses her mother. "Joe wouldn't mind. He wouldn't be sosilly as to be jealous o' Mr. Ginger Dick. "

"Of course not, " ses the gal. "There's nothing to be jealous of. "

She let 'er mother and Ginger persuade 'er arter a time, and then shewent upstairs to clean herself, and put on a little silver brooch thatGinger said he 'ad picked up coming along. 

She took about three-quarters of an hour to get ready, but when she camedown, Ginger felt that it was quite worth it. He couldn't take 'is eyesoff 'er, as the saying goes, and 'e sat by 'er side on the top of theomnibus like a man in a dream. 

"This is better than being at sea, " he ses at last. 

"Don't you like the sea?" ses the gal. "I should like to go to seamyself. "

"I shouldn't mind the sea if you was there, " ses Ginger. 

Miss Gill turned her 'ead away. "You mustn't talk to me like that, " sheses in a soft voice. "Still--"

"Still wot?" ses Ginger, arter waiting a long time. 

"I mean, if I did go to sea, it would be nice to have a friend onboard, " she ses. "I suppose you ain't afraid of storms, are you?"

"I like 'em, " ses Ginger. 

"You look as if you would, " ses the gal, giving 'im a little look under'er eyelashes. "It must be nice to be a man and be brave. I wish I wasa man. "

"I don't, " ses Ginger. 

"Why not?" ses the gal, turning her 'ead away agin. 

Ginger didn't answer, he gave 'er elbow a little squeeze instead. Shetook it away at once, and Ginger was just wishing he 'adn't been sofoolish, when it came back agin, and they sat for a long time withoutspeaking a word. 

"The sea is all right for some things, " ses Ginger at last, "but supposea man married!"

The gal shook her 'ead. "It would be hard on 'is wife, " she ses, withanother little look at 'im, "but--but----"

Ginger pinched 'er elbow agin. 

"But p'r'aps he could get a job ashore, " she ses, "and then he couldtake his wife out for a bus-ride every day. "

They 'ad to change buses arter a time, and they got on a wrong bus andwent miles out o' their way, but neither of 'em seemed to mind. Gingersaid he was thinking of something else, and the gal said she was too. They got to the Zoological Gardens at last, and Ginger said he 'ad neverenjoyed himself so much. When the lions roared she squeezed his arm, and when they 'ad an elephant ride she was holding on to 'im with both'ands. 

"I am enjoying myself, " she ses, as Ginger 'elped her down and said"whoa" to the elephant. "I know it's wicked, but I can't 'elp it, andwot's more, I'm afraid I don't want to 'elp it. "

She let Ginger take 'er arm when she nearly tripped up over a peppermintball some kid 'ad dropped; and, arter a little persuasion, she 'ad abottle of lemonade and six bath-buns at a refreshment stall for dinner. 

She was as nice as she could be to him, but by the time they started for'ome, she 'ad turned so quiet that Ginger began to think 'e must 'aveoffended 'er in some way. 

"Are you tired?" he ses. 

"No, " ses the gal, shaking her 'ead, "I've enjoyed myself very much. "

"I thought you seemed a bit tired, " ses Ginger, arter waiting a longtime. 

"I'm not tired, " ses the gal, giving 'im a sad sort o' little smile, "but I'm a little bit worried, that's all. "

"Worried?" ses Ginger, very tender. "Wot's worrying you?"

"Oh, I can't tell you, " ses Miss Gill. "It doesn't matter; I'll try andcheer up. Wot a lovely day it is, isn't it? I shall remember it all mylife. "

"Wot is it worrying you?" ses Ginger, in a determined voice. "Can'tyou tell me?"

"No, " ses the gal, shaking her 'ead, "I can't tell you because you mightwant to 'elp me, and I couldn't allow that. "

"Why shouldn't I 'elp you?" ses Ginger. "It's wot we was put 'ere for:to 'elp one another. "

"I couldn't tell you, " ses the gal, just dabbing at'er eyes--with a lacepocket-'ankercher about one and a 'arf times the size of 'er nose. 

"Not if I ask you to?" ses Ginger. 

Miss Gill shook 'er 'ead, and then she tried her 'ardest to turn theconversation. She talked about the weather, and the monkey-'ouse, and agal in 'er street whose 'air changed from red to black in a singlenight; but it was all no good, Ginger wouldn't be put off, and at lastshe ses--

"Well, " she ses, "if you must know, I'm in a difficulty; I 'ave got toget three pounds, and where to get it I don't know any more than the manin the moon. Now let's talk about something else. "

"Do you owe it?" ses Ginger. 

"I can't tell you any more, " ses Miss Gill, "and I wouldn't 'ave toldyou that only you asked me, and somehow I feel as though I 'ave to tellyou things, when you want me to. "

"Three pounds ain't much, " ses pore Ginger, wot 'ad just been paid offarter a long v'y'ge. "I can let you 'ave it and welcome. "

Miss Gill started away from 'im as though she 'ad been stung, and ittook 'im all his time to talk 'er round agin. When he 'ad she begged'is pardon and said he was the most generous man she 'ad ever met, butit couldn't be. 

"I don't know when I could pay it back, " she ses, "but I thank you allthe same for offering it. "

"Pay it back when you like, " ses Ginger, "and if you never pay it back, it don't matter. "

He offered 'er the money four or five times, but she wouldn't take it, but at last just as they got near her 'ouse he forced it in her 'and, and put his own 'ands in his pockets when she tried to make 'im take itback. 

"You are good to me, " she ses arter they 'ad gone inside and 'er mother'ad gone upstairs arter giving Ginger a bottle o' beer to amuse 'imselfwith; "I shall never forget you. Never. "

"I 'ope not, " ses Ginger, starting. "Are you coming out agin to-morrow?"

"I'm afraid I can't, " ses Miss Gill, shaking her 'ead and lookingsorrowful. 

"Not with me?" ses Ginger, sitting down beside her on the sofa andputting 'is arm so that she could lean against it if she wanted to. 

"I don't think I can, " ses the gal, leaning back very gentle. 

"Think agin, " ses Ginger, squeezing 'er waist a little. 

Miss Gill shook her 'ead, and then turned and looked at 'im. Her facewas so close to his, that, thinking that she 'ad put it there a-purpose, he kissed it, and the next moment 'e got a clout that made his 'eadring. 

"'Ow dare you!" she ses, jumping up with a scream. "'Ow dare you! 'Owdare----"

"Wot's the matter?" ses her mother, coming downstairs like a runawaybarrel of treacle. 

"He--he's insulted me, " ses Miss Gill, taking out her little 'ankercherand sobbing. "He--k-kissed me!"

"WOT!" ses Mrs. Gill. "Well, I'd never 'ave believed it! Never! Why'e ought to be taken up. Wot d'ye mean by it?" she ses, turning onpore Ginger. 

Ginger tried to explain, but it was all no good, and two minutesarterwards 'e was walking back to 'is lodgings like a dog with its tailbetween its legs. His 'ead was going round and round with astonishment, and 'e was in such a temper that 'e barged into a man twice as big ashimself and then offered to knock his 'ead off when 'e objected. Andwhen Sam and Peter asked him 'ow he 'ad got on, he was in such a stateof mind it was all 'e could do to answer 'em. 

"And I'll trouble you for my 'arf dollar, Peter, " he ses; "I've been outwith 'er all day, and I've won my bet. "

Peter paid it over like a lamb, and then 'e sat thinking 'ard for a bit. 

"Are you going out with 'er agin to-morrow, Ginger?" he ses, arter atime. 

"I don't know, " ses Ginger, careless-like, "I ain't made up my mindyet. "

Peter looked at 'im and then 'e looked at Sam and winked. "Let me 'avea try, " he ses; "I'll bet you another 'arf dollar that I take 'er out. P'r'aps I shall come 'ome in a better temper than wot you 'ave. "

Old Sam said it wasn't right to play with a gal's 'art in that way, butarter a lot o' talking and telling Sam to shut up, Ginger took the bet. He was quite certain in his own mind that Miss Gill would slam the doorin Peter's face, and arter he 'ad started off next morning, Ginger andSam waited in to 'ave the pleasure of laughing in 'is face. 

They got tired of waiting at last, and went out to enjoy themselves, andbreathe the fresh air in a pub down Poplar way. They got back at seveno'clock, and ten minutes arterwards Peter came in and sat down on hisbed and began to smoke without a word. 

"Had a good time?" ses Ginger. 

"Rippin', " ses Peter, holding 'is pipe tight between 'is teeth. "Youowe me 'arf a dollar, Ginger. "

"Where'd you go?" ses Ginger, passing it over. 

"Crystal Pallis, " ses Peter. 

"Are you going to take 'er out to-morrow?" ses Sam. 

"I don't think so, " ses Peter, taking 'is pipe out of 'is mouth andyawning. "She's rather too young for me; I like talking to gals wot's abit older. I won't stand in Ginger's way. "

"I found 'er a bit young too, " ses Ginger. "P'r'aps we'd better letSam's nevy 'ave 'er. Arter all it's a bit rough on 'im when you come tothink of it. "

"You're quite right, " ses Peter, jumping up. "It's Sam's business, andwhy we should go out of our way and inconvenience ourselves to do 'im agood turn, I don't know. "

"It's Sam all over, " ses Ginger; "he's always been like that, and themore you try to oblige 'im, the more you may. "

They went on abusing Sam till he got sick and tired of it, and artertelling 'em wot he thought of 'em he slammed the door and went out andspent the evening by 'imself. He would 'ardly speak to them next day, but arter tea he brightened up a bit and they went off together as ifnothing 'ad happened, and the fust thing they saw as they turned out oftheir street was Sam's nevy coming along smiling till it made theirfaces ache to look at him. 

"I was just coming to see you, " he ses. 

"We're just off on business, " ses Ginger. 

"I wasn't going to stop, " ses the nevy; "my young lady just told me tostep along and show uncle wot she has bought me. A silver watch andchain and a gold ring. Look at it!"

He held his 'and under Ginger's nose, and Ginger stood there looking atit and opening and shutting 'is mouth like a dying fish. Then he tookPeter by the arm and led'im away while the nevy was opening 'is newwatch and showing Sam the works. 

"'Ow much did she get out of you, Peter?" ses Ginger, looking at 'imvery hard. "I don't want any lies. "

"Three quid, " ses Peter, staring at 'im. 

"Same 'ere, " ses Ginger, grinding his teeth. "Did she give you a smackon the side of your face?"

"Wot--are--you--talking about, Ginger?" ses Peter. 

"Did she smack your face too?" ses Ginger. 

"Yes, " ses Peter. 

HIS OTHER SELF

"They're as like as two peas, him and 'is brother, " said the night-watchman, gazing blandly at the indignant face of the lighterman on thebarge below; "and the on'y way I know this one is Sam is because Billdon't use bad langwidge. Twins they are, but the likeness is onlyoutside; Bill's 'art is as white as snow. "

He cut off a plug of tobacco, and, placing it in his cheek, waitedexpectantly. 

"White as snow, " he repeated. 

"That's me, " said the lighterman, as he pushed his unwieldy craft fromthe jetty. "I'll tell Sam your opinion of 'im. So long. "

The watchman went a shade redder than usual. That's twins all over, hesaid, sourly, always deceiving people. It's Bill arter all, and, instead of hurting 'is feelings, I've just been flattering of 'im up. 

It ain't the fust time I've 'ad trouble over a likeness. I've been atwin myself in a manner o' speaking. It didn't last long, but it lastedlong enough for me to always be sorry for twins, and to make a lot ofallowance for them. It must be very 'ard to have another man goingabout with your face on 'is shoulders, and getting it into trouble. 

It was a year or two ago now. I was sitting one evening at the gate, smoking a pipe and looking at a newspaper I 'ad found in the office, when I see a gentleman coming along from the swing-bridge. Well-dressed, clean-shaved chap 'e was, smoking a cigarette. He was walkingslow and looking about 'im casual-like, until his eyes fell on me, whenhe gave a perfect jump of surprise, and, arter looking at me very 'ard, walked on a little way and then turned back. He did it twice, and I wasjust going to say something to 'im, something that I 'ad been gettingready for 'im, when he spoke to me. 

"Good evening, " he ses. 

"Good evening, " I ses, folding the paper over and looking at 'im rathersevere. 

"I hope you'll excuse me staring, " he ses, very perlite; "but I've neverseen such a face and figger as yours in all my life--never. "

"Ah, you ought to ha' seen me a few years ago, " I ses. "I'm likeeverybody else--I'm getting on. "

"Rubbish!" he ses. "You couldn't be better if you tried. It'smarvellous! Wonderful! It's the very thing I've been looking for. Why, if you'd been made to order you couldn't ha' been better. "

I thought at fust he was by way of trying to get a drink out o' me--I'vebeen played that game afore--but instead o' that he asked me whether I'ddo 'im the pleasure of 'aving one with 'im. 

We went over to the Albion, and I believe I could have 'ad it in a pailif I'd on'y liked to say the word. And all the time I was drinking hewas looking me up and down, till I didn't know where to look, as thesaying is. 

"I came down 'ere to look for somebody like you, " he ses, "but I neverdreamt I should have such luck as this. I'm an actor, and I've got toplay the part of a sailor, and I've been worried some time 'ow to makeup for the part. D'ye understand?"

"No, " I ses, looking at 'im. 

"I want to look the real thing, " he ses, speaking low so the landlordshouldn't hear. "I want to make myself the living image of you. Ifthat don't fetch 'em I'll give up the stage and grow cabbages. "

"Make yourself like me?" I ses. "Why, you're no more like me than I'mlike a sea-sick monkey. "

"Not so much, " he ses. "That's where the art comes in. "

He stood me another drink, and then, taking my arm in a cuddling sort o'way, and calling me "Dear boy, " 'e led me back to the wharf andexplained. He said 'e would come round next evening with wot 'e calledhis make-up box, and paint 'is face and make 'imself up till peoplewouldn't know one from the other. 

"And wot about your figger?" I ses, looking at 'im. 

"A cushion, " he ses, winking, "or maybe a couple. And what aboutclothes? You'll 'ave to sell me those you've got on. Hat and all. Andboots. "

I put a price on 'em that I thought would 'ave finished 'im then andthere, but it didn't. And at last, arter paying me so many morecompliments that they began to get into my 'ead, he fixed up a meetingfor the next night and went off. 

"And mind, " he ses, coming back, "not a word to a living soul!"

He went off agin, and, arter going to the Bull's Head and 'aving a pintto clear my 'ead, I went and sat down in the office and thought it over. It seemed all right to me as far as I could see; but p'r'aps the pintdidn't clear my 'ead enough--p'r'aps I ought to 'ave 'ad two pints. 

I lay awake best part of next day thinking it over, and when I got up I'ad made up my mind. I put my clothes in a sack, and then I put on someothers as much like 'em as possible, on'y p'r'aps a bit older, in casethe missis should get asking questions; and then I sat wondering 'ow toget out with the sack without 'er noticing it. She's got a veryinquiring mind, and I wasn't going to tell her any lies about it. Besides which I couldn't think of one. 

I got out at last by playing a game on her. I pertended to drop 'arf adollar in the washus, and while she was busy on 'er hands and knees Iwent off as comfortable as you please. 

I got into the office with it all right, and, just as it was gettingdark, a cab drove up to the wharf and the actor-chap jumped out with abig leather bag. I took 'im into the private office, and 'e was soready with 'is money for the clothes that I offered to throw the sackin. 

He changed into my clothes fust of all, and then, asking me to sit downin front of 'im, he took a looking-glass and a box out of 'is bag andbegan to alter 'is face. Wot with sticks of coloured paint, and falseeyebrows, and a beard stuck on with gum and trimmed with a pair o'scissors, it was more like a conjuring trick than anything else. Then'e took a wig out of 'is bag and pressed it on his 'ead, put on the cap, put some black stuff on 'is teeth, and there he was. We both lookedinto the glass together while 'e gave the finishing touches, and then heclapped me on the back and said I was the handsomest sailorman inEngland. 

"I shall have to make up a bit 'eavier when I'm behind the floats, " heses; "but this is enough for 'ere. Wot do you think of the imitation ofyour voice? I think I've got it exact. "

"If you ask me, " I ses, "it sounds like a poll-parrot with a cold in the'ead. "

"And now for your walk, " he ses, looking as pleased as if I'd saidsomething else. "Come to the door and see me go up the wharf. "

I didn't like to hurt 'is feelings, but I thought I should ha' bust. Hewalked up that wharf like a dancing-bear in a pair of trousers too tightfor it, but 'e was so pleased with 'imself that I didn't like to tell'im so. He went up and down two or three times, and I never sawanything so ridikerlous in my life. 

"That's all very well for us, " he ses; "but wot about other people?That's wot I want to know. I'll go and 'ave a drink, and see whetheranybody spots me. "

Afore I could stop 'im he started off to the Bull's Head and went in, while I stood outside and watched 'im. 

"'Arf a pint o' four ale, " he ses, smacking down a penny. 

I see the landlord draw the beer and give it to 'im, but 'e didn't seemto take no notice of 'im. Then, just to open 'is eyes a bit, I walkedin and put down a penny and asked for a 'arf-pint. 

The landlord was just wiping down the counter at the time, and when Igave my order he looked up and stood staring at me with the wet cloth'eld up in the air. He didn't say a word--not a single word. He stoodthere for a moment smiling at us foolish-like, and then 'e let go o' thebeer-injin, wot 'e was 'olding in 'is left hand, and sat down heavy onthe bar floor. We both put our 'eads over the counter to see wot had'appened to 'im, and 'e started making the most 'orrible noise I 'aveever heard in my life. I wonder it didn't bring the fire-injins. Theactor-chap bolted out as if he'd been shot, and I was just thinking offollering 'im when the landlord's wife and 'is two daughters camerushing out and asking me wot I 'ad done to him. 

"There--there--was two of 'im!" ses the landlord, trembling andholding on to 'is wife's arm, as they helped 'im up and got 'im in thechair. "Two of 'im!"

"Two of wot?" ses his wife. 

"Two--two watchmen, " ses the landlord; "both exac'ly alike and bothasking for 'arf a pint o' four ale. "

"Yes, yes, " ses 'is wife. 

"You come and lay down, pa, " ses the gals. "I tell you there was, " sesthe landlord, getting 'is colour back, with temper. 

"Yes, yes; I know all about it, " ses 'is wife. "You come inside for abit; and, Gertie, you bring your father in a soda--a large soda. "

They got 'im in arter a lot o' trouble; but three times 'e came back asfar as the door, 'olding on to them, and taking a little peep at me. The last time he shook his 'ead at me, and said if I did it agin I couldgo and get my 'arf-pints somewhere else. 

I finished the beer wot the actor 'ad left, and, arter telling thelandlord I 'oped his eyesight 'ud be better in the morning, I wentoutside, and arter a careful look round walked back to the wharf. 

I pushed the wicket open a little way and peeped in. The actor wasstanding just by the fust crane talking to two of the hands off of theSaltram. He'd got 'is back to the light, but 'ow it was they didn'ttwig his voice I can't think. 

They was so busy talking that I crept along by the side of the wall andgot to the office without their seeing me. I went into the privateoffice and turned out the gas there, and sat down to wait for 'im. ThenI 'eard a noise outside that took me to the door agin and kept me there, 'olding on to the door-post and gasping for my breath. The cook of theSaltram was sitting on a paraffin-cask playing the mouth-orgin, and theactor, with 'is arms folded across his stummick, was dancing a horn-pipeas if he'd gorn mad. 

I never saw anything so ridikerlous in my life, and when I recollectedthat they thought it was me, I thought I should ha' dropped. 

A night-watchman can't be too careful, and I knew that it 'ud be allover Wapping next morning that I 'ad been dancing to a tuppenny-ha'pennymouth-orgin played by a ship's cook. A man that does 'is dooty alwayshas a lot of people ready to believe the worst of 'im. 

I went back into the dark office and waited, and by and by I 'eard themcoming along to the gate and patting 'im on the back and saying he oughtto be in a pantermime instead o' wasting 'is time night-watching. Heleft 'em at the gate, and then 'e came into the office smiling as ifhe'd done something clever. 

"Wot d'ye think of me for a understudy?" he ses, laughing. "They allthought it was you. There wasn't one of 'em 'ad the slightest suspicion--not one. "

"And wot about my character?" I ses, folding my arms acrost my chestand looking at him. 

"Character?" he ses, staring. "Why, there's no 'arm in dancing; it's ainnercent enjoyment. "

"It ain't one o' my innercent enjoyments, " I ses, "and I don't want toget the credit of it. If they hadn't been sitting in a pub all theevening they'd 'ave spotted you at once. "

"Oh!" he ses, very huffy. "How?"

"Your voice, " I ses. "You try and mimic a poll-parrot, and think it'slike me. And, for another thing, you walk about as though you'restuffed with sawdust. "

"I beg your pardon, " he ses; "the voice and the walk are exact. Exact. "

"Wot?" I ses, looking 'im up and down. "You stand there and 'ave theimpudence to tell me that my voice is like that?"

"I do, " he ses. 

"Then I'm sorry for you, " I ses. "I thought you'd got more sense. "

He stood looking at me and gnawing 'is finger, and by and by he ses, "Are you married?" he ses. 

"I am, " I ses, very short. 

"Where do you live?" he ses. 

I told 'im. 

"Very good, " he ses; "p'r'aps I'll be able to convince you arter all. By the way, wot do you call your wife? Missis?"

"Yes, " I ses, staring at him. "But wot's it got to do with you?"

"Nothing, " he ses. "Nothing. Only I'm going to try the poll-parrotvoice and the sawdust walk on her, that's all. If I can deceive 'erthat'll settle it. "

"Deceive her?" I ses. "Do you think I'm going to let you go round tomy 'ouse and get me into trouble with the missis like that? Why, youmust be crazy; that dancing must 'ave got into your 'ead. "

"Where's the 'arm?" he ses, very sulky. 

"'Arm?" I ses. "I won't 'ave it, that's all; and if you knew my missisyou'd know without any telling. "

"I'll bet you a pound to a sixpence she wouldn't know me, " he ses, veryearnest. 

"She won't 'ave the chance, " I ses, "so that's all about it. "

He stood there argufying for about ten minutes; but I was as firm as arock. I wouldn't move an inch, and at last, arter we was both on thepoint of losing our tempers, he picked up his bag and said as 'ow hemust be getting off 'ome. 

"But ain't you going to take those things off fust?" I ses. 

"No, " he ses, smiling. "I'll wait till I get 'ome. Ta-ta. "

He put 'is bag on 'is shoulder and walked to the gate, with me folleringof 'im. 

"I expect I shall see a cab soon, " he ses. "Good-bye. "

"Wot are you laughing at?" I ses. 

"On'y thoughts, " he ses. 

"'Ave you got far to go?' I ses. 

"No; just about the same distance as you 'ave, " he ses, and he went offspluttering like a soda-water bottle. 

I took the broom and 'ad a good sweep-up arter he 'ad gorn, and I wasjust in the middle of it when the cook and the other two chaps from theSaltram came back, with three other sailormen and a brewer's draymanthey 'ad brought to see me DANCE!

"Same as you did a little while ago, Bill, " ses the cook, taking out 'isbeastly mouth-orgin and wiping it on 'is sleeve. "Wot toon would youlike?"

I couldn't get away from 'em, and when I told them I 'ad never danced inmy life the cook asked me where I expected to go to. He told thedrayman that I'd been dancing like a fairy in sea-boots, and they allgot in front of me and wouldn't let me pass. I lost my temper at last, and, arter they 'ad taken the broom away from me and the drayman and oneo' the sailormen 'ad said wot they'd do to me if I was on'y fifty yearsyounger, they sheered off. 

I locked the gate arter 'em and went back to the office, and I 'adn'tbeen there above 'arf an hour when somebody started ringing the gate-bell as if they was mad. I thought it was the cook's lot come back atfust, so I opened the wicket just a trifle and peeped out. There was a'ansom-cab standing outside, and I 'ad hardly got my nose to the crackwhen the actor-chap, still in my clothes, pushed the door open andnipped in. 

"You've lost, " he ses, pushing the door to and smiling all over. "Where's your sixpence?"

"Lost?" I ses, hardly able to speak. "D'ye mean to tell me you've beento my wife arter all--arter all I said to you?"

"I do, " he ses, nodding, and smiling agin. "They were both deceived aseasy as easy. "

"Both?" I ses, staring at 'im. "Both wot? 'Ow many wives d'ye thinkI've got? Wot d'ye mean by it?"

"Arter I left you, " he ses, giving me a little poke in the ribs, "Ipicked up a cab and, fust leaving my bag at Aldgate, I drove on to your'ouse and knocked at the door. I knocked twice, and then an angry-looking woman opened it and asked me wot I wanted. 

"'It's all right, missis, ' I ses. 'I've got 'arf an hour off, and I'vecome to take you out for a walk. '

"'Wot?' she ses, drawing back with a start. 

"'Just a little turn round to see the shops, ' I ses; 'and if there'sanything particler you'd like and it don't cost too much, you shall 'aveit. '

"I thought at fust, from the way she took it, she wasn't used to yougiving 'er things. 

"'Ow dare you!' she ses. 'I'll 'ave you locked up. 'Ow dare you insulta respectable married woman! You wait till my 'usband comes 'ome. '

"'But I am your 'usband, ' I ses. 'Don't you know me, my pretty? Don'tyou know your pet sailor-boy?'

"She gave a screech like a steam-injin, and then she went next door andbegan knocking away like mad. Then I see that I 'ad gorn to numbertwelve instead of number fourteen. Your wife, your real wife, came outof number fourteen--and she was worse than the other. But they boththought it was you--there's no doubt of that. They chased me all theway up the road, and if it 'adn't ha' been for this cab that was justpassing I don't know wot would 'ave 'appened to me. "

He shook his 'ead and smiled agin, and, arter opening the wicket atrifle and telling the cabman he shouldn't be long, he turned to me andasked me for the sixpence, to wear on his watch-chain. 

"Sixpence!" I ses. "SIXPENCE! Wot do you think is going to 'appen tome when I go 'ome?"

"Oh, I 'adn't thought o' that, " he ses. "Yes, o' course. "

"Wot about my wife's jealousy?" I ses. "Wot about the other, and her'usband, a cooper as big as a 'ouse?"

"Well, well, " he ses, "one can't think of everything. It'll be all thesame a hundred years hence. "

"Look 'ere, " I ses, taking 'is shoulder in a grip of iron. "You comeback with me now in that cab and explain. D'ye see? That's wot you'vegot to do. "

"All right, " he ses; "certainly. Is--is the husband bad-tempered?"

"You'll see, " I ses; "but that's your business. Come along. "

"With pleasure, " he ses, 'elping me in. "'Arf a mo' while I tell thecabby where to drive to. "

He went to the back o' the cab, and afore I knew wot had 'appened the'orse had got a flick over the head with the whip and was going along ata gallop. I kept putting the little flap up and telling the cabby tostop, but he didn't take the slightest notice. Arter I'd done it threetimes he kept it down so as I couldn't open it. 

There was a crowd round my door when the cab drove up, and in the middleof it was my missis, the woman next door, and 'er husband, wot 'ad justcome 'ome. 'Arf a dozen of 'em helped me out, and afore I could say aword the cabman drove off and left me there. 

I dream of it now sometimes: standing there explaining and explaining, until, just as I feel I can't bear it any longer, two policemen come upand 'elp me indoors. If they had 'elped my missis outside it would be aeasier dream to have.