diff options
Diffstat (limited to 'old')
18 files changed, 28192 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/old/11482-0.txt b/old/11482-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..46d3a83 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/11482-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5949 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook of Deep Waters, by W.W. Jacobs + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you +will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before +using this eBook. + +Title: Deep Waters + +Author: W.W. Jacobs + +Release Date: October 30, 2006 [eBook #11482] +[Most recently updated: December 26, 2022] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +Produced by: David Widger + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DEEP WATERS *** + + + + +[Illustration] + +[Illustration] + + + + +DEEP WATERS + +By W. W. JACOBS + +1911 + + + + +CONTENTS + + SHAREHOLDERS + PAYING OFF + MADE TO MEASURE + SAM’S GHOST + BEDRIDDEN + THE CONVERT + HUSBANDRY + FAMILY CARES + THE WINTER OFFENSIVE + THE SUBSTITUTE + STRIKING HARD + DIRTY WORK + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + + “Found It over There, Just by the Mint,” Ses The Man, Pointing. + In the Light of The Lamp I Saw The Dead White Face. + Right Afore My Wife and the Party Next Door She Put Her Arm Round My Waist. + She Learnt the News in The First Half-hour from Her Landlady. + + + + +SHAREHOLDERS + + +Sailor man—said the night-watchman, musingly—a sailorman is like a fish +he is safest when ’e is at sea. When a fish comes ashore it is in for +trouble, and so is sailorman. One poor chap I knew ’ardly ever came +ashore without getting married; and he was found out there was no less +than six wimmen in the court all taking away ’is character at once. And +when he spoke up Solomon the magistrate pretty near bit ’is ’ead off. + +Then look at the trouble they get in with their money! They come ashore +from a long trip, smelling of it a’most, and they go from port to port +like a lord. Everybody has got their eye on that money—everybody except +the sailorman, that is—and afore he knows wot’s ’appened, and who ’as +got it, he’s looking for a ship agin. When he ain’t robbed of ’is +money, he wastes it; and when ’e don’t do either, he loses it. + +I knew one chap who hid ’is money. He’d been away ten months, and, +knowing ’ow easy money goes, ’e made up sixteen pounds in a nice little +parcel and hid it where nobody could find it. That’s wot he said, and +p’r’aps ’e was right. All I know is, he never found it. I did the same +thing myself once with a couple o’ quid I ran acrost unexpected, on’y, +unfortunately for me, I hid it the day afore my missus started ’er +spring-cleaning. + +One o’ the worst men I ever knew for getting into trouble when he came +ashore was old Sam Small. If he couldn’t find it by ’imself, Ginger +Dick and Peter Russet would help ’im look for it. Generally speaking +they found it without straining their eyesight. + +I remember one time they was home, arter being away pretty near a year, +and when they was paid off they felt like walking gold-mines. They went +about smiling all over with good-temper and ’appiness, and for the +first three days they was like brothers. That didn’t last, of course, +and on the fourth day Sam Small, arter saying wot ’e would do to Ginger +and Peter if it wasn’t for the police, went off by ’imself. + +His temper passed off arter a time, and ’e began to look cheerful agin. +It was a lovely morning, and, having nothing to do and plenty in ’is +pocket to do it with, he went along like a schoolboy with a ’arf +holiday. He went as far as Stratford on the top of a tram for a +mouthful o’ fresh air, and came back to his favourite coffee-shop with +a fine appetite for dinner. There was a very nice gentlemanly chap +sitting opposite ’im, and the way he begged Sam’s pardon for splashing +gravy over ’im made Sam take a liking to him at once. Nicely dressed he +was, with a gold pin in ’is tie, and a fine gold watch-chain acrost his +weskit; and Sam could see he ’ad been brought up well by the way he +used ’is knife and fork. He kept looking at Sam in a thoughtful kind o’ +way, and at last he said wot a beautiful morning it was, and wot a fine +day it must be in the country. In a little while they began to talk +like a couple of old friends, and he told Sam all about ’is father, wot +was a clergyman in the country, and Sam talked about a father of his as +was living private on three ’undred a year. + +“Ah, money’s a useful thing,” ses the man. + +“It ain’t everything,” ses Sam. “It won’t give you ’appiness. I’ve run +through a lot in my time, so I ought to know.” + +“I expect you’ve got a bit left, though,” ses the man, with a wink. + +Sam laughed and smacked ’is pocket. “I’ve got a trifle to go on with,” +he ses, winking back. “I never feel comfortable without a pound or two +in my pocket.” + +“You look as though you’re just back from a vy’ge,” ses the man, +looking at ’im very hard. + +“I am,” ses Sam, nodding. “Just back arter ten months, and I’m going to +spend a bit o’ money afore I sign on agin, I can tell you.” + +“That’s wot it was given to us for,” ses the man, nodding at him. + +They both got up to go at the same time and walked out into the street +together, and, when Sam asked ’im whether he might have the pleasure of +standing ’im a drink, he said he might. He talked about the different +kinds of drink as they walked along till Sam, wot was looking for a +high-class pub, got such a raging thirst on ’im he hardly knew wot to +do with ’imself. He passed several pubs, and walked on as fast as he +could to the Three Widders. + +“Do you want to go in there partikler?” ses the man, stopping at the +door. + +“No,” ses Sam, staring. + +“’Cos I know a place where they sell the best glass o’ port wine in +London,” ses the man. + +He took Sam up two or three turnings, and then led him into a quiet +little pub in a back street. There was a cosy little saloon bar with +nobody in it, and, arter Sam had ’ad two port wines for the look of the +thing, he ’ad a pint o’ six-ale because he liked it. His new pal had +one too, and he ’ad just taken a pull at it and wiped his mouth, when +’e noticed a little bill pinned up at the back of the bar. + +“Lost, between—the Mint and—Tower Stairs,” he ses, leaning forward and +reading very slow, “a gold—locket—set with—diamonds. Whoever +will—return—the same to—Mr. Smith—Orange Villa—Barnet—will receive +—thirty pounds—reward.” + +“’Ow much?” ses Sam, starting. “Thirty pounds,” ses the man. “Must be a +good locket. Where’d you get that?” he ses, turning to the barmaid. + +“Gentleman came in an hour ago,” ses the gal, “and, arter he had ’ad +two or three drinks with the guv’nor, he asks ’im to stick it up. ’Arf +crying he was—said ’it ’ad belonged to his old woman wot died.” + +She went off to serve a customer at the other end of the bar wot was +making little dents in it with his pot, and the man came back and sat +down by Sam agin, and began to talk about horse-racing. At least, he +tried to, but Sam couldn’t talk of nothing but that locket, and wot a +nice steady sailorman could do with thirty pounds. + +“Well, p’r’aps you’ll find it,” ses the man, chaffing-like. “’Ave +another pint.” + +Sam had one, but it only made ’im more solemn, and he got in quite a +temper as ’e spoke about casuals loafing about on Tower Hill with their +’ands in their pockets, and taking gold lockets out of the mouths of +hard-working sailormen. + +“It mightn’t be found yet,” ses the man, speaking thoughtful-like. +“It’s wonderful how long a thing’ll lay sometimes. Wot about going and +’aving a look for it?” + +Sam shook his ’ead at fust, but arter turning the thing over in his +mind, and ’aving another look at the bill, and copying down the name +and address for luck, ’e said p’r’aps they might as well walk that way +as anywhere else. + +“Something seems to tell me we’ve got a chance,” ses the man, as they +stepped outside. + +“It’s a funny feeling and I can’t explain it, but it always means good +luck. Last time I had it an aunt o’ mine swallered ’er false teeth and +left me five ’undred pounds.” + +“There’s aunts and aunts,” ses Sam, grunting. “I ’ad one once, but if +she had swallered ’er teeth she’d ha’ been round to me to help ’er buy +some new ones. That’s the sort she was.” + +“Mind!” ses the man, patting ’im on the shoulder, “if we do find this, +I don’t want any of it. I’ve got all I want. It’s all for you.” + +They went on like a couple o’ brothers arter that, especially Sam, and +when they got to the Mint they walked along slow down Tower Hill +looking for the locket. It was awkward work, because, if people saw +them looking about, they’d ’ave started looking too, and twice Sam +nearly fell over owing to walking like a man with a stiff neck and +squinting down both sides of his nose at once. When they got as far as +the Stairs they came back on the other side of the road, and they ’ad +turned to go back agin when a docker-looking chap stopped Sam’s friend +and spoke to ’im. + +“I’ve got no change, my man,” ses Sam’s pal, pushing past him. + +“I ain’t begging, guv’nor,” ses the chap, follering ’im up. “I’m trying +to sell some-thing.” + +“Wot is it?” ses the other, stopping. + +The man looked up and down the street, and then he put his ’ead near +them and whispered. + +“Eh?” ses Sam’s pal. + +“Something I picked up,” ses the man, still a-whispering. + +Sam got a pinch on the arm from ’is pal that nearly made him scream, +then they both stood still, staring at the docker. + +“Wot is it?” ses Sam, at last. + +The docker looked over his shoulder agin, and then ’e put his ’and in +his trouser-pocket and just showed ’em a big, fat gold locket with +diamonds stuck all over it. Then he shoved it back in ’is pocket, while +Sam’s pal was giving ’im a pinch worse than wot the other was. + +“It’s the one,” he ses, in a whisper. “Let’s ’ave another look at it,” +he ses to the docker. + +The man fished it out of his pocket agin, and held on to it tight while +they looked at it. + +“Where did you find it?” ses Sam. + +“Found it over there, just by the Mint,” ses the man, pointing. + +[Illustration: “Found it over there, just by the Mint,” ses the man, +pointing.] + +“As much as I can get,” ses the man. “I don’t quite know ’ow much it’s +worth, that’s the worst of it. Wot d’ye say to twenty pounds, and +chance it?” + +Sam laughed—the sort of laugh a pal ’ad once give him a black eye for. + +“Twenty pounds!” he ses; “twenty pounds! ’Ave you gorn out of your +mind, or wot? I’ll give you a couple of quid for it.” + +“Well, it’s all right, captin,” ses the man, “there’s no ’arm done. +I’ll try somebody else—or p’r’aps there’ll be a big reward for it. I +don’t believe it was bought for a ’undred pounds.” + +He was just sheering off when Sam’s pal caught ’im by the arm and asked +him to let ’im have another look at it. Then he came back to Sam and +led ’im a little way off, whispering to ’im that it was the chance of a +life time. + +“And if you prefer to keep it for a little while and then sell it, +instead of getting the reward for it, I dare say it would be worth a +hundred pounds to you,” ’e ses. + +“I ain’t got twenty pounds,” ses Sam. + +“’Ow much ’ave you got?” ses his pal. + +Sam felt in ’is pockets, and the docker came up and stood watching +while he counted it. Altogether it was nine pounds fourteen shillings +and tuppence. + +“P’r’aps you’ve got some more at ’ome,” ses his pal. + +“Not a farthing,” ses Sam, which was true as far as the farthing went. + +“Or p’r’aps you could borrer some,” ses his pal, in a soft, kind voice. +“I’d lend it to you with pleasure, on’y I haven’t got it with me.” + +Sam shook his ’ead, and at last, arter the docker ’ad said he wouldn’t +let it go for less than twenty, even to save ’is life, he let it go for +the nine pounds odd, a silver watch-chain, two cigars wot Sam ’ad been +sitting on by mistake, and a sheath-knife. + +“Shove it in your pocket and don’t let a soul see it,” ses the man, +handing over the locket. “I might as well give it away a’most. But it +can’t be ’elped.” + +He went off up the ’ill shaking his ’ead, and Sam’s pal, arter watching +him for a few seconds, said good-bye in a hurry and went off arter ’im +to tell him to keep ’is mouth shut about it. + +Sam walked back to his lodgings on air, as the saying is, and even did +a little bit of a skirt-dance to a pianner-organ wot was playing. Peter +and Ginger was out, and so was his land-lady, a respectable woman as +was minding the rest of ’is money for him, and when he asked ’er little +gal, a kid of eleven, to trust ’im for some tin she gave ’im a lecture +on wasting his money instead wot took ’is breath away—all but a word or +two. + +He got some of ’is money from his landlady at eight o’clock, arter +listening to ’er for ’arf an hour, and then he ’ad to pick it up off of +the floor, and say “Thank you” for it. + +He went to bed afore Ginger and Peter came in, but ’e was so excited he +couldn’t sleep, and long arter they was in bed he laid there and +thought of all the different ways of spending a ’undred pounds. He kept +taking the locket from under ’is piller and feeling it; then he felt ’e +must ’ave another look at it, and arter coughing ’ard two or three +times and calling out to the other two not to snore—to see if they was +awake—he got out o’ bed and lit the candle. Ginger and Peter was both +fast asleep, with their eyes screwed up and their mouths wide open, and +’e sat on the bed and looked at the locket until he was a’most dazzled. + +“’Ullo, Sam!” ses a voice. “Wot ’ave you got there?” + +Sam nearly fell off the bed with surprise and temper. Then ’e hid the +locket in his ’and and blew out the candle. + +“Who gave it to you?” ses Ginger. + +“You get off to sleep, and mind your own bisness,” ses Sam, grinding +’is teeth. + +He got back into bed agin and laid there listening to Ginger waking up +Peter. Peter woke up disagreeable, but when Ginger told ’im that Sam +’ad stole a gold locket as big as a saucer, covered with diamonds, he +altered ’is mind. + +“Let’s ’ave a look at it,” he ses, sitting up. + +“Ginger’s dreaming,” ses Sam, in a shaky voice. “I ain’t got no locket. +Wot d’you think I want a locket for?” + +Ginger got out o’ bed and lit the candle agin. “Come on!” he ses, +“let’s ’ave a look at it. I wasn’t dreaming. I’ve been awake all the +time, watching you.” + +Sam shut ’is eyes and turned his back to them. + +“He’s gone to sleep, pore old chap,” ses Ginger. “We’ll ’ave a look at +it without waking ’im. You take that side, Peter! Mind you don’t +disturb ’im.” + +He put his ’and in under the bed-clo’es and felt all up and down Sam’s +back, very careful. Sam stood it for ’arf a minute, and then ’e sat up +in bed and behaved more like a windmill than a man. + +“Hold his ’ands,” ses Ginger. + +“Hold ’em yourself,” ses Peter, dabbing ’is nose with his shirt-sleeve. + +“Well, we’re going to see it,” ses Ginger, “if we have to make enough +noise to rouse the ’ouse. Fust of all we’re going to ask you perlite; +then we shall get louder and louder. Show us the locket wot you stole, +Sam!” + +“Show—us—the—diamond locket!” ses Peter. + +“It’s my turn, Peter,” ses Ginger. “One, two, three. SHOW—US—TH’——” + +“Shut up,” ses Sam, trembling all over. “I’ll show it to you if you +stop your noise.” + +He put his ’and under his piller, but afore he showed it to ’em he sat +up in bed and made ’em a little speech. He said ’e never wanted to see +their faces agin as long as he lived, and why Ginger’s mother ’adn’t +put ’im in a pail o’ cold water when ’e was born ’e couldn’t +understand. He said ’e didn’t believe that even a mother could love a +baby that looked like a cod-fish with red ’air, and as for Peter +Russet, ’e believed his mother died of fright. + +“That’ll do,” ses Ginger, as Sam stopped to get ’is breath. “Are you +going to show us the locket, or ’ave we got to shout agin?” + +Sam swallered something that nearly choked ’im, and then he opened his +’and and showed it to them. Peter told ’im to wave it so as they could +see the diamonds flash, and then Ginger waved the candle to see ’ow +they looked that way, and pretty near set pore Sam’s whiskers on fire. + +They didn’t leave ’im alone till they knew as much about it as he could +tell ’em, and they both of ’em told ’im that if he took a reward of +thirty pounds for it, instead of selling it for a ’undred, he was a +bigger fool than he looked. + +“I shall turn it over in my mind,” ses Sam, sucking ’is teeth. “When I +want your advice I’ll ask you for it.” + +“We wasn’t thinking of you,” ses Ginger; “we was thinking of +ourselves.” + +“You!” ses Sam, with a bit of a start. “Wot’s it got to do with you?” + +“Our share’ll be bigger, that’s all,” ses Ginger. + +“Much bigger,” ses Peter. “I couldn’t dream of letting it go at thirty. +It’s chucking money away. Why, we might get two ’undred for it. Who +knows?” + +Sam sat on the edge of ’is bed like a man in a dream, then ’e began to +make a noise like a cat with a fish-bone in its throat, and then ’e +stood up and let fly. + +“Don’t stop ’im, Peter,” ses Ginger. “Let ’im go on; it’ll do him +good.” + +“He’s forgot all about that penknife you picked up and went shares in,” +ses Peter. “I wouldn’t be mean for twenty lockets.” + +“Nor me neither,” ses Ginger. “But we won’t let ’im be mean—for ’is own +sake. We’ll ’ave our rights.” + +“Rights!” ses Sam. “Rights! You didn’t find it.” + +“We always go shares if we find anything,” ses Ginger. “Where’s your +memory, Sam?” “But I didn’t find it,” ses Sam. + +“No, you bought it,” ses Peter, “and if you don’t go shares we’ll split +on you—see? Then you can’t sell it anyway, and perhaps you won’t even +get the reward. We can be at Orange Villa as soon as wot you can.” + +“Sooner,” ses Ginger, nodding. “But there’s no need to do that. If ’e +don’t go shares I’ll slip round to the police-station fust thing in the +morning.” + +“You know the way there all right,” ses Sam, very bitter. + +“And we don’t want none o’ your back-answers,” ses Ginger. “Are you +going shares or not?” + +“Wot about the money I paid for it?” ses Sam, “and my trouble?” + +Ginger and Peter sat down on the bed to talk it over, and at last, +arter calling themselves a lot o’ bad names for being too kind-’earted, +they offered ’im five pounds each for their share in the locket. + +“And that means you’ve got your share for next to nothing, Sam,” ses +Ginger. + +“Some people wouldn’t ’ave given you any-thing,” ses Peter. + +Sam gave way at last, and then ’e stood by making nasty remarks while +Ginger wrote out a paper for them all to sign, because he said he had +known Sam such a long time. + +It was a’most daylight afore they got to sleep, and the fust thing +Ginger did when he woke was to wake Sam up, and offer to shake ’ands +with him. The noise woke Peter up, and, as Sam wouldn’t shake ’ands +with ’im either, they both patted him on the back instead. + +They made him take ’em to the little pub, arter breakfast, to read the +bill about the reward. Sam didn’t mind going, as it ’appened, as he +’oped to meet ’is new pal there and tell ’im his troubles, but, though +they stayed there some time, ’e didn’t turn up. He wasn’t at the +coffee-shop for dinner, neither. + +Peter and Ginger was in ’igh spirits, and, though Sam told ’em plain +that he would sooner walk about with a couple of real pickpockets, they +wouldn’t leave ’im an inch. + +“Anybody could steal it off of you, Sam,” ses Ginger, patting ’im on +the weskit to make sure the locket was still there. “It’s a good job +you’ve got us to look arter you.” + +“We must buy ’im a money-belt with a pocket in it,” ses Peter. + +Ginger nodded at ’im. “Yes,” he ses, “that would be safer. And he’d +better wear it next to ’is skin, with everything over it. I should feel +more comfortable then.” + +“And wot about me?” says Sam, turning on ’im. + +“Well, we’ll take it in turns,” ses Ginger. “You one day, and then me, +and then Peter.” + +Sam gave way at last, as arter all he could see it was the safest thing +to do, but he ’ad so much to say about it that they got fair sick of +the sound of ’is voice. They ’ad to go ’ome for ’im to put the belt on; +and then at seven o’clock in the evening, arter Sam had ’ad two or +three pints, they had to go ’ome agin, ’cos he was complaining of +tight-lacing. + +Ginger had it on next day and he went ’ome five times. The other two +went with ’im in case he lost ’imself, and stood there making nasty +remarks while he messed ’imself up with a penn’orth of cold cream. It +was a cheap belt, and pore Ginger said that, when they ’ad done with +it, it would come in handy for sand-paper. + +Peter didn’t like it any better than the other two did, and twice they +’ad to speak to ’im about stopping in the street and trying to make +’imself more comfortable by wriggling. Sam said people misunderstood +it. + +Arter that they agreed to wear it outside their shirt, and even then +Ginger said it scratched ’im. And every day they got more and more +worried about wot was the best thing to do with the locket, and whether +it would be safe to try and sell it. The idea o’ walking about with a +fortune in their pockets that they couldn’t spend a’most drove ’em +crazy. + +“The longer we keep it, the safer it’ll be,” ses Sam, as they was +walking down Hounds-ditch one day. + +“We’ll sell it when I’m sixty,” ses Ginger, nasty-like. + +“Then old Sam won’t be ’ere to have ’is share,” ses Peter. + +Sam was just going to answer ’em back, when he stopped and began to +smile instead. Straight in front of ’im was the gentleman he ’ad met in +the coffee-shop, coming along with another man, and he just ’ad time to +see that it was the docker who ’ad sold him the locket, when they both +saw ’im. They turned like a flash, and, afore Sam could get ’is breath, +bolted up a little alley and disappeared. + +“Wot’s the row?” ses Ginger, staring. + +Sam didn’t answer ’im. He stood there struck all of a heap. + +“Do you know ’em?” ses Peter. + +Sam couldn’t answer ’im for a time. He was doing a bit of ’ard +thinking. + +“Chap I ’ad a row with the other night,” he ses, at last. + +He walked on very thoughtful, and the more ’e thought, the less ’e +liked it. He was so pale that Ginger thought ’e was ill and advised ’im +to ’ave a drop o’ brandy. Peter recommended rum, so to please ’em he +’ad both. It brought ’is colour back, but not ’is cheerfulness. + +He gave ’em both the slip next morning; which was easy, as Ginger was +wearing the locket, and, arter fust ’aving a long ride for nothing +owing to getting in the wrong train, he got to Barnet. + +It was a big place; big enough to ’ave a dozen Orange Villas, but pore +Sam couldn’t find one. It wasn’t for want of trying neither. + +He asked at over twenty shops, and the post-office, and even went to +the police-station. He must ha’ walked six or seven miles looking for +it, and at last, ’arf ready to drop, ’e took the train back. + +He ’ad some sausages and mashed potatoes with a pint o’ stout at a +place in Bishopsgate, and then ’e started to walk ’ome. The only +comfort he ’ad was the thought of the ten pounds Ginger and Peter ’ad +paid ’im; and when he remembered that he began to cheer up and even +smile. By the time he got ’ome ’e was beaming all over ’is face. + +“Where’ve you been?” ses Ginger. + +“Enjoying myself by myself,” ses Sam. + +“Please yourself,” ses Peter, very severe, “but where’d you ha’ been if +we ’ad sold the locket and skipped, eh?” + +“You wouldn’t ’ave enjoyed yourself by yourself then,” ses Ginger. +“Yes, you may laugh!” + +Sam didn’t answer ’im, but he sat down on ’is bed and ’is shoulders +shook till Ginger lost his temper and gave him a couple o’ thumps on +the back that pretty near broke it. + +“All right,” ses Sam, very firm. “Now you ’ave done for yourselves. I +’ad a’most made up my mind to go shares; now you sha’n’t ’ave a +ha’penny.” + +Ginger laughed then. “Ho!” he ses, “and ’ow are you going to prevent +it?” + +“We’ve got the locket, Sam,” ses Peter, smiling and shaking his ’ead at +’im. + +“And we’ll mind it till it’s sold,” ses Ginger. + +Sam laughed agin, short and nasty. Then he undressed ’imself very slow +and got into bed. At twelve o’clock, just as Ginger was dropping off, +he began to laugh agin, and ’e only stopped when ’e heard Ginger +getting out of bed to ’im. + +He stayed in bed next morning, ’cos he said ’is sides was aching, but +’e laughed agin as they was going out, and when they came back he ’ad +gorn. + +We never know ’ow much we’ like anything till we lose it. A week +arterwards, as Ginger was being ’elped out of a pawnshop by Peter, he +said ’e would give all he ’adn’t got for the locket to be near enough +to Sam to hear ’im laugh agin. + + + + +PAYING OFF + + +My biggest fault, said the night-watchman, gloomily, has been good +nature. I’ve spent the best part of my life trying to do my +fellow-creeturs a good turn. And what do I get for it? If all the +people I’ve helped was to come ’ere now there wouldn’t be standing room +for them on this wharf. ’Arf of them would be pushed overboard—and a +good place for ’em, too. + +I’ve been like it all my life. I was good-natured enough to go to sea +as a boy because a skipper took a fancy to me and wanted my ’elp, and +when I got older I was good-natured enough to get married. All my life +I’ve given ’elp and advice free, and only a day or two ago one of ’em +wot I ’ad given it to came round here with her ’usband and ’er two +brothers and ’er mother and two or three people from the same street, +to see her give me “wot for.” + +Another fault o’ mine has been being sharp. Most people make mistakes, +and they can’t bear to see anybody as don’t. Over and over agin I have +showed people ’ow silly they ’ave been to do certain things, and told +’em wot I should ha’ done in their place, but I can’t remember one that +ever gave me a “thank you” for it. + +There was a man ’ere ’arf an hour ago that reminded me of both of these +faults. He came in a-purpose to remind me, and ’e brought a couple o’ +grinning, brass-faced monkeys with ’im to see ’im do it. I was sitting +on that barrel when he came, and arter two minutes I felt as if I was +sitting on red-’ot cinders. He purtended he ’ad come in for the sake of +old times and to ask arter my ’ealth, and all the time he was doing ’is +best to upset me to amuse them two pore objecks ’e ’ad brought with +’im. + +Capt’in Mellun is his name, and ’e was always a foolish, soft-’eaded +sort o’ man, and how he ’as kept ’is job I can’t think. He used to +trade between this wharf and Bristol on a little schooner called the +Firefly, and seeing wot a silly, foolish kind o’ man he was, I took a +little bit o’ notice of ’im. Many and many a time when ’e was going to +do something he’d ha’ been sorry for arterwards I ’ave taken ’im round +to the Bear’s Head and stood ’im pint arter pint until he began to see +reason and own up that I was in the right. + +His crew was a’most as bad as wot he was, and all in one month one o’ +the ’ands gave a man ten shillings for a di’mond ring he saw ’im pick +up, wot turned out to be worth fourpence, and another one gave five bob +for a meerschaum pipe made o’ chalk. When I pointed out to ’em wot +fools they was they didn’t like it, and a week arterwards, when the +skipper gave a man in a pub ’is watch and chain and two pounds to hold, +to show ’is confidence in ’im, and I told ’im exactly wot I thought of +him, ’e didn’t like it. + +“You’re too sharp, Bill,” he says, sneering like. “My opinion is that +the pore man was run over. He told me ’e should only be away five +minutes. And he ’ad got an honest face: nice open blue eyes, and a +smile that done you good to look at.” + +“You’ve been swindled,” I ses, “and you know it. If I’d been done like +that I should never hold up my ’ead agin. Why, a child o’ five would +know better. You and your crew all seem to be tarred with the same +brush. You ain’t fit to be trusted out alone.” + +I believe ’e told his ’ands wot I said; anyway, two bits o’ coke missed +me by ’arf an inch next evening, and for some weeks not one of ’em +spoke a word to me. When they see me coming they just used to stand up +straight and twist their nose. + +It didn’t ’urt me, o’ course. I took no notice of ’em. Even when one of +’em fell over the broom I was sweeping with I took no notice of ’im. I +just went on with my work as if ’e wasn’t there. + +I suppose they ’ad been in the sulks about a month, and I was sitting +’ere one evening getting my breath arter a couple o’ hours’ ’ard work, +when one of ’em, George Tebb by name, came off the ship and nodded to +me as he passed. + +“Evening, Bill,” he ses. + +“Evening,” I ses, rather stiff. + +“I wanted a word with you, Bill,” he ses, in a low voice. “In fact, I +might go so far as to say I want to ask you to do me a favour.” + +I looked at him so ’ard that he coughed and looked away. + +“We might talk about it over a ’arf-pint,” he ses. + +“No, thank you,” I ses. “I ’ad a ’arf-pint the day before yesterday, +and I’m not thirsty.” + +He stood there fidgeting about for a bit, and then he puts his ’and on +my shoulder. + +“Well, come to the end of the jetty,” he ses. “I’ve got something +private to say.” + +I got up slow-like and followed ’im. I wasn’t a bit curious. Not a bit. +But if a man asks for my ’elp I always give it. + +“It’s like this,” he ses, looking round careful, “only I don’t want the +other chaps to hear because I don’t want to be laughed at. Last week an +old uncle o’ mine died and left me thirty pounds. It’s just a week ago, +and I’ve already got through five of ’em, and besides that the number +of chaps that want to borrow ten bob for a couple o’ days would +surprise you.” + +“I ain’t so easy surprised,” I ses, shaking my ’ead. + +“It ain’t safe with me,” he ses; “and the favour I want you to do is to +take care of it for me. I know it’ll go if I keep it. I’ve got it +locked up in this box. And if you keep the box I’ll keep the key, and +when I want a bit I’ll come and see you about it.” + +He pulled a little box out of ’is pocket and rattled it in my ear. + +“There’s five-and-twenty golden goblins in there,” he ses. “If you take +charge of ’em they’ll be all right. If you don’t, I’m pretty certain I +sha’n’t ’ave one of ’em in a week or two’s time.” + +At fust I said I wouldn’t ’ave anything to do with it, but he begged so +’ard that I began to alter my mind. + +“You’re as honest as daylight, Bill,” he ses, very earnest. “I don’t +know another man in the world I could trust with twenty-five quid— +especially myself. Now, put it in your pocket and look arter it for me. +One of the quids in it is for you, for your trouble.” + +He slipped the box in my coat-pocket, and then he said ’is mind was so +relieved that ’e felt like ’arf a pint. I was for going to the Bear’s +Head, the place I generally go to, because it is next door to the +wharf, so to speak, but George wanted me to try the beer at another +place he knew of. + +“The wharf’s all right,” he ses. “There’s one or two ’ands on the ship, +and they won’t let anybody run away with it.” + +From wot he said I thought the pub was quite close, but instead o’ that +I should think we walked pretty nearly a mile afore we got there. Nice +snug place it was, and the beer was all right, although, as I told +George Tebb, it didn’t seem to me any better than the stuff at the +Bear’s Head. + +He stood me two ’arf-pints and was just going to order another, when ’e +found ’e ’adn’t got any money left, and he wouldn’t hear of me paying +for it, because ’e said it was his treat. + +“We’ll ’ave a quid out o’ the box,” he ses. “I must ’ave one to go on +with, anyway.” I shook my ’ead at ’im. + +“Only one,” he ses, “and that’ll last me a fortnight. Besides, I want +to give you the quid I promised you.” + +I gave way at last, and he put his ’and in ’is trouser-pocket for the +key, and then found it wasn’t there. + +“I must ha’ left it in my chest,” he ses. “I’ll ’op back and get it.” +And afore I could prevent ’im he ’ad waved his ’and at me and gorn. + +My fust idea was to go arter ’im, but I knew I couldn’t catch ’im, and +if I tried to meet ’im coming back I should most likely miss ’im +through the side streets. So I sat there with my pipe and waited. + +I suppose I ’ad been sitting down waiting for him for about ten +minutes, when a couple o’ sailormen came into the bar and began to make +themselves a nuisance. Big fat chaps they was, and both of ’em more +than ’arf sprung. And arter calling for a pint apiece they began to +take a little notice of me. + +“Where d’you come from?” ses one of ’em. “’Ome,” I ses, very quiet. + +“It’s a good place—’ome,” ses the chap, shaking his ’ead. “Can you sing +‘’Ome, Sweet ’Ome’? You seem to ’ave got wot I might call a ‘singing +face.’” + +“Never mind about my face,” I ses, very sharp. “You mind wot you’re +doing with that beer. You’ll ’ave it over in a minute.” + +The words was ’ardly out of my mouth afore ’e gave a lurch and spilt +his pint all over me. From ’ead to foot I was dripping with beer, and I +was in such a temper I wonder I didn’t murder ’im; but afore I could +move they both pulled out their pocket-’ankerchers and started to rub +me down. + +“That’ll do,” I ses at last, arter they ’ad walked round me +’arf-a-dozen times and patted me all over to see if I was dry. “You get +off while you’re safe.” + +“It was my mistake, mate,” ses the chap who ’ad spilt the beer. + +“You get outside,” I ses. “Go on, both of you, afore I put you out.” + +They gave one look at me, standing there with my fists clenched, and +then they went out like lambs, and I ’eard ’em trot round the corner as +though they was afraid I was following. I felt a little bit damp and +chilly, but beer is like sea-water—you don’t catch cold through it—and +I sat down agin to wait for George Tebb. + +He came in smiling and out ’o breath in about ten minutes’ time, with +the key in ’is ’and, and as soon as I told ’im wot had ’appened to me +with the beer he turned to the landlord and ordered me six o’ rum ’ot +at once. + +“Drink that up,” he ses, ’anding it to me; “but fust of all give me the +box, so as I can pay for it.” + +I put my ’and in my pocket. Then I put it in the other one, and arter +that I stood staring at George Tebb and shaking all over. + +“Wot’s the matter? Wot are you looking like that for?” he ses. + +“It must ha’ been them two,” I ses, choking. “While they was purtending +to dry me and patting me all over they must ’ave taken it out of my +pocket.” + +“Wot are you talking about?” ses George, staring at me. + +“The box ’as gorn,” I ses, putting down the ’ot rum and feeling in my +trouser-pocket. “The box ’as gorn, and them two must ’ave taken it.” + +“Gorn!” ses George. “Gorn! My box with twenty-five pounds in, wot I +trusted you with, gorn? Wot are you talking about? It can’t be—it’s too +crool!” + +He made such a noise that the landlord wot was waiting for ’is money, +asked ’im wot he meant by it, and, arter he ’ad explained, I’m blest if +the landlord didn’t advise him to search me. I stood still and let +George go through my pockets, and then I told ’im I ’ad done with ’im +and I never wanted to see ’im agin as long as I lived. + +“I dare say,” ses George, “I dare say. But you’ll come along with me to +the wharf and see the skipper. I’m not going to lose five-and-twenty +quid through your carelessness.” + +I marched along in front of ’im with my ’ead in the air, and when he +spoke to me I didn’t answer him. He went aboard the ship when we got to +the wharf, and a minute or two arterwards ’e came to the side and said +the skipper wanted to see me. + +The airs the skipper gave ’imself was sickening. He sat down there in +’is miserable little rat-’ole of a cabin and acted as if ’e was a judge +and I was a prisoner. Most of the ’ands ’ad squeezed in there too, and +the things they advised George to do to me was remarkable. + +“Silence!” ses the skipper. “Now, watchman, tell me exactly ’ow this +thing ’appened.” + +“I’ve told you once,” I ses. + +“I know,” ses the skipper, “but I want you to tell me again to see if +you contradict yourself. I can’t understand ’ow such a clever man as +you could be done so easy.” + +I thought I should ha’ bust, but I kept my face wonderful. I just asked +’im wot the men was like that got off with ’is watch and chain and two +pounds, in case they might be the same. + +“That’s different,” he ses. + +“Oh!” ses I. “’Ow?” + +“I lost my own property,” he ses, “but you lost George’s, and ’ow a man +like you, that’s so much sharper and cleverer than other people, could +be had so easy, I can’t think. Why, a child of five would ha’ known +better.” + +“A baby in arms would ha’ known better,” ses the man wot ’ad bought the +di’mond ring. “’Ow could you ’ave been so silly, Bill? At your time o’ +life, too!” + +“That’s neither ’ere nor there,” ses the skip-per. “The watchman has +lost twenty-five quid belonging to one o’ my men. The question is, wot +is he going to do about it?” + +“Nothing,” I ses. “I didn’t ask ’im to let me mind the box. He done it +of ’is own free will. It’s got nothing to do with me.” + +“Oh, hasn’t it?” ses the skipper, drawing ’imself up. “I don’t want to +be too ’ard on you, but at the same time I can’t let my man suffer. +I’ll make it as easy as I can, and I order you to pay ’im five +shillings a week till the twenty-five pounds is cleared off.” + +I laughed; I couldn’t ’elp it. I just stood there and laughed at ’im. + +“If you don’t,” ses the skipper, “then I shall lay the facts of the +case afore the guv’nor. Whether he’ll object to you being in a pub a +mile away, taking care of a box of gold while you was supposed to be +taking care of the wharf, is his bisness. My bisness is to see that my +man ’as ’is rights.” + +“’Ear, ’ear !” ses the crew. + +“You please yourself, watchman,” ses the skipper. “You’re such a clever +man that no doubt you could get a better job to-morrow. There must be +’eaps of people wanting a man like you. It’s for you to decide. That’s +all I’ve got to say—five bob a week till pore George ’as got ’is money +back, or else I put the case afore the guv’nor. Wot did you say?” + +I said it agin, and, as ’e didn’t seem to understand, I said it once +more. + +“Please yourself,” ’e ses, when I ’ad finished. “You’re an old man, and +five bob a week can’t be much loss to you. You’ve got nothing to spend +it on, at your time o’ life. And you’ve got a very soft job ’ere. Wot?” + +I didn’t answer ’im. I just turned round, and, arter giving a man wot +stood in my way a punch in the chest, I got up on deck and on to the +wharf, and said my little say all alone to myself, behind the crane. + +I paid the fust five bob to George Tebb the next time the ship was up, +and arter biting ’em over and over agin and then ringing ’em on the +deck ’e took the other chaps round to the Bear’s Head. + +“P’r’aps it’s just as well it’s ’appened,” he ses. “Five bob a week for +nearly two years ain’t to be sneezed at. It’s slow, but it’s sure.” + +I thought ’e was joking at fust, but arter working it out in the office +with a bit o’ pencil and paper I thought I should ha’ gorn crazy. And +when I complained about the time to George ’e said I could make it +shorter if I liked by paying ten bob a week, but ’e thought the steady +five bob a week was best for both of us. + +I got to ’ate the sight of ’im. Every week regular as clockwork he used +to come round to me with his ’and out, and then go and treat ’is mates +to beer with my money. If the ship came up in the day-time, at six +o’clock in the evening he’d be at the wharf gate waiting for me; and if +it came up at night she was no sooner made fast than ’e was over the +side patting my trouser-pocket and saying wot a good job it was for +both of us that I was in steady employment. + +Week arter week and month arter month I went on paying. I a’most forgot +the taste o’ beer, and if I could manage to get a screw o’ baccy a week +I thought myself lucky. And at last, just as I thought I couldn’t stand +it any longer, the end came. + +I ’ad just given George ’is week’s money—and ’ow I got it together that +week I don’t know—when one o’ the chaps came up and said the skipper +wanted to see me on board at once. + +“Tell ’im if he wants to see me I’m to be found on the wharf,” I ses, +very sharp. + +“He wants to see you about George’s money,” ses the chap. “I should go +if I was you. My opinion is he wants to do you a good turn.” + +I ’ung fire for a bit, and then, arter sweeping up for a little while +deliberate-like, I put down my broom and stepped aboard to see the +skipper, wot was sitting on the cabin skylight purtending to read a +newspaper. + +He put it down when ’e see me, and George and the others, wot ’ad been +standing in a little bunch for’ard, came aft and stood looking on. + +“I wanted to see you about this money, watchman,” ses the skipper, +putting on ’is beastly frills agin. “O’ course, we all feel that to a +pore man like you it’s a bit of a strain, and, as George ses, arter all +you have been more foolish than wicked.” + +“Much more,” ses George. + +“I find that you ’ave now paid five bob a week for nineteen weeks,” ses +the skipper, “and George ’as been kind enough and generous enough to +let you off the rest. There’s no need for you to look bashful, George; +it’s a credit to you.” + +I could ’ardly believe my ears. George stood there grinning like a +stuck fool, and two o’ the chaps was on their best behaviour with their +’ands over their mouths and their eyes sticking out. + +“That’s all, watchman,” ses the skipper; “and I ’ope it’ll be a lesson +to you not to neglect your dooty by going into public-’ouses and taking +charge of other people’s money when you ain’t fit for it.” + +“I sha’n’t try to do anybody else a kindness agin, if that’s wot you +mean,” I ses, looking at ’im. + +“No, you’d better not,” he ses. “This partickler bit o’ kindness ’as +cost you four pounds fifteen, and that’s a curious thing when you come +to think of it. Very curious.” + +“Wot d’ye mean?” I ses. + +“Why,” he ses, grinning like a madman, “it’s just wot we lost between +us. I lost a watch and chain worth two pounds, and another couple o’ +pounds besides; Joe lost ten shillings over ’is di’mond ring; and +Charlie lost five bob over a pipe. ‘That’s four pounds fifteen—just the +same as you.” + +Them silly fools stood there choking and sobbing and patting each other +on the back as though they’d never leave off, and all of a sudden I ’ad +a ’orrible suspicion that I ’ad been done. + +“Did you see the sovereigns in the box?” I ses, turning to the skipper. + +“No,” he ses, shaking his ’ead. + +“’Ow do you know they was there, then?” ses I. + +“Because you took charge of ’em,” said the skipper; “and I know wot a +clever, sharp chap you are. It stands to reason that you wouldn’t be +responsible for a box like that unless you saw inside of it. Why, a +child o’ five wouldn’t!” + +I stood there looking at ’im, but he couldn’t meet my eye. None of ’em +could; and arter waiting there for a minute or two to give ’em a +chance, I turned my back on ’em and went off to my dooty. + + + + +MADE TO MEASURE + + +Mr. Mott brought his niece home from the station with considerable +pride. Although he had received a photograph to assist identification, +he had been very dubious about accosting the pretty, well-dressed girl +who had stepped from the train and gazed around with dove-like eyes in +search of him. Now he was comfortably conscious of the admiring gaze of +his younger fellow-townsmen. + +“You’ll find it a bit dull after London, I expect,” he remarked, as he +inserted his key in the door of a small house in a quiet street. + +“I’m tired of London,” said Miss Garland. “I think this is a beautiful +little old town—so peaceful.” + +Mr. Mott looked gratified. + +“I hope you’ll stay a long time,” he said, as he led the way into the +small front room. “I’m a lonely old man.” + +His niece sank into an easy chair, and looked about her. + +“Thank you,” she said, slowly. “I hope I shall. I feel better already. +There is so much to upset one in London.” + +“Noise?” queried Mr. Mott. + +“And other things,” said Miss Garland, with a slight shudder. + +Mr. Mott sighed in sympathy with the unknown, and, judging by his +niece’s expression, the unknowable. He rearranged the teacups, and, +going to the kitchen, returned in a few minutes with a pot of tea. + +“Mrs. Pett leaves at three,” he said, in explanation, “to look after +her children, but she comes back again at eight to look after my +supper. And how is your mother?” + +Miss Garland told him. + +“Last letter I had from her,” said Mr. Mott, stealing a glance at the +girl’s ring-finger, “I understood you were engaged.” + +His niece drew herself up. + +“Certainly not,” she said, with considerable vigour. “I have seen too +much of married life. I prefer my freedom. Besides, I don’t like men.” + +Mr. Mott said modestly that he didn’t wonder at it, and, finding the +subject uncongenial, turned the conversation on to worthier subjects. +Miss Garland’s taste, it seemed, lay in the direction of hospital +nursing, or some other occupation beneficial to mankind at large. +Simple and demure, she filled the simpler Mr. Mott with a strong sense +of the shortcomings of his unworthy sex. + +Within two days, under the darkling glance of Mrs. Pett, she had +altered the arrangements of the house. Flowers appeared on the +meal-table, knives and forks were properly cleaned, and plates no +longer appeared ornamented with the mustard of a previous meal. Fresh +air circulated through the house, and, passing from Mrs. Pett’s left +knee to the lumbar region of Mr. Mott, went on its beneficent way +rejoicing. + +On the fifth day of her visit, Mr. Mott sat alone in the front parlour. +The window was closed, the door was closed, and Mr. Mott, sitting in an +easy chair with his feet up, was aroused from a sound nap by the door +opening to admit a young man, who, deserted by Mrs. Pett, stood bowing +awkwardly in the doorway. + +“Is Miss Garland in?” he stammered. + +Mr. Mott rubbed the remnants of sleep from his eyelids. + +“She has gone for a walk,” he said, slowly. + +The young man stood fingering his hat. + +“My name is Hurst,” he said, with slight emphasis. “Mr. Alfred Hurst.” + +Mr. Mott, still somewhat confused, murmured that he was glad to hear +it. + +“I have come from London to see Florrie,” continued the intruder. “I +suppose she won’t be long?” + +Mr. Mott thought not, and after a moment’s hesitation invited Mr. Hurst +to take a chair. + +“I suppose she told you we are engaged?” said the latter. + +“Engaged!” said the startled Mr. Mott. “Why, she told me she didn’t +like men.” + +“Playfulness,” replied Mr. Hurst, with an odd look. “Ah, here she is!” + +The handle of the front door turned, and a moment later the door of the +room was opened and the charming head of Miss Garland appeared in the +opening. + +“Back again,” she said, brightly. “I’ve just been——” + +She caught sight of Mr. Hurst, and the words died away on her lips. The +door slammed, and the two gentlemen, exchanging glances, heard a +hurried rush upstairs and the slamming of another door. Also a key was +heard to turn sharply in a lock. + +“She doesn’t want to see you,” said Mr. Mott, staring. + +The young man turned pale. + +“Perhaps she has gone upstairs to take her things off,” he muttered, +resuming his seat. “Don’t—don’t hurry her!” + +“I wasn’t going to,” said Mr. Mott. + +He twisted his beard uneasily, and at the end of ten minutes looked +from the clock to Mr. Hurst and coughed. + +“If you wouldn’t mind letting her know I’m waiting,” said the young +man, brokenly. + +Mr. Mott rose, and went slowly upstairs. More slowly still, after an +interval of a few minutes, he came back again. + +“She doesn’t want to see you,” he said, slowly. + +Mr. Hurst gasped. + +“I—I must see her,” he faltered. + +“She won’t see you,” repeated Mr. Mott. “And she told me to say she was +surprised at you following her down here.” + +Mr. Hurst uttered a faint moan, and with bent head passed into the +little passage and out into the street, leaving Mr. Mott to return to +the sitting-room and listen to such explanations as Miss Garland deemed +advisable. Great goodness of heart in the face of persistent and +unwelcome attentions appeared to be responsible for the late +engagement. + +“Well, it’s over now,” said her uncle, kindly, “and no doubt he’ll soon +find somebody else. There are plenty of girls would jump at him, I +expect.” + +Miss Garland shook her head. + +“He said he couldn’t live without me,” she remarked, soberly. + +Mr. Mott laughed. + +“In less than three months I expect he’ll be congratulating himself,” +he said, cheerfully. “Why, I was nearly cau—married, four times. It’s a +silly age.” + +His niece said “Indeed!” and, informing him in somewhat hostile tones +that she was suffering from a severe headache, retired to her room. + +Mr. Mott spent the evening by himself, and retiring to bed at +ten-thirty was awakened by a persistent knocking at the front door at +half-past one. Half awakened, he lit a candle, and, stumbling +downstairs, drew back the bolt of the door, and stood gaping angrily at +the pathetic features of Mr. Hurst. + +“Sorry to disturb you,” said the young man, “but would you mind giving +this letter to Miss Garland?” + +“Sorry to disturb me!” stuttered Mr. Mott. “What do you mean by it? Eh? +What do you mean by it?” + +“It is important,” said Mr. Hurst. “I can’t rest. I’ve eaten nothing +all day.” + +“Glad to hear it,” snapped the irritated Mr. Mott. + +“If you will give her that letter, I shall feel easier,” said Mr. +Hurst. + +“I’ll give it to her in the morning,” said the other, snatching it from +him. “Now get off.” + +Mr. Hurst still murmuring apologies, went, and Mr. Mott, also +murmuring, returned to bed. The night was chilly, and it was some time +before he could get to sleep again. He succeeded at last, only to be +awakened an hour later by a knocking more violent than before. In a +state of mind bordering upon frenzy, he dived into his trousers again +and went blundering downstairs in the dark. + +“Sorry to—” began Mr. Hurst. + +Mr. Mott made uncouth noises at him. + +“I have altered my mind,” said the young man. “Would you mind letting +me have that letter back again? It was too final.” + +“You—get—off!” said the other, trembling with cold and passion. + +“I must have that letter,” said Mr. Hurst, doggedly. “All my future +happiness may depend upon it.” + +Mr. Mott, afraid to trust himself with speech, dashed upstairs, and +after a search for the matches found the letter, and, returning to the +front door, shut it on the visitor’s thanks. His niece’s door opened as +he passed it, and a gentle voice asked for enlightenment. + +“How silly of him!” she said, softly. “I hope he won’t catch cold. What +did you say?” + +“I was coughing,” said Mr. Mott, hastily. + +“You’ll get cold if you’re not careful,” said his thoughtful niece. +“That’s the worst of men, they never seem to have any thought. Did he +seem angry, or mournful, or what? I suppose you couldn’t see his face?” + +“I didn’t try,” said Mr. Mott, crisply. “Good night.” + +By the morning his ill-humour had vanished, and he even became slightly +facetious over the events of the night. The mood passed at the same +moment that Mr. Hurst passed the window. + +“Better have him in and get it over,” he said, irritably. + +Miss Garland shuddered. + +“Never!” she said, firmly. “He’d be down on his knees. It would be too +painful. You don’t know him.” + +“Don’t want to,” said Mr. Mott. + +He finished his breakfast in silence, and, after a digestive pipe, +proposed a walk. The profile of Mr. Hurst, as it went forlornly past +the window again, served to illustrate Miss Garland’s refusal. + +“I’ll go out and see him,” said Mr. Mott, starting up. “Are you going +to be a prisoner here until this young idiot chooses to go home? It’s +preposterous!” + +He crammed his hat on firmly and set out in pursuit of Mr. Hurst, who +was walking slowly up the street, glancing over his shoulder. +“Morning!” said Mr. Mott, fiercely. “Good morning,” said the other. + +“Now, look here,” said Mr. Mott. “This has gone far enough, and I won’t +have any more of it. Why, you ought to be ashamed of yourself, +chivvying a young lady that doesn’t want you. Haven’t you got any +pride?” + +“No,” said the young man, “not where she is concerned.” + +“I don’t believe you have,” said the other, regarding him, “and I +expect that’s where the trouble is. Did she ever have reason to think +you were looking after any other girls?” + +“Never, I swear it,” said Mr. Hurst, eagerly. + +“Just so,” said Mr. Mott, with a satisfied nod. “That’s where you made +a mistake. She was too sure of you; it was too easy. No excitement. +Girls like a man that other girls want; they don’t want a turtle-dove +in fancy trousers.” + +Mr. Hurst coughed. + +“And they like a determined man,” continued Miss Garland’s uncle. “Why, +in my young days, if I had been jilted, and come down to see about it, +d’you think I’d have gone out of the house without seeing her? I might +have been put out—by half-a-dozen—but I’d have taken the mantelpiece +and a few other things with me. And you are bigger than I am.” + +“We aren’t all made the same,” said Mr. Hurst, feebly. + +“No, we’re not,” said Mr. Mott. “I’m not blaming you; in a way, I’m +sorry for you. If you’re not born with a high spirit, nothing’ll give +it to you.” + +“It might be learnt,” said Mr. Hurst. Mr. Mott laughed. + +“High spirits are born, not made,” he said. “The best thing you can do +is to go and find another girl, and marry her before she finds you +out.” + +Mr. Hurst shook his head. + +“There’s no other girl for me,” he said, miserably. “And everything +seemed to be going so well. We’ve been buying things for the house for +the last six months, and I’ve just got a good rise in my screw.” + +“It’ll do for another girl,” said Mr. Mott, briskly. “Now, you get off +back to town. You are worrying Florrie by staying here, and you are +doing no good to anybody. Good-bye.” + +“I’ll walk back as far as the door with you,” said Mr. Hurst. “You’ve +done me good. It’s a pity I didn’t meet you before.” + +“Remember what I’ve told you, and you’ll do well yet,” he said, patting +the young man on the arm. + +“I will,” said Mr. Hurst, and walked on by his side, deep in thought. + +“I can’t ask you in,” said Mr. Mott, jocularly, as he reached his door, +and turned the key in the lock. “Good-bye.” + +“Good-bye,” said Mr. Hurst. + +He grasped the other’s outstretched hand, and with a violent jerk +pulled him into the street. Then he pushed open the door, and, slipping +into the passage, passed hastily into the front room, closely followed +by the infuriated Mr. Mott. + +“What—what—what!” stammered that gentleman. + +“I’m taking your tip,” said Mr. Hurst, pale but determined. “I’m going +to stay here until I have seen Florrie.” + +“You—you’re a serpent,” said Mr. Mott, struggling for breath. “I—I’m +surprised at you. You go out before you get hurt.” + +“Not without the mantelpiece,” said Mr. Hurst, with a distorted grin. + +“A viper!” said Mr. Mott, with extreme bitterness. “If you are not out +in two minutes I’ll send for the police.” + +“Florrie wouldn’t like that,” said Mr. Hurst. “She’s awfully particular +about what people think. You just trot upstairs and tell her that a +gentleman wants to see her.” + +He threw himself into Mr. Mott’s own particular easy chair, and, +crossing his knees, turned a deaf ear to the threats of that incensed +gentleman. Not until the latter had left the room did his features +reveal the timorousness of the soul within. Muffled voices sounded from +upstairs, and it was evident that an argument of considerable length +was in progress. It was also evident from the return of Mr. Mott alone +that his niece had had the best of it. + +“I’ve done all I could,” he said, “but she declines to see you. She +says she won’t see you if you stay here for a month, and you couldn’t +do that, you know.” + +“Why not?” inquired Mr. Hurst. + +“Why not?” repeated Mr. Mott, repressing his feelings with some +difficulty. “Food!” + +Mr. Hurst started. + +“And drink,” said Mr. Mott, following up his advantage. “There’s no +good in starving yourself for nothing, so you may as well go.” + +“When I’ve seen Florrie,” said the young man, firmly. + +Mr. Mott slammed the door, and for the rest of the day Mr. Hurst saw +him no more. At one o’clock a savoury smell passed the door on its way +upstairs, and at five o’clock a middle-aged woman with an inane smile +looked into the room on her way aloft with a loaded tea-tray. By +supper-time he was suffering considerably from hunger and thirst. + +At ten o’clock he heard the footsteps of Mr. Mott descending the +stairs. The door opened an inch, and a gruff voice demanded to know +whether he was going to stay there all night. Receiving a cheerful +reply in the affirmative, Mr. Mott secured the front door with +considerable violence, and went off to bed without another word. + +He was awakened an hour or two later by the sound of something falling, +and, sitting up in bed to listen, became aware of a warm and agreeable +odour. It was somewhere about the hour of midnight, but a breakfast +smell of eggs and bacon would not be denied. + +He put on some clothes and went downstairs. A crack of light showed +under the kitchen door, and, pushing it open with some force, he gazed +spellbound at the spectacle before him. + +“Come in,” said Mr. Hurst, heartily. “I’ve just finished.” + +He rocked an empty beer-bottle and patted another that was half full. +Satiety was written on his face as he pushed an empty plate from him, +and, leaning back in his chair, smiled lazily at Mr. Mott. + +“Go on,” said that gentleman, hoarsely. Mr. Hurst shook his head. + +“Enough is as good as a feast,” he said, reasonably. “I’ll have some +more to-morrow.” + +“Oh, will you?” said the other. “Will you?” + +Mr. Hurst nodded, and, opening his coat, disclosed a bottle of beer in +each breast-pocket. The other pockets, it appeared, contained food. + +“And here’s the money for it,” he said, putting down some silver on the +table. “I am determined, but honest.” + +With a sweep of his hand, Mr. Mott sent the money flying. + +“To-morrow morning I send for the police. Mind that!” he roared. + +“I’d better have my breakfast early, then,” said Mr. Hurst, tapping his +pockets. “Good night. And thank you for your advice.” + +He sat for some time after the disappearance of his host, and then, +returning to the front room, placed a chair at the end of the sofa and, +with the tablecloth for a quilt, managed to secure a few hours’ +troubled sleep. At eight o’clock he washed at the scullery sink, and at +ten o’clock Mr. Mott, with an air of great determination, came in to +deliver his ultimatum. + +“If you’re not outside the front door in five minutes, I’m going to +fetch the police,” he said, fiercely. + +“I want to see Florrie,” said the other. + +“Well, you won’t see her,” shouted Mr. Mott. + +Mr. Hurst stood feeling his chin. + +“Well, would you mind taking a message for me?” he asked. “I just want +you to ask her whether I am really free. Ask her whether I am free to +marry again.” + +Mr. Mott eyed him in amazement. + +“You see, I only heard from her mother,” pursued Mr. Hurst, “and a +friend of mine who is in a solicitor’s office says that isn’t good +enough. I only came down here to make sure, and I think the least she +can do is to tell me herself. If she won’t see me, perhaps she’d put it +in writing. You see, there’s another lady.” + +“But!” said the mystified Mr. Mott. + +“You told me——” + +“You tell her that,” said the other. + +Mr. Mott stood for a few seconds staring at him, and then without a +word turned on his heel and went upstairs. Left to himself, Mr. Hurst +walked nervously up and down the room, and, catching sight of his face +in the old-fashioned glass on the mantel-piece, heightened its colour +by a few pinches. The minutes seemed inter-minable, but at last he +heard the steps of Mr. Mott on the stairs again. + +“She’s coming down to see you herself,” said the latter, solemnly. + +Mr. Hurst nodded, and, turning to the window, tried in vain to take an +interest in passing events. A light step sounded on the stairs, the +door creaked, and he turned to find himself con-fronted by Miss +Garland. + +“Uncle told me!” she began, coldly. Mr. Hurst bowed. + +“I am sorry to have caused you so much trouble,” he said, trying to +control his voice, “but you see my position, don’t you?” + +“No,” said the girl. + +“Well, I wanted to make sure,” said Mr. Hurst. “It’s best for all of +us, isn’t it? Best for you, best for me, and, of course, for my young +lady.” + +“You never said anything about her before,” said Miss Garland, her eyes +darkening. + +“Of course not,” said Mr. Hurst. “How could I? I was engaged to you, +and then she wasn’t my young lady; but, of course, as soon as you broke +it off—” + +“Who is she?” inquired Miss Garland, in a casual voice. + +“You don’t know her,” said Mr. Hurst. + +“What is she like?” + +“I can’t describe her very well,” said Mr. Hurst. “I can only say she’s +the most beautiful girl I have ever seen. I think that’s what made me +take to her. And she’s easily pleased. She liked the things I have been +buying for the house tremendously.” + +“Did she?” said Miss Garland, with a gasp. + +“All except that pair of vases you chose,” continued the veracious Mr. +Hurst. “She says they are in bad taste, but she can give them to the +charwoman.” + +“Oh!” said the girl. “Oh, indeed! Very kind of her. Isn’t there +anything else she doesn’t like?” + +Mr. Hurst stood considering. + +“She doesn’t like the upholstering of the best chairs,” he said at +last. “She thinks they are too showy, so she’s going to put covers over +them.” + +There was a long pause, during which Mr. Mott, taking his niece gently +by the arm, assisted her to a chair. + +“Otherwise she is quite satisfied,” concluded Mr. Hurst. + +Miss Garland took a deep breath, but made no reply. + +“I have got to satisfy her that I am free,” said the young man, after +another pause. “I suppose that I can do so?” + +“I—I’ll think it over,” said Miss Garland, in a low voice. “I am not +sure what is the right thing to do. I don’t want to see you made +miserable for life. It’s nothing to me, of course, but still—” + +She got up and, shaking off the proffered assistance of her uncle, went +slowly and languidly up to her room. Mr. Mott followed her as far as +the door, and then turned indignantly upon Mr. Hurst. + +“You—you’ve broke her heart,” he said, solemnly. + +“That’s all right,” said Mr. Hurst, with a delighted wink. “I’ll mend +it again.” + + + + +SAM’S GHOST + + +Yes, I know, said the night-watchman, thoughtfully, as he sat with a +cold pipe in his mouth gazing across the river. I’ve ’eard it afore. +People tell me they don’t believe in ghosts and make a laugh of ’em, +and all I say is: let them take on a night-watchman’s job. Let ’em sit +’ere all alone of a night with the water lapping against the posts and +the wind moaning in the corners; especially if a pal of theirs has +slipped overboard, and there is little nasty bills stuck up just +outside in the High Street offering a reward for the body. Twice men +’ave fallen overboard from this jetty, and I’ve ’ad to stand my watch +here the same night, and not a farthing more for it. + +One of the worst and artfullest ghosts I ever ’ad anything to do with +was Sam Bullet. He was a waterman at the stairs near by ’ere; the sort +o’ man that ’ud get you to pay for drinks, and drink yours up by +mistake arter he ’ad finished his own. The sort of man that ’ad always +left his baccy-box at ’ome, but always ’ad a big pipe in ’is pocket. + +He fell overboard off of a lighter one evening, and all that his mates +could save was ’is cap. It was on’y two nights afore that he ’ad +knocked down an old man and bit a policeman’s little finger to the +bone, so that, as they pointed out to the widder, p’r’aps he was taken +for a wise purpose. P’r’aps he was ’appier where he was than doing six +months. + +“He was the sort o’ chap that’ll make himself ’appy anywhere,” ses one +of ’em, comforting-like. + +“Not without me,” ses Mrs. Bullet, sobbing, and wiping her eyes on +something she used for a pocket-hankercher. “He never could bear to be +away from me. Was there no last words?” + +“On’y one,” ses one o’ the chaps, Joe Peel by name. + +“As ’e fell overboard,” ses the other. + +Mrs. Bullet began to cry agin, and say wot a good ’usband he ’ad been. +“Seventeen years come Michaelmas,” she ses, “and never a cross word. +Nothing was too good for me. Nothing. I ’ad only to ask to ’ave.” + +“Well, he’s gorn now,” ses Joe, “and we thought we ought to come round +and tell you.” + +“So as you can tell the police,” ses the other chap. + +That was ’ow I came to hear of it fust; a policeman told me that night +as I stood outside the gate ’aving a quiet pipe. He wasn’t shedding +tears; his only idea was that Sam ’ad got off too easy. + +“Well, well,” I ses, trying to pacify ’im, “he won’t bite no more +fingers; there’s no policemen where he’s gorn to.” + +He went off grumbling and telling me to be careful, and I put my pipe +out and walked up and down the wharf thinking. On’y a month afore I ’ad +lent Sam fifteen shillings on a gold watch and chain wot he said an +uncle ’ad left ’im. I wasn’t wearing it because ’e said ’is uncle +wouldn’t like it, but I ’ad it in my pocket, and I took it out under +one of the lamps and wondered wot I ought to do. + +My fust idea was to take it to Mrs. Bullet, and then, all of a sudden, +the thought struck me: “Suppose he ’adn’t come by it honest?” + +I walked up and down agin, thinking. If he ’adn’t, and it was found +out, it would blacken his good name and break ’is pore wife’s ’art. +That’s the way I looked at it, and for his sake and ’er sake I +determined to stick to it. + +I felt ’appier in my mind when I ’ad decided on that, and I went round +to the Bear’s Head and ’ad a pint. Arter that I ’ad another, and then I +come back to the wharf and put the watch and chain on and went on with +my work. + +Every time I looked down at the chain on my waistcoat it reminded me of +Sam. I looked on to the river and thought of ’im going down on the ebb. +Then I got a sort o’ lonesome feeling standing on the end of the jetty +all alone, and I went back to the Bear’s Head and ’ad another pint. + +They didn’t find the body, and I was a’most forgetting about Sam when +one evening, as I was sitting on a box waiting to get my breath back to +’ave another go at sweeping, Joe Peel, Sam’s mate, came on to the wharf +to see me. + +He came in a mysterious sort o’ way that I didn’t like: looking be’ind +’im as though he was afraid of being follered, and speaking in a +whisper as if ’e was afraid of being heard. He wasn’t a man I liked, +and I was glad that the watch and chain was stowed safe away in my +trowsis-pocket. + +“I’ve ’ad a shock, watchman,” he ses. + +“Oh!” I ses. + +“A shock wot’s shook me all up,” he ses, working up a shiver. “I’ve +seen something wot I thought people never could see, and wot I never +want to see agin. I’ve seen Sam!” + +I thought a bit afore I spoke. “Why, I thought he was drownded,” I ses. + +“So ’e is,” ses Joe. “When I say I’ve seen ’im I mean that I ’ave seen +his ghost!” + +He began to shiver agin, all over. + +“Wot was it like?” I ses, very calm. + +“Like Sam,” he ses, rather short. + +“When was it?” I ses. + +“Last night at a quarter to twelve,” he ses. “It was standing at my +front door waiting for me.” + +“And ’ave you been shivering like that ever since?” I ses. + +“Worse than that,” ses Joe, looking at me very ’ard. “It’s wearing off +now. The ghost gave me a message for you.” + +I put my ’and in my trowsis-pocket and looked at ’im. Then I walked +very slow, towards the gate. + +“It gave me a message for you,” ses Joe, walking beside me. “‘We was +always pals, Joe,’” it ses, “‘you and me, and I want you to pay up +fifteen bob for me wot I borrowed off of Bill the watchman. I can’t +rest until it’s paid,’ it ses. So here’s the fifteen bob, watchman.” + +He put his ’and in ’is pocket and takes out fifteen bob and ’olds it +out to me. + +“No, no,” I ses. “I can’t take your money, Joe Peel. It wouldn’t be +right. Pore Sam is welcome to the fifteen bob—I don’t want it.” + +“You must take it,” ses Joe. “The ghost said if you didn’t it would +come to me agin and agin till you did, and I can’t stand any more of +it.” + +“I can’t ’elp your troubles,” I ses. + +“You must,” ses Joe. “‘Give Bill the fifteen bob,’ it ses, ‘and he’ll +give you a gold watch and chain wot I gave ’im to mind till it was +paid.’” + +I see his little game then. “Gold watch and chain,” I ses, laughing. +“You must ha’ misunderstood it, Joe.” + +“I understood it right enough,” ses Joe, getting a bit closer to me as +I stepped outside the gate. “Here’s your fifteen bob; are you going to +give me that watch and chain?” + +“Sartainly not,” I ses. “I don’t know wot you mean by a watch and +chain. If I ’ad it and I gave it to anybody, I should give it to Sam’s +widder, not to you.” + +“It’s nothing to do with ’er,” ses Joe, very quick. “Sam was most +pertikler about that.” + +“I expect you dreamt it all,” I ses. “Where would pore Sam get a gold +watch and chain from? And why should ’e go to you about it? Why didn’t +’e come to me? If ’e thinks I ’ave got it let ’im come to me.” + +“All right, I’ll go to the police-station,” ses Joe. + +“I’ll come with you,” I ses. “But ’ere’s a policeman coming along. +Let’s go to ’im.” + +I moved towards ’im, but Joe hung back, and, arter using one or two +words that would ha’ made any ghost ashamed to know ’im, he sheered +off. I ’ad a word or two with the policeman about the weather, and then +I went inside and locked the gate. + +My idea was that Sam ’ad told Joe about the watch and chain afore he +fell overboard. Joe was a nasty customer, and I could see that I should +’ave to be a bit careful. Some men might ha’ told the police about +it—but I never cared much for them. They’re like kids in a way, always +asking questions—most of which you can’t answer. + +It was a little bit creepy all alone on the wharf that night. I don’t +deny it. Twice I thought I ’eard something coming up on tip-toe behind +me. The second time I was so nervous that I began to sing to keep my +spirits up, and I went on singing till three of the hands of the Susan +Emily, wot was lying alongside, came up from the fo’c’sle and offered +to fight me. I was thankful when daylight came. + +Five nights arterwards I ’ad the shock of my life. It was the fust +night for some time that there was no craft up. A dark night, and a +nasty moaning sort of a wind. I ’ad just lighted the lamp at the corner +of the warehouse, wot ’ad blown out, and was sitting down to rest afore +putting the ladder away, when I ’appened to look along the jetty and +saw a head coming up over the edge of it. In the light of the lamp I +saw the dead white face of Sam Bullet’s ghost making faces at me. + +[Illustration: In the light of the lamp I saw the dead white face of +Sam Bullet’s ghost making faces at me.] + +I just caught my breath, sharp like, and then turned and ran for the +gate like a race-horse. I ’ad left the key in the padlock, in case of +anything happening, and I just gave it one turn, flung the wicket open +and slammed it in the ghost’s face, and tumbled out into the road. + +I ran slap into the arms of a young policeman wot was passing. Nasty, +short-tempered chap he was, but I don’t think I was more glad to see +anybody in my life. I hugged ’im till ’e nearly lost ’is breath, and +then he sat me down on the kerb-stone and asked me wot I meant by it. + +Wot with the excitement and the running I couldn’t speak at fust, and +when I did he said I was trying to deceive ’im. + +“There ain’t no such thing as ghosts,” he ses; “you’ve been drinking.” + +“It came up out o’ the river and run arter me like the wind,” I ses. + +“Why didn’t it catch you, then?” he ses, looking me up and down and all +round about. “Talk sense.” + +He went up to the gate and peeped in, and, arter watching a moment, +stepped inside and walked down the wharf, with me follering. It was my +dooty; besides, I didn’t like being left all alone by myself. + +Twice we walked up and down and all over the wharf. He flashed his +lantern into all the dark corners, into empty barrels and boxes, and +then he turned and flashed it right into my face and shook his ’ead at +me. + +“You’ve been having a bit of a lark with me,” he ses, “and for two pins +I’d take you. Mind, if you say a word about this to anybody, I will.” + +He stalked off with his ’ead in the air, and left me all alone in +charge of a wharf with a ghost on it. I stayed outside in the street, +of course, but every now and then I fancied I heard something moving +about the other side of the gate, and once it was so distinct that I +run along to the Bear’s Head and knocked ’em up and asked them for a +little brandy, for illness. + +I didn’t get it, of course; I didn’t expect to; but I ’ad a little +conversation with the landlord from ’is bedroom-winder that did me more +good than the brandy would ha’ done. Once or twice I thought he would +’ave fallen out, and many a man has ’ad his licence taken away for less +than a quarter of wot ’e said to me that night. Arter he thought he ’ad +finished and was going back to bed agin, I pointed’ out to ’im that he +’adn’t kissed me “good night,” and if it ’adn’t ha’ been for ’is missis +and two grown-up daughters and the potman I believe he’d ha’ talked to +me till daylight. + +’Ow I got through the rest of the night I don’t know. It seemed to be +twenty nights instead of one, but the day came at last, and when the +hands came on at six o’clock they found the gate open and me on dooty +same as usual. + +I slept like a tired child when I got ’ome, and arter a steak and +onions for dinner I sat down and lit my pipe and tried to think wot was +to be done. One thing I was quite certain about: I wasn’t going to +spend another night on that wharf alone. + +I went out arter a bit, as far as the Clarendon Arms, for a breath of +fresh air, and I ’ad just finished a pint and was wondering whether I +ought to ’ave another, when Ted Dennis came in, and my mind was made +up. He ’ad been in the Army all ’is life, and, so far, he ’ad never +seen anything that ’ad frightened ’im. I’ve seen him myself take on men +twice ’is size just for the love of the thing, and, arter knocking them +silly, stand ’em a pint out of ’is own pocket. When I asked ’im whether +he was afraid of ghosts he laughed so ’ard that the landlord came from +the other end of the bar to see wot was the matter. + +I stood Ted a pint, and arter he ’ad finished it I told ’im just how +things was. I didn’t say anything about the watch and chain, because +there was no need to, and when we came outside agin I ’ad engaged an +assistant-watchman for ninepence a night. + +“All you’ve got to do,” I ses, “is to keep me company. You needn’t turn +up till eight o’clock of a night, and you can leave ’arf an hour afore +me in the morning.” + +“Right-o!” ses Ted. “And if I see the ghost I’ll make it wish it ’ad +never been born.” + +It was a load off my mind, and I went ’ome and ate a tea that made my +missis talk about the work-’ouse, and orstritches in ’uman shape wot +would eat a woman out of ’ouse and ’ome if she would let ’em. + +I got to the wharf just as it was striking six, and at a quarter to +seven the wicket was pushed open gentle and the ugly ’ead of Mr. Joe +Peel was shoved inside. + +“Hullo!” I ses. “Wot do you want?” + +“I want to save your life,” he ses, in a solemn voice. “You was within +a inch of death last night, watchman.” + +“Oh!” I ses, careless-like. “’Ow do you know!” + +“The ghost o’ Sam Bullet told me,” ses Joe. “Arter it ’ad chased you up +the wharf screaming for ’elp, it came round and told me all about it.” + +“It seems fond of you,” I ses. “I wonder why?” + +“It was in a terrible temper,” ses Joe, “and its face was awful to look +at. ‘Tell the watchman,’ it ses, ‘that if he don’t give you the watch +and chain I shall appear to ’im agin and kill ’im.’” + +“All right,” I ses, looking behind me to where three of the ’ands of +the Daisy was sitting on the fo’c’sle smoking. “I’ve got plenty of +company to-night.” + +“Company won’t save you,” ses Joe. “For the last time, are you going to +give me that watch and chain, or not? Here’s your fifteen bob.” + +“No,” I ses; “even if I ’ad got it I shouldn’t give it to you; and it’s +no use giving’ it to the ghost, because, being made of air, he ’asn’t +got anywhere to put it.” + +“Very good,” ses Joe, giving me a black look. “I’ve done all I can to +save you, but if you won’t listen to sense, you won’t. You’ll see Sam +Bullet agin, and you’ll not on’y lose the watch and chain but your life +as well.” + +“All right,” I ses, “and thank you kindly, but I’ve got an assistant, +as it ’appens—a man wot wants to see a ghost.” + +“An’ assistant?” ses Joe, staring. + +“An old soldier,” I ses. “A man wot likes trouble and danger. His idea +is to shoot the ghost and see wot ’appens.” + +“Shoot!” ses Joe. “Shoot a pore ’armless ghost. Does he want to be +’ung? Ain’t it enough for a pore man to be drownded, but wot you must +try and shoot ’im arterwards? Why, you ought to be ashamed o’ yourself. +Where’s your ’art?” + +“It won’t be shot if it don’t come on my wharf,” I ses. “Though I don’t +mind if it does when I’ve got somebody with me. I ain’t afraid of +anything living, and I don’t mind ghosts when there’s two of us. +Besides which, the noise of the pistol ’ll wake up ’arf the river.” + +“You take care you don’t get woke up,” ses Joe, ’ardly able to speak +for temper. + +He went off stamping, and grinding ’is teeth, and at eight o’clock to +the minute, Ted Dennis turned up with ’is pistol and helped me take +care of the wharf. Happy as a skylark ’e was, and to see him ’iding +behind a barrel with his pistol ready, waiting for the ghost, a’most +made me forget the expense of it all. + +It never came near us that night, and Ted was a bit disappointed next +morning as he took ’is ninepence and went off. Next night was the same, +and the next, and then Ted gave up hiding on the wharf for it, and sat +and snoozed in the office instead. + +A week went by, and then another, and still there was no sign of Sam +Bullet’s ghost, or Joe Peel, and every morning I ’ad to try and work up +a smile as I shelled out ninepence for Ted. It nearly ruined me, and, +worse than that, I couldn’t explain why I was short to the missis. Fust +of all she asked me wot I was spending it on, then she asked me who I +was spending it on. It nearly broke up my ’ome—she did smash one +kitchen-chair and a vase off the parlour mantelpiece—but I wouldn’t +tell ’er, and then, led away by some men on strike at Smith’s wharf, +Ted went on strike for a bob a night. + +That was arter he ’ad been with me for three weeks, and when Saturday +came, of course I was more short than ever, and people came and stood +at their doors all the way down our street to listen to the missis +taking my character away. + +I stood it as long as I could, and then, when ’er back was turned for +’arf a moment, I slipped out. While she’d been talking I’d been +thinking, and it came to me clear as daylight that there was no need +for me to sacrifice myself any longer looking arter a dead man’s watch +and chain. + +I didn’t know exactly where Joe Peel lived, but I knew the part, and +arter peeping into seven public-’ouses I see the man I wanted sitting +by ’imself in a little bar. I walked in quiet-like, and sat down +opposite ’im. + +“Morning,” I ses. + +Joe Peel grunted. + +“’Ave one with me?” I ses. + +He grunted agin, but not quite so fierce, and I fetched the two pints +from the counter and took a seat alongside of ’im. + +“I’ve been looking for you,” I ses. + +“Oh!” he ses, looking me up and down and all over. “Well, you’ve found +me now.” + +“I want to talk to you about the ghost of pore Sam Bullet,” I ses. + +Joe Peel put ’is mug down sudden and looked at me fierce. “Look ’ere! +Don’t you come and try to be funny with me,” he ses. “’Cos I won’t ’ave +it.” + +“I don’t want to be funny,” I ses. “Wot I want to know is, are you in +the same mind about that watch and chain as you was the other day?” + +He didn’t seem to be able to speak at fust, but arter a time ’e gives a +gasp. “Woes the game?” he ses. + +“Wot I want to know is, if I give you that watch and chain for fifteen +bob, will that keep the ghost from ’anging round my wharf agin?” I ses. + +“Why, o’ course,” he ses, staring; “but you ain’t been seeing it agin, +’ave you?” + +“I’ve not, and I don’t want to,” I ses. “If it wants you to ’ave the +watch and chain, give me the fifteen bob, and it’s yours.” + +He looked at me for a moment as if he couldn’t believe ’is eyesight, +and then ’e puts his ’and into ’is trowsis-pocket and pulls out one +shilling and fourpence, ’arf a clay-pipe, and a bit o’ lead-pencil. + +“That’s all I’ve got with me,” he ses. “I’ll owe you the rest. You +ought to ha’ took the fifteen bob when I ’ad it.” + +There was no ’elp for it, and arter making ’im swear to give me the +rest o’ the money when ’e got it, and that I shouldn’t see the ghost +agin, I ’anded the things over to ’im and came away. He came to the +door to see me off, and if ever a man looked puzzled, ’e did. Pleased +at the same time. + +It was a load off of my mind. My con-science told me I’d done right, +and arter sending a little boy with a note to Ted Dennis to tell ’im +not to come any more, I felt ’appier than I ’ad done for a long time. +When I got to the wharf that evening it seemed like a diff’rent place, +and I was whistling and smiling over my work quite in my old way, when +the young policeman passed. + +“Hullo!” he ses. “’Ave you seen the ghost agin?” + +“I ’ave not,” I ses, drawing myself up. “’Ave you?” + +“No,” he ses. + +“We missed it.” + +“Missed it?” I ses, staring at ’im. + +“Yes,” he ses, nodding. “The day arter you came out screaming, and +cuddling me like a frightened baby, it shipped as A.B. on the barque +Ocean King, for Valparaiso. We missed it by a few hours. Next time you +see a ghost, knock it down fust and go and cuddle the police +arterwards.” + + + + +BEDRIDDEN + + +July 12, 1915.—Disquieting rumours to the effect that epidemic of +Billetitis hitherto confined to the north of King’s Road shows signs of +spreading. + +July 14.—Report that two Inns of Court men have been seen peeping over +my gate. + +July 16.—Informed that soldier of agreeable appearance and charming +manners requests interview with me. Took a dose of Phospherine and +went. Found composite photograph of French, Joffre, and Hindenburg +waiting for me in the hall. Smiled (he did, I mean) and gave me the +mutilated form of salute reserved for civilians. Introduced himself as +Quartermaster-Sergeant Beddem, and stated that the Inns of Court O.T.C. +was going under canvas next week. After which he gulped. Meantime could +I take in a billet. Questioned as to what day the corps was going into +camp said that he believed it was Monday, but was not quite sure—might +possibly be Tuesday. Swallowed again and coughed a little. Accepted +billet and felt completely re-warded by smile. Q.M.S. bade me good-bye, +and then with the air of a man suddenly remembering something, asked me +whether I could take two. Excused myself and interviewed my C.O. behind +the dining-room door. Came back and accepted. Q.M.S. so overjoyed +(apparently) that he fell over the scraper. Seemed to jog his memory. +He paused, and gazing in absent fashion at the topmost rose on the +climber in the porch, asked whether I could take three! Added hopefully +that the third was only a boy. Excused myself. Heated debate with C.O. +Subject: sheets. Returned with me to explain to the Q.M.S. He smiled. +C.O. accepted at once, and, returning smile, expressed regret at size +and position of bedrooms available. Q.M.S. went off swinging cane +jauntily. + +July 17.—Billets arrived. Spoke to them about next Monday and canvas. +They seemed surprised. Strange how the military authorities decline to +take men into their confidence merely because they are privates. Let +them upstairs. They went (for first and last time) on tiptoe. + +July 18.—Saw Q.M.S. Beddem in the town. Took shelter in the King’s +Arms. + +Jug. 3.—Went to Cornwall. + +Aug. 31.—Returned. Billets received me very hospitably. + +Sept. 4.—Private Budd, electrical engineer, dissatisfied with +appearance of bell-push in dining-room, altered it. + +Sept. 5.—Bells out of order. + +Sept. 6.—Private Merited, also an electrical engineer, helped Private +Budd to repair bells. + +Sept. 7.—Private Budd helped Private Merited to repair bells. + +Sept. 8.—Privates Budd and Merited helped each other to repair bells. + +Sept. 9.—Sent to local tradesman to put my bells in order. + +Sept. 15.—Told that Q.M.S. Beddem wished to see me. Saw C.O. first. She +thought he had possibly come to take some of the billets away. Q.M.S. +met my approach with a smile that re-minded me vaguely of +picture-postcards I had seen. Awfully sorry to trouble me, but Private +Montease, just back from three weeks’ holiday with bronchitis, was +sleeping in the wood-shed on three planks and a tin-tack. Beamed at me +and waited. Went and bought another bed-stead. + +Sept. 16.—Private Montease and a cough entered into residence. + +Sept. 17, 11.45 p.m.—Maid came to bedroom-door with some cough lozenges +which she asked me to take to the new billet. Took them. Private +Montease thanked me, but said he didn’t mind coughing. Said it was an +heirloom; Montease cough, known in highest circles all over Scotland +since time of Young Pretender. + +Sept. 20.—Private Montease installed in easy-chair in dining-room with +touch of bronchitis, looking up trains to Bournemouth. + +Sept. 21.—Private Montease in bed all day. Cook anxious “to do her bit” +rubbed his chest with home-made embrocation. Believe it is same stuff +she rubs chests in hall with. Smells the same anyway. + +Sept. 24.—Private Montease, complaining of slight rawness of chest, but +otherwise well, returned to duty. + +Oct. 5.—Cough worse again. Private Montease thinks that with care it +may turn to bronchitis. Borrowed an A.B.C. + +Oct. 6.—Private Montease relates uncanny experience. Woke up with +feeling of suffocation to find an enormous black-currant and glycerine +jujube wedged in his gullet. Never owned such a thing in his life. +Seems to be unaware that he always sleeps with his mouth open. + +Nov. 14.—Private Bowser, youngest and tallest of my billets, gazetted. + +Nov. 15, 10.35 a.m.—Private Bowser in tip-top spirits said good-bye to +us all. + +10.45.—Told that Q.M.S. Beddem desired to see me. Capitulated. New +billet, Private Early, armed to the teeth, turned up in the evening. +Said that he was a Yorkshireman. Said that Yorkshire was the finest +county in England, and Yorkshiremen the finest men in the world. Stood +toying with his bayonet and waiting for contradiction. + +Jan. 5, 1916.—Standing in the garden just after lunch was witness to +startling phenomenon. Q.M.S. Beddem came towards front-gate with a +smile so expansive that gate after first trembling violently on its +hinges swung open of its own accord. Q.M.S., with smile (sad), said he +was in trouble. Very old member of the Inns of Court, Private Keen, had +re-joined, and he wanted a good billet for him. Would cheerfully give +up his own bed, but it wasn’t long enough. Not to be outdone in +hospitality by my own gate accepted Private Keen. Q.M.S. digging hole +in my path with toe of right boot, and for first and only time +manifesting signs of nervousness, murmured that two life-long friends +of Private Keen’s had rejoined with him. Known as the Three +Inseparables. Where they were to sleep, unless I——. Fled to house, and +locking myself in top-attic watched Q.M.S. from window. He departed +with bent head and swagger-cane reversed. + +Jan 6.—Private Keen arrived. Turned out to be son of an old Chief of +mine. Resolved not to visit the sins of the father on the head of a +child six feet two high and broad in proportion. + +Feb. 6.—Private Keen came home with a temperature. + +Feb. 7.—M.O. diagnosed influenza. Was afraid it would spread. + +Feb. 8.—Warned the other four billets. They seemed amused. Pointed out +that influenza had no terrors for men in No. 2 Company, who were doomed +to weekly night-ops. under Major Carryon. + +Feb. 9.—House strangely and pleasantly quiet. Went to see how Private +Keen was progressing, and found the other four billets sitting in a row +on his bed practising deep-breathing exercises. + +Feb. 16.—Billets on night-ops. until late hour. Spoke in highest terms +of Major Carryon’s marching powers—also in other terms. + +March 3.—Waited up until midnight for Private Merited, who had gone to +Slough on his motor-bike. + +March 4, 1.5 a.m.—Awakened by series of explosions from over-worked, or +badly-worked, motor-bike. Put head out of window and threw key to +Private Merited. He seemed excited. Said he had been chased all the way +from Chesham by a pink rat with yellow spots. Advised him to go to bed. +Set him an example. + +1.10. a.m.—Heard somebody in the pantry. 2.10. a.m.—Heard Private +Merited going upstairs to bed. + +2.16 a.m.—Heard Private Merited still going upstairs to bed. + +2.20-3.15. a.m.—Heard Private Merited getting to bed. + +April 3, 12.30 a.m.—Town-hooter announced Zeppelins and excited soldier +called up my billets from their beds to go and frighten them off. +Pleasant to see superiority of billets over the hooter: that only +emitted three blasts. + +12.50 a.m.—Billets returned with exception of Private Merited, who was +retained for sake of his motor-bike. + +9 a.m.—On way to bath-room ran into Private Merited, who, looking very +glum and sleepy, inquired whether I had a copy of the Exchange and Mart +in the house. + +10 p.m.—Overheard billets discussing whether it was worth while +removing boots before going to bed until the Zeppelin scare was over. +Joined in discussion. + +May 2.—Rumours that the Inns of Court were going under canvas. +Discredited them. + +May 5.—Rumours grow stronger. + +May 6.—Billets depressed. Begin to think perhaps there is something in +rumours after all. + +May 9.-All doubts removed. Tents begin to spring up with the suddenness +of mushrooms in fields below Berkhamsted Place. + +May 18, LIBERATION DAY.—Bade a facetious good-bye to my billets; +response lacking in bonhomie. + +May 19.-House delightfully quiet. Presented caller of unkempt +appearance at back-door with remains of pair of military boots, three +empty shaving-stick tins, and a couple of partially bald tooth-brushes. + +May 21.—In afternoon went round and looked at camp. Came home smiling, +and went to favourite seat in garden to smoke. Discovered Private Early +lying on it fast asleep. Went to study. Private Merited at table +writing long and well-reasoned letter to his tailor. As he said he +could never write properly with anybody else in the room, left him and +went to bath-room. Door locked. Peevish but familiar voice, with a +Scotch accent, asked me what I wanted; also complained of temperature +of water. + +May 22.—After comparing notes with neighbours, feel deeply grateful to +Q.M.S. Beddem for sending me the best six men in the corps. + +July 15.—Feel glad to have been associated, however remotely and +humbly, with a corps, the names of whose members appear on the Roll of +Honour of every British regiment. + + + + +THE CONVERT + + +Mr. Purnip took the arm of the new recruit and hung over him almost +tenderly as they walked along; Mr. Billing, with a look of conscious +virtue on his jolly face, listened with much satisfaction to his +friend’s compliments. + +“It’s such an example,” said the latter. “Now we’ve got you the others +will follow like sheep. You will be a bright lamp in the darkness.” + +“Wot’s good enough for me ought to be good enough for them,” said Mr. +Billing, modestly. “They’d better not let me catch—” + +“H’sh! H’sh!” breathed Mr. Purnip, tilting his hat and wiping his bald, +benevolent head. + +“I forgot,” said the other, with something like a sigh. “No more +fighting; but suppose somebody hits me?” + +“Turn the other cheek,” replied Mr. Purnip. + +“They won’t hit that; and when they see you standing there smiling at +them—” + +“After being hit?” interrupted Mr. Billing. + +“After being hit,” assented the other, “they’ll be ashamed of +themselves, and it’ll hurt them more than if you struck them.” + +“Let’s ’ope so,” said the convert; “but it don’t sound reasonable. I +can hit a man pretty ’ard. Not that I’m bad-tempered, mind you; a bit +quick, p’r’aps. And, after all, a good smack in the jaw saves any +amount of argufying.” + +Mr. Purnip smiled, and, as they walked along, painted a glowing picture +of the influence to be wielded by a first-class fighting-man who +refused to fight. It was a rough neighbourhood, and he recognized with +sorrow that more respect was paid to a heavy fist than to a noble +intellect or a loving heart. + +“And you combine them all,” he said, patting his companion’s arm. + +Mr. Billing smiled. “You ought to know best,” he said, modestly. + +“You’ll be surprised to find how easy it is,” continued Mr. Purnip. +“You will go from strength to strength. Old habits will disappear, and +you will hardly know you have lost them. In a few months’ time you will +probably be wondering what you could ever have seen in beer, for +example.” + +“I thought you said you didn’t want me to give up beer?” said the +other. + +“We don’t,” said Mr. Purnip. “I mean that as you grow in stature you +will simply lose the taste for it.” + +Mr. Billing came to a sudden full stop. “D’ye mean I shall lose my +liking for a drop o’ beer without being able to help myself?” he +demanded, in an anxious voice. + +“Of course, it doesn’t happen in every case,” he said, hastily. + +Mr. Billing’s features relaxed. “Well, let’s ’ope I shall be one of the +fortunate ones,” he said, simply. “I can put up with a good deal, but +when it comes to beer——” + +“We shall see,” said the other, smiling. + +“We don’t want to interfere with anybody’s comfort; we want to make +them happier, that’s all. A little more kindness between man and man; a +little more consideration for each other; a little more brightness in +dull lives.” + +He paused at the corner of the street, and, with a hearty handshake, +went off. Mr. Billing, a prey to somewhat mixed emotions, continued on +his way home. The little knot of earnest men and women who had settled +in the district to spread light and culture had been angling for him +for some time. He wondered, as he walked, what particular bait it was +that had done the mischief. + +“They’ve got me at last,” he remarked, as he opened the house-door and +walked into his small kitchen. “I couldn’t say ‘no’ to Mr. Purnip.” + +“Wish ’em joy,” said Mrs. Billing, briefly. “Did you wipe your boots?” + +Her husband turned without a word, and, retreating to the mat, executed +a prolonged double-shuffle. + +“You needn’t wear it out,” said the surprised Mrs. Billing. + +“We’ve got to make people ’appier,” said her husband, seriously; “be +kinder to ’em, and brighten up their dull lives a bit. That’s wot Mr. +Purnip says.” + +“You’ll brighten ’em up all right,” declared Mrs. Billing, with a +sniff. “I sha’n’t forget last Tuesday week—no, not if I live to be a +hundred. You’d ha’ brightened up the police-station if I ’adn’t got you +home just in the nick of time.” + +Her husband, who was by this time busy under the scullery-tap, made no +reply. He came from it spluttering, and, seizing a small towel, stood +in the door-way burnishing his face and regarding his wife with a smile +which Mr. Purnip himself could not have surpassed. He sat down to +supper, and between bites explained in some detail the lines on which +his future life was to be run. As an earnest of good faith, he +consented, after a short struggle, to a slip of oil-cloth for the +passage; a pair of vases for the front room; and a new and somewhat +expensive corn-cure for Mrs. Billing. + +“And let’s ’ope you go on as you’ve begun,” said that gratified lady. +“There’s something in old Purnip after all. I’ve been worrying you for +months for that oilcloth. Are you going to help me wash up? Mr. Purnip +would.” + +Mr. Billing appeared not to hear, and, taking up his cap, strolled +slowly in the direction of the Blue Lion. It was a beautiful summer +evening, and his bosom swelled as he thought of the improvements that a +little brotherliness might effect in Elk Street. Engrossed in such +ideas, it almost hurt him to find that, as he entered one door of the +Blue Lion, two gentlemen, forgetting all about their beer, disappeared +through the other. + +“Wot ’ave they run away like that for?” he demanded, looking round. “I +wouldn’t hurt ’em.” + +“Depends on wot you call hurting, Joe,” said a friend. + +Mr. Billing shook his head. “They’ve no call to be afraid of me,” he +said, gravely. “I wouldn’t hurt a fly; I’ve got a new ’art.” + +“A new wot?” inquired his friend, staring. + +“A new ’art,” repeated the other. “I’ve given up fighting and swearing, +and drinking too much. I’m going to lead a new life and do all the good +I can; I’m going—” + +“Glory! Glory!” ejaculated a long, thin youth, and, making a dash for +the door, disappeared. + +“He’ll know me better in time,” said Mr. Billing. “Why, I wouldn’t hurt +a fly. I want to do good to people; not to hurt ’em. I’ll have a pint,” +he added, turning to the bar. + +“Not here you won’t,” said the landlord, eyeing him coldly. + +“Why not?” demanded the astonished Mr. Billing. + +“You’ve had all you ought to have already,” was the reply. “And there’s +one thing I’ll swear to—you ain’t had it ’ere.” + +“I haven’t ’ad a drop pass my lips began the outraged Mr. Billing. + +“Yes, I know,” said the other, wearily, as he shifted one or two +glasses and wiped the counter; “I’ve heard it all before, over and over +again. Mind you, I’ve been in this business thirty years, and if I +don’t know when a man’s had his whack, and a drop more, nobody does. +You get off ’ome and ask your missis to make you a nice cup o’ good +strong tea, and then get up to bed and sleep it off.” + +“I dare say,” said Mr. Billing, with cold dignity, as he paused at the +door—“I dare say I may give up beer altogether.” + +He stood outside pondering over the unforeseen difficulties attendant +upon his new career, moving a few inches to one side as Mr. Ricketts, a +foe of long standing, came towards the public-house, and, halting a +yard or two away, eyed him warily. + +“Come along,” said Mr. Billing, speaking somewhat loudly, for the +benefit of the men in the bar; “I sha’n’t hurt you; my fighting days +are over.” + +“Yes, I dessay,” replied the other, edging away. + +“It’s all right, Bill,” said a mutual friend, through the half-open +door; “he’s got a new ’art.” + +Mr. Ricketts looked perplexed. “’Art disease, d’ye mean?” he inquired, +hopefully. “Can’t he fight no more?” + +“A new ’art,” said Mr. Billing. “It’s as strong as ever it was, but +it’s changed—brother.” + +“If you call me ‘brother’ agin I’ll give you something for yourself, +and chance it,” said Mr. Ricketts, ferociously. “I’m a pore man, but +I’ve got my pride.” + +Mr. Billing, with a smile charged with brotherly love, leaned his left +cheek towards him. “Hit it,” he said, gently. + +“Give it a smack and run, Bill,” said the voice of a well-wisher +inside. + +“There’d be no need for ’im to run,” said Mr. Billing. “I wouldn’t hit +’im back for anything. I should turn the other cheek.” + +“Whaffor?” inquired the amazed Mr. Ricketts. + +“For another swipe,” said Mr. Billing, radiantly. + +In the fraction of a second he got the first, and reeled back +staggering. The onlookers from the bar came out hastily. Mr. Ricketts, +somewhat pale, stood his ground. + +“You see, I don’t hit you,” said Mr. Billing, with a ghastly attempt at +a smile. + +He stood rubbing his cheek gently, and, remembering Mr. Purnip’s +statements, slowly, inch by inch, turned the other in the direction of +his adversary. The circuit was still incomplete when Mr. Ricketts, +balancing himself carefully, fetched it a smash that nearly burst it. +Mr. Billing, somewhat jarred by his contact with the pavement, rose +painfully and confronted him. + +“I’ve only got two cheeks, mind,” he said, slowly. + +Mr. Ricketts sighed. “I wish you’d got a blinking dozen,” he said, +wistfully. “Well, so long. Be good.” + +He walked into the Blue Lion absolutely free from that sense of shame +which Mr. Purnip had predicted, and, accepting a pint from an admirer, +boasted noisily of his exploit. Mr. Billing, suffering both mentally +and physically, walked slowly home to his astonished wife. + +“P’r’aps he’ll be ashamed of hisself when ’e comes to think it over,” +he murmured, as Mrs. Billing, rendered almost perfect by practice, +administered first aid. + +“I s’pect he’s crying his eyes out,” she said, with a sniff. “Tell me +if that ’urts.” + +Mr. Billing told her, then, suddenly remembering himself, issued an +expurgated edition. + +“I’m sorry for the next man that ’its you,” said his wife, as she drew +back and regarded her handiwork. + +“‘Well, you needn’t be,” said Mr. Billing, with dignity. “It would take +more than a couple o’ props in the jaw to make me alter my mind when +I’ve made it up. You ought to know that by this time. Hurry up and +finish. I want you to go to the corner and fetch me a pot.” + +“What, ain’t you going out agin?” demanded his astonished wife. + +Mr. Billing shook his head. “Somebody else might want to give me one,” +he said, resignedly, “and I’ve ’ad about all I want to-night.” + +His face was still painful next morning, but as he sat at breakfast in +the small kitchen he was able to refer to Mr. Ricketts in terms which +were an eloquent testimony to Mr. Purnip’s teaching. Mrs. Billing, +unable to contain herself, wandered off into the front room with a +duster. + +“Are you nearly ready to go?” she inquired, returning after a short +interval. + +“Five minutes,” said Mr. Billing, nodding. “I’ll just light my pipe and +then I’m off.” + +“’Cos there’s two or three waiting outside for you,” added his wife. + +Mr. Billing rose. “Ho, is there?” he said, grimly, as he removed his +coat and proceeded to roll up his shirt-sleeves. “I’ll learn ’em. I’ll +give ’em something to wait for. I’ll——” + +His voice died away as he saw the triumph in his wife’s face, and, +drawing down his sleeves again, he took up his coat and stood eyeing +her in genuine perplexity. + +“Tell ’em I’ve gorn,” he said, at last. + +“And what about telling lies?” demanded his wife. “What would your Mr. +Purnip say to that?” + +“You do as you’re told,” exclaimed the harassed Mr. Billing. “I’m not +going to tell ’em; it’s you.” + +Mrs. Billing returned to the parlour, and, with Mr. Billing lurking in +the background, busied herself over a china flower-pot that stood in +the window, and turned an anxious eye upon three men waiting outside. +After a glance or two she went to the door. + +“Did you want to see my husband?” she inquired. + +The biggest of the three nodded. “Yus,” he said, shortly. + +“I’m sorry,” said Mrs. Billing, “but he ’ad to go early this morning. +Was it anything partikler?” + +“Gorn?” said the other, in disappointed tones. “Well, you tell ’im I’ll +see ’im later on.” + +He turned away, and, followed by the other two, walked slowly up the +road. Mr. Billing, after waiting till the coast was clear, went off in +the other direction. + +He sought counsel of his friend and mentor that afternoon, and stood +beaming with pride at the praise lavished upon him. Mr. Purnip’s +co-workers were no less enthusiastic than their chief; and various +suggestions were made to Mr. Billing as to his behaviour in the +unlikely event of further attacks upon his noble person. + +He tried to remember the suggestions in the harassing days that +followed; baiting Joe Billing becoming popular as a pastime from which +no evil results need be feared. It was creditable to his +fellow-citizens that most of them refrained from violence with a man +who declined to hit back, but as a butt his success was assured. The +night when a gawky lad of eighteen drank up his beer, and then invited +him to step outside if he didn’t like it, dwelt long in his memory. And +Elk Street thrilled one evening at the sight of their erstwhile +champion flying up the road hotly pursued by a foeman half his size. +His explanation to his indignant wife that, having turned the other +cheek the night before, he was in no mood for further punishment, was +received in chilling silence. + +“They’ll soon get tired of it,” he said, hopefully; “and I ain’t going +to be beat by a lot of chaps wot I could lick with one ’and tied behind +me. They’ll get to understand in time; Mr. Purnip says so. It’s a pity +that you don’t try and do some good yourself.” + +Mrs. Billing received the suggestion with a sniff; but the seed was +sown. She thought the matter over in private, and came to the +conclusion that, if her husband wished her to participate in good +works, it was not for her to deny him. Hitherto her efforts in that +direction had been promptly suppressed; Mr. Billing’s idea being that +if a woman looked after her home and her husband properly there should +be neither time nor desire for anything else. His surprise on arriving +home to tea on Saturday afternoon, and finding a couple of hard-working +neighbours devouring his substance, almost deprived him of speech. + +“Poor things,” said his wife, after the guests had gone; “they did +enjoy it. It’s cheered ’em up wonderful. You and Mr. Purnip are quite +right. I can see that now. You can tell him that it was you what put it +into my ’art.” + +“Me? Why, I never dreamt o’ such a thing,” declared the surprised Mr. +Billing. “And there’s other ways of doing good besides asking a pack of +old women in to tea.” + +“I know there is,” said his wife. “All in good time,” she added, with a +far-away look in her eyes. + +Mr. Billing cleared his throat, but nothing came of it. He cleared it +again. + +“I couldn’t let you do all the good,” said his wife, hastily. “It +wouldn’t be fair. I must help.” + +Mr. Billing lit his pipe noisily, and then took it out into the +back-yard and sat down to think over the situation. The ungenerous idea +that his wife was making goodness serve her own ends was the first that +occurred to him. + +His suspicions increased with time. Mrs. Billing’s good works seemed to +be almost entirely connected with hospitality. True, she had +entertained Mr. Purnip and one of the ladies from the Settlement to +tea, but that only riveted his bonds more firmly. Other visitors +included his sister-in-law, for whom he had a great distaste, and some +of the worst-behaved children in the street. + +“It’s only high spirits,” said Mrs. Billing; “all children are like +that. And I do it to help the mothers.” + +“And ’cos you like children,” said her husband, preserving his +good-humour with an effort. + +There was a touch of monotony about the new life, and the good deeds +that accompanied it, which, to a man of ardent temperament, was apt to +pall. And Elk Street, instead of giving him the credit which was his +due, preferred to ascribe the change in his behaviour to what they +called being “a bit barmy on the crumpet.” + +He came home one evening somewhat dejected, brightening up as he stood +in the passage and inhaled the ravishing odours from the kitchen. Mrs. +Billing, with a trace of nervousness somewhat unaccountable in view of +the excellent quality of the repast provided, poured him out a glass of +beer, and passed flattering comment upon his appearance. + +“Wot’s the game?” he inquired. + +“Game?” repeated his wife, in a trembling voice. “Nothing. ’Ow do you +find that steak-pudding? I thought of giving you one every Wednesday.” + +Mr. Billing put down his knife and fork and sat regarding her +thoughtfully. Then he pushed back his chair suddenly, and, a picture of +consternation and wrath, held up his hand for silence. + +“W-w-wot is it?” he demanded. “A cat?” + +Mrs. Billing made no reply, and her husband sprang to his feet as a +long, thin wailing sounded through the house. A note of temper crept +into it and strengthened it. + +“Wot is it?” demanded Mr. Billing again. “It’s—it’s Mrs. Smith’s +Charlie,” stammered his wife. + +“In—in my bedroom?” exclaimed her husband, in incredulous accents. +“Wot’s it doing there?” + +“I took it for the night,” said his wife hurriedly. “Poor thing, what +with the others being ill she’s ’ad a dreadful time, and she said if +I’d take Charlie for a few—for a night, she might be able to get some +sleep.” + +Mr. Billing choked. “And what about my sleep?” he shouted. “Chuck it +outside at once. D’ye hear me?” + +His words fell on empty air, his wife having already sped upstairs to +pacify Master Smith by a rhythmical and monotonous thumping on the +back. Also she lifted up a thin and not particularly sweet voice and +sang to him. Mr. Billing, finishing his supper in indignant silence, +told himself grimly that he was “beginning to have enough of it.” + +He spent the evening at the Charlton Arms, and, returning late, went +slowly and heavily up to bed. In the light of a shaded candle he saw a +small, objectionable-looking infant fast asleep on two chairs by the +side of the bed. + +“H’sh!” said his wife, in a thrilling whisper. “He’s just gone off.” + +“D’ye mean I mustn’t open my mouth in my own bedroom?” demanded the +indignant man, loudly. + +“H’sh!” said his wife again. + +It was too late. Master Smith, opening first one eye and then the +other, finished by opening his mouth. The noise was appalling. + +“H’sh! H’sh!” repeated Mrs. Billing, as her husband began to add to the +noise. “Don’t wake ’im right up.” + +“Right up?” repeated the astonished man. “Right up? Why, is he doing +this in ’is sleep?” + +He subsided into silence, and, undressing with stealthy care, crept +into bed and lay there, marvelling at his self-control. He was a sound +sleeper, but six times at least he was awakened by Mrs. Billing +slipping out of bed—regardless of draughts to her liege lord—and +marching up and down the room with the visitor in her arms. He rose in +the morning and dressed in ominous silence. + +“I ’ope he didn’t disturb you,” said his wife, anxiously. + +“You’ve done it,” replied Mr. Billing. “You’ve upset everything now. +Since I joined the Purnip lot everybody’s took advantage of me; now I’m +going to get some of my own back. You wouldn’t ha’ dreamt of behaving +like this a few weeks ago.” + +“Oh, Joe!” said his wife, entreatingly; “and everybody’s been so +happy!” + +“Except me,” retorted Joe Billing. “You come down and get my breakfast +ready. If I start early I shall catch Mr. Bill Ricketts on ’is way to +work. And mind, if I find that steam-orgin ’ere when I come ’ome +to-night you’ll hear of it.” + +He left the house with head erect and the light of battle in his eyes, +and, meeting Mr. Ricketts at the corner, gave that justly aggrieved +gentleman the surprise of his life. Elk Street thrilled to the fact +that Mr. Billing had broken out again, and spoke darkly of what the +evening might bring forth. Curious eyes followed his progress as he +returned home from work, and a little later on the news was spread +abroad that he was out and paying off old scores with an ardour that +nothing could withstand. + +“And wot about your change of ’art?” demanded one indignant matron, as +her husband reached home five seconds ahead of Mr. Billing and hid in +the scullery. + +“It’s changed agin,” said Mr. Billing, simply. + +He finished the evening in the Blue Lion, where he had one bar almost +to himself, and, avoiding his wife’s reproachful glance when he arrived +home, procured some warm water and began to bathe his honourable scars. + +“Mr. Purnip ’as been round with another gentleman,” said his wife. + +Mr. Billing said, “Oh!” + +“Very much upset they was, and ’ope you’ll go and see them,” she +continued. + +Mr. Billing said “Oh!” again; and, after thinking the matter over, +called next day at the Settlement and explained his position. + +“It’s all right for gentlemen like you,” he said civilly. “But a man. +like me can’t call his soul ’is own—or even ’is bedroom. Everybody +takes advantage of ’im. Nobody ever gives you a punch, and, as for +putting babies in your bedroom, they wouldn’t dream of it.” + +He left amid expressions of general regret, turning a deaf ear to all +suggestions about making another start, and went off exulting in his +freedom. + +His one trouble was Mr. Purnip, that estimable gentleman, who seemed to +have a weird gift of meeting him at all sorts of times and places, +never making any allusion to his desertion, but showing quite clearly +by his manner that he still hoped for the return of the wanderer. It +was awkward for a man of sensitive disposition, and Mr. Billing, before +entering a street, got into the habit of peering round the corner +first. + +He pulled up suddenly one evening as he saw his tenacious friend, +accompanied by a lady-member, some little distance ahead. Then he +sprang forward with fists clenched as a passer-by, after scowling at +Mr. Purnip, leaned forward and deliberately blew a mouthful of smoke +into the face of his companion. + +Mr. Billing stopped again and stood gaping with astonishment. The +aggressor was getting up from the pavement, while Mr. Purnip, in an +absolutely correct attitude, stood waiting for him. Mr. Billing in a +glow of delight edged forward, and, with a few other fortunates, stood +by watching one of the best fights that had ever been seen in the +district. Mr. Purnip’s foot-work was excellent, and the way he timed +his blows made Mr. Billing’s eyes moist with admiration. + +It was over at last. The aggressor went limping off, and Mr. Purnip, +wiping his bald head, picked up his battered and dusty hat from the +roadway and brushed it on his sleeve. He turned with a start and a +blush to meet the delighted gaze of Mr. Billing. + +“I’m ashamed of myself,” he murmured, brokenly—“ashamed.” + +“Ashamed!” exclaimed the amazed Mr. Billing. “Why, a pro couldn’t ha’ +done better.” + +“Such an awful example,” moaned the other. “All my good work here +thrown away.” + +“Don’t you believe it, sir,” said Mr. Billing, earnestly. “As soon as +this gets about you’ll get more members than you want a’most. I’m +coming back, for one.” + +Mr. Purnip turned and grasped his hand. + +“I understand things now,” said Mr. Billing, nodding sagely. “Turning +the other cheek’s all right so long as you don’t do it always. If you +don’t let ’em know whether you are going to turn the other cheek or +knock their blessed heads off, it’s all right. ’Arf the trouble in the +world is caused by letting people know too much.” + + + + +HUSBANDRY + + +Dealing with a man, said the night-watchman, thoughtfully, is as easy +as a teetotaller walking along a nice wide pavement; dealing with a +woman is like the same teetotaller, arter four or five whiskies, trying +to get up a step that ain’t there. If a man can’t get ’is own way he +eases ’is mind with a little nasty language, and then forgets all about +it; if a woman can’t get ’er own way she flies into a temper and +reminds you of something you oughtn’t to ha’ done ten years ago. Wot a +woman would do whose ’usband had never done anything wrong I can’t +think. + +I remember a young feller telling me about a row he ’ad with ’is wife +once. He ’adn’t been married long and he talked as if the way she +carried on was unusual. Fust of all, he said, she spoke to ’im in a +cooing sort o’ voice and pulled his moustache, then when he wouldn’t +give way she worked herself up into a temper and said things about ’is +sister. Arter which she went out o’ the room and banged the door so +hard it blew down a vase off the fireplace. Four times she came back to +tell ’im other things she ’ad thought of, and then she got so upset she +’ad to go up to bed and lay down instead of getting his tea. When that +didn’t do no good she refused her food, and when ’e took her up toast +and tea she wouldn’t look at it. Said she wanted to die. He got quite +uneasy till ’e came ’ome the next night and found the best part of a +loaf o’ bread, a quarter o’ butter, and a couple o’ chops he ’ad got in +for ’is supper had gorn; and then when he said ’e was glad she ’ad got +’er appetite back she turned round and said that he grudged ’er the +food she ate. + +And no woman ever owned up as ’ow she was wrong; and the more you try +and prove it to ’em the louder they talk about something else. I know +wot I’m talking about because a woman made a mistake about me once, and +though she was proved to be in the wrong, and it was years ago, my +missus shakes her ’ead about it to this day. + +It was about eight years arter I ’ad left off going to sea and took up +night-watching. A beautiful summer evening it was, and I was sitting by +the gate smoking a pipe till it should be time to light up, when I +noticed a woman who ’ad just passed turn back and stand staring at me. +I’ve ’ad that sort o’ thing before, and I went on smoking and looking +straight in front of me. Fat middle-aged woman she was, wot ’ad lost +her good looks and found others. She stood there staring and staring, +and by and by she tries a little cough. + +I got up very slow then, and, arter looking all round at the evening, +without seeing ’er, I was just going to step inside and shut the +wicket, when she came closer. + +“Bill!” she ses, in a choking sort o’ voice. + +“Bill!” + +I gave her a look that made her catch ’er breath, and I was just +stepping through the wicket, when she laid hold of my coat and tried to +hold me back. + +“Do you know wot you’re a-doing of?” I ses, turning on her. + +“Oh, Bill dear,” she ses, “don’t talk to me like that. Do you want to +break my ’art? Arter all these years!” + +She pulled out a dirt-coloured pocket-’ankercher and stood there +dabbing her eyes with it. One eye at a time she dabbed, while she +looked at me reproachful with the other. And arter eight dabs, four to +each eye, she began to sob as if her ’art would break. + +“Go away,” I ses, very slow. “You can’t stand making that noise outside +my wharf. Go away and give somebody else a treat.” + +Afore she could say anything the potman from the Tiger, a nasty +ginger-’aired little chap that nobody liked, come by and stopped to pat +her on the back. + +“There, there, don’t take on, mother,” he ses. “Wot’s he been a-doing +to you?” + +“You get off ’ome,” I ses, losing my temper. + +“Wot d’ye mean trying to drag me into it? I’ve never seen the woman +afore in my life.” + +“Oh, Bill!” ses the woman, sobbing louder than ever. “Oh! Oh! Oh!” + +“’Ow does she know your name, then?” ses the little beast of a potman. + +I didn’t answer him. I might have told ’im that there’s about five +million Bills in England, but I didn’t. I stood there with my arms +folded acrost my chest, and looked at him, superior. + +“Where ’ave you been all this long, long time?” she ses, between her +sobs. “Why did you leave your happy ’ome and your children wot loved +you?” + +The potman let off a whistle that you could have ’eard acrost the +river, and as for me, I thought I should ha’ dropped. To have a woman +standing sobbing and taking my character away like that was a’most more +than I could bear. + +“Did he run away from you?” ses the potman. + +“Ye-ye-yes,” she ses. “He went off on a vy’ge to China over nine years +ago, and that’s the last I saw of ’im till to-night. A lady friend o’ +mine thought she reckernized ’im yesterday, and told me.” + +“I shouldn’t cry over ’im,” ses the potman, shaking his ’ead: “he ain’t +worth it. If I was you I should just give ’im a bang or two over the +’ead with my umberella, and then give ’im in charge.” + +I stepped inside the wicket—backwards—and then I slammed it in their +faces, and putting the key in my pocket, walked up the wharf. I knew it +was no good standing out there argufying. I felt sorry for the pore +thing in a way. If she really thought I was her ’usband, and she ’ad +lost me—— I put one or two things straight and then, for the sake of +distracting my mind, I ’ad a word or two with the skipper of the John +Henry, who was leaning against the side of his ship, smoking. + +“Wot’s that tapping noise?” he ses, all of a sudden. “’Ark!” + +I knew wot it was. It was the handle of that umberella ’ammering on the +gate. I went cold all over, and then when I thought that the pot-man +was most likely encouraging ’er to do it I began to boil. + +“Somebody at the gate,” ses the skipper. + +“Aye, aye,” I ses. “I know all about it.” + +I went on talking until at last the skipper asked me whether he was +wandering in ’is mind, or whether I was. The mate came up from the +cabin just then, and o’ course he ’ad to tell me there was somebody +knocking at the gate. + +“Ain’t you going to open it?” ses the skipper, staring at me. + +“Let ’em ring,” I ses, off-hand. + +The words was ’ardly out of my mouth afore they did ring, and if they +’ad been selling muffins they couldn’t ha’ kept it up harder. And all +the time the umberella was doing rat-a-tat tats on the gate, while a +voice— much too loud for the potman’s—started calling out: “Watch-man +ahoy!” + +“They’re calling you, Bill,” ses the skipper. “I ain’t deaf,” I ses, +very cold. + +“Well, I wish I was,” ses the skipper. “It’s fair making my ear ache. +Why the blazes don’t you do your dooty, and open the gate?” + +“You mind your bisness and I’ll mind mine,” I ses. “I know wot I’m +doing. It’s just some silly fools ’aving a game with me, and I’m not +going to encourage ’em.” + +“Game with you?” ses the skipper. “Ain’t they got anything better than +that to play with? Look ’ere, if you don’t open that gate, I will.” + +“It’s nothing to do with you,” I ses. “You look arter your ship and +I’ll look arter my wharf. See? If you don’t like the noise, go down in +the cabin and stick your ’ead in a biscuit-bag.” + +To my surprise he took the mate by the arm and went, and I was just +thinking wot a good thing it was to be a bit firm with people +sometimes, when they came back dressed up in their coats and +bowler-hats and climbed on to the wharf. + +“Watchman!” ses the skipper, in a hoity-toity sort o’ voice, “me and +the mate is going as far as Aldgate for a breath o’ fresh air. Open the +gate.” + +I gave him a look that might ha’ melted a ’art of stone, and all it +done to ’im was to make ’im laugh. + +“Hurry up,” he ses. “It a’most seems to me that there’s somebody +ringing the bell, and you can let them in same time as you let us out. +Is it the bell, or is it my fancy, Joe?” he ses, turning to the mate. + +They marched on in front of me with their noses cocked in the air, and +all the time the noise at the gate got worse and worse. So far as I +could make out, there was quite a crowd outside, and I stood there with +the key in the lock, trembling all over. Then I unlocked it very +careful, and put my hand on the skipper’s arm. + +“Nip out quick,” I ses, in a whisper. + +“I’m in no hurry,” ses the skipper. “Here! Halloa, wot’s up?” + +It was like opening the door at a theatre, and the fust one through was +that woman, shoved behind by the potman. Arter ’im came a car-man, two +big ’ulking brewers’ draymen, a little scrap of a woman with ’er bonnet +cocked over one eye, and a couple of dirty little boys. + +“Wot is it?” ses the skipper, shutting the wicket behind ’em. “A +beanfeast?” + +“This lady wants her ’usband,” ses the pot-man, pointing at me. “He run +away from her nine years ago, and now he says he ’as never seen ’er +before. He ought to be ’ung.” + +“Bill,” ses the skipper, shaking his silly ’ead at me. “I can ’ardly +believe it.” + +“It’s all a pack o’ silly lies,” I ses, firing up. “She’s made a +mistake.” + +“She made a mistake when she married you,” ses the thin little woman. +“If I was in ’er shoes I’d take ’old of you and tear you limb from +limb.” + +“I don’t want to hurt ’im, ma’am,” ses the other woman. “I on’y want +him to come ’ome to me and my five. Why, he’s never seen the youngest, +little Annie. She’s as like ’im as two peas.” + +“Pore little devil,” ses the carman. + +“Look here!” I ses, “you clear off. All of you. ’Ow dare you come on to +my wharf? If you aren’t gone in two minutes I’ll give you all in +charge.” + +“Who to?” ses one of the draymen, sticking his face into mine. “You go +’ome to your wife and kids. Go on now, afore I put up my ’ands to you.” + +“That’s the way to talk to ’im,” ses the pot-man, nodding at ’em. + +They all began to talk to me then and tell me wot I was to do, and wot +they would do if I didn’t. I couldn’t get a word in edgeways. When I +reminded the mate that when he was up in London ’e always passed +himself off as a single man, ’e wouldn’t listen; and when I asked the +skipper whether ’is pore missus was blind, he on’y went on shouting at +the top of ’is voice. It on’y showed me ’ow anxious most people are +that everybody else should be good. + +I thought they was never going to stop, and, if it ’adn’t been for a +fit of coughing, I don’t believe that the scraggy little woman could +ha’ stopped. Arter one o’ the draymen ’ad saved her life and spoilt ’er +temper by patting ’er on the back with a hand the size of a leg o’ +mutton, the carman turned to me and told me to tell the truth, if it +choked me. + +“I have told you the truth,” I ses. “She ses I’m her ’usband and I say +I ain’t. Ow’s she going to prove it? Why should you believe her, and +not me?” + +“She’s got a truthful face,” ses the carman. + +“Look here!” ses the skipper, speaking very slow, “I’ve got an idea, +wot’ll settle it p’raps. You get outside,” he ses, turning sharp on the +two little boys. + +One o’ the draymen ’elped ’em to go out, and ’arf a minute arterwards a +stone came over the gate and cut the potman’s lip open. Boys will be +boys. + +“Now!” ses the skipper, turning to the woman, and smiling with +conceitedness. “Had your ’usband got any marks on ’im? Birth-mark, or +moles, or anything of that sort?” + +“I’m sure he is my ’usband,” ses the woman, dabbing her eyes. + +“Yes, yes,” ses the skipper, “but answer my question. If you can tell +us any marks your ’usband had, we can take Bill down into my cabin +and——” + +“You’ll do WOT?” I ses, in a loud voice. + +“You speak when you’re spoke to,” ses the carman. “It’s got nothing to +do with you.” + +“No, he ain’t got no birthmarks,” ses the woman, speaking very slow—and +I could see she was afraid of making a mistake and losing me—“but he’s +got tattoo marks. He’s got a mermaid tattooed on ’im.” + +“Where?” ses the skipper, a’most jumping. + +I ’eld my breath. Five sailormen out of ten have been tattooed with +mermaids, and I was one of ’em. When she spoke agin I thought I should +ha’ dropped. + +“On ’is right arm,” she ses, “unless he’s ’ad it rubbed off.” + +“You can’t rub out tattoo marks,” ses the skipper. + +They all stood looking at me as if they was waiting for something. I +folded my arms—tight—and stared back at ’em. + +“If you ain’t this lady’s ’usband,” ses the skipper, turning to me, +“you can take off your coat and prove it.” + +“And if you don’t we’ll take it off for you,” ses the carman, coming a +bit closer. + +Arter that things ’appened so quick, I hardly knew whether I was +standing on my ’cad or my heels. Both, I think. They was all on top o’ +me at once, and the next thing I can remember is sitting on the ground +in my shirt-sleeves listening to the potman, who was making a fearful +fuss because somebody ’ad bit his ear ’arf off. My coat was ripped up +the back, and one of the draymen was holding up my arm and showing them +all the mermaid, while the other struck matches so as they could see +better. + +“That’s your ’usband right enough,” he ses to the woman. “Take ’im.” + +“P’raps she’ll carry ’im ’ome,” I ses, very fierce and sarcastic. + +“And we don’t want none of your lip,” ses the carman, who was in a bad +temper because he ’ad got a fearful kick on the shin from somewhere. + +I got up very slow and began to put my coat on again, and twice I ’ad +to tell that silly woman that when I wanted her ’elp I’d let ’er know. +Then I ’eard slow, heavy footsteps in the road outside, and, afore any +of ’em could stop me, I was calling for the police. + +I don’t like policemen as a rule; they’re too inquisitive, but when the +wicket was pushed open and I saw a face with a helmet on it peeping in, +I felt quite a liking for ’em. + +“Wot’s up?” ses the policeman, staring ’ard at my little party. + +They all started telling ’im at once, and I should think if the potman +showed him ’is ear once he showed it to ’im twenty times. He lost his +temper and pushed it away at last, and the potman gave a ’owl that set +my teeth on edge. I waited till they was all finished, and the +policeman trying to get ’is hearing back, and then I spoke up in a +quiet way and told ’im to clear them all off of my wharf. + +“They’re trespassing,” I ses, “all except the skipper and mate here. +They belong to a little wash-tub that’s laying alongside, and they’re +both as ’armless as they look.” + +It’s wonderful wot a uniform will do. The policeman just jerked his +’ead and said “out-side,” and the men went out like a flock of sheep. +The on’y man that said a word was the carman, who was in such a hurry +that ’e knocked his bad shin against my foot as ’e went by. The thin +little woman was passed out by the policeman in the middle of a speech +she was making, and he was just going for the other, when the skipper +stopped ’im. + +“This lady is coming on my ship,” he ses, puffing out ’is chest. + +I looked at ’im, and then I turned to the policeman. “So long as she +goes off my wharf, I don’t mind where she goes,” I ses. “The skipper’s +goings-on ’ave got nothing to do with me.” + +“Then she can foller him ’ome in the morning,” ses the skipper. “Good +night, watch-man.” + +Him and the mate ’elped the silly old thing to the ship, and, arter I +’ad been round to the Bear’s Head and fetched a pint for the +police-man, I locked up and sat down to think things out; and the more +I thought the worse they seemed. I’ve ’eard people say that if you have +a clear conscience nothing can hurt you. They didn’t know my missus. + +I got up at last and walked on to the jetty, and the woman, wot was +sitting on the deck of the John Henry, kept calling out: “Bill!” like a +sick baa-lamb crying for its ma. I went back, and ’ad four pints at the +Bear’s Head, but it didn’t seem to do me any good, and at last I went +and sat down in the office to wait for morning. + +It came at last, a lovely morning with a beautiful sunrise; and that +woman sitting up wide awake, waiting to foller me ’ome. When I opened +the gate at six o’clock she was there with the mate and the skipper, +waiting, and when I left at five minutes past she was trotting along +beside me. + +Twice I stopped and spoke to ’er, but it was no good. Other people +stopped too, and I ’ad to move on agin; and every step was bringing me +nearer to my house and the missus. + +I turned into our street, arter passing it three times, and the first +thing I saw was my missus standing on the doorstep ’aving a few words +with the lady next door. Then she ’appened to look up and see us, just +as that silly woman was trying to walk arm-in-arm. + +Twice I knocked her ’and away, and then, right afore my wife and the +party next door, she put her arm round my waist. By the time I got to +the ’ouse my legs was trembling so I could hardly stand, and when I got +into the passage I ’ad to lean up against the wall for a bit. + +[Illustration: Right afore my wife and the party next door, she put +her arm round my waist.] + +“Keep ’er out,” I ses. + +“Wot do you want?” ses my missus, trembling with passion. “Wot do you +think you’re doing?” + +“I want my ’usband, Bill,” ses the woman. + +My missus put her ’and to her throat and came in without a word, and +the woman follered ’er. If I hadn’t kept my presence o’ mind and shut +the door two or three more would ’ave come in too. + +I went into the kitchen about ten minutes arterwards to see ’ow they +was getting on. Besides which they was both calling for me. + +“Now then!” ses my missus, who was leaning up against the dresser with +’er arms folded, “wot ’ave you got to say for yourself walking in as +bold as brass with this hussy?” + +“Bill!” ses the woman, “did you hear wot she called me?” + +She spoke to me like that afore my wife, and in two minutes they was at +it, hammer and tongs. + +Fust of all they spoke about each other, and then my missus started +speaking about me. She’s got a better memory than most people, because +she can remember things that never ’appened, and every time I coughed +she turned on me like a tiger. + +“And as for you,” she ses, turning to the woman, “if you did marry ’im +you should ha’ made sure that he ’adn’t got a wife already.” + +“He married me fust,” ses the woman. + +“When?” ses my wife. “Wot was the date?” + +“Wot was the date you married ’im?” ses the other one. + +They stood looking at each other like a couple o’ game-cocks, and I +could see as plain as a pike-staff ’ow frightened both of ’em was o’ +losing me. + +“Look here!” I ses at last, to my missus, “talk sense. ’Ow could I be +married to ’er? When I was at sea I was at sea, and when I was ashore I +was with you.” + +“Did you use to go down to the ship to see ’im off?” ses the woman. + +“No,” ses my wife. “I’d something better to do.” + +“Neither did I,” ses the woman. “P’raps that’s where we both made a +mistake.” + +“You get out of my ’ouse!” ses my missus, very sudden. “Go on, afore I +put you out.” + +“Not without my Bill,” ses the woman. “If you lay a finger on me I’ll +scream the house down.” + +“You brought her ’ere,” ses my wife, turning to me, “now you can take +’er away?” + +“I didn’t bring ’er,” I ses. “She follered me.” + +“Well, she can foller you agin,” she ses. “Go on!” she ses, trembling +all over. “Git out afore I start on you.” + +I was in such a temper that I daren’t trust myself to stop. I just gave +’er one look, and then I drew myself up and went out. ’Alf the fools in +our street was standing in front of the ’ouse, ’umming like bees, but I +took no notice. I held my ’ead up and walked through them with that +woman trailing arter me. + +I was in such a state of mind that I went on like a man in a dream. If +it had ha’ been a dream I should ha’ pushed ’er under an omnibus, but +you can’t do things like that in real life. + +“Penny for your thoughts, Bill,” she ses. I didn’t answer her. + +“Why don’t you speak to me?” she ses. + +“You don’t know wot you’re asking for,” I ses. + +I was hungry and sleepy, and ’ow I was going to get through the day I +couldn’t think. I went into a pub and ’ad a couple o’ pints o’ stout +and a crust o’ bread and cheese for brekfuss. I don’t know wot she ’ad, +but when the barman tried to take for it out o’ my money, I surprised +’im. + +We walked about till I was ready to drop. Then we got to Victoria Park, +and I ’ad no sooner got on to the grass than I laid down and went +straight off to sleep. It was two o’clock when I woke, and, arter a +couple o’ pork-pies and a pint or two, I sat on a seat in the Park +smoking, while she kep’ dabbing ’er eyes agin and asking me to come +’ome. + +At five o’clock I got up to go back to the wharf, and, taking no notice +of ’er, I walked into the street and jumped on a ’bus that was passing. +She jumped too, and, arter the conductor had ’elped ’er up off of ’er +knees and taken her arms away from his waist, I’m blest if he didn’t +turn on me and ask me why I ’adn’t left her at ’ome. + +We got to the wharf just afore six. The John Henry ’ad gorn, but the +skipper ’ad done all the ’arm he could afore he sailed, and, if I +’adn’t kept my temper, I should ha’ murdered arf a dozen of ’em. + +The woman wanted to come on to the wharf, but I ’ad a word or two with +one o’ the fore-men, who owed me arf-a-dollar, and he made that all +right. + +“We all ’ave our faults, Bill,” he ses as ’e went out, “and I suppose +she was better looking once upon a time?” + +I didn’t answer ’im. I shut the wicket arter ’im, quick, and turned the +key, and then I went on with my work. For a long time everything was as +quiet as the grave, and then there came just one little pull at the +bell. Five minutes arterwards there was another. + +I thought it was that woman, but I ’ad to make sure. When it came the +third time I crept up to the gate. + +“Halloa!” I ses. “Who is it?” + +“Me, darling,” ses a voice I reckernized as the potman’s. “Your missus +wants to come in and sit down.” + +I could ’ear several people talking, and it seemed to me there was +quite a crowd out there, and by and by that bell was going like mad. +Then people started kicking the gate, and shouting, but I took no +notice until, presently, it left off all of a sudden, and I ’eard a +loud voice asking what it was all about. I suppose there was about +fifty of ’em all telling it at once, and then there was the sound of a +fist on the gate. + +“Who is it?” I ses. + +“Police,” ses the voice. + +I opened the wicket then and looked out. A couple o’ policemen was +standing by the gate and arf the riff-raff of Wapping behind ’em. + +“Wot’s all this about?” ses one o’ the policemen. + +I shook my ’ead. “Ask me another,” I ses. “Your missus is causing a +disturbance,” he ses. + +“She’s not my missus,” I ses; “she’s a complete stranger to me.” + +“And causing a crowd to collect and refusing to go away,” ses the other +policeman. + +“That’s your business,” I ses. “It’s nothing to do with me.” + +They talked to each other for a moment, and then they spoke to the +woman. I didn’t ’ear wot she said, but I saw her shake her ’ead, and +a’most direckly arterwards she was marching away between the two +policemen with the crowd follering and advising ’er where to kick ’em. + +I was a bit worried at fust—not about her—and then I began to think +that p’raps it was the best thing that could have ’appened. + +I went ’ome in the morning with a load lifted off my mind; but I ’adn’t +been in the ’ouse two seconds afore my missus started to put it on +agin. Fust of all she asked me ’ow I dared to come into the ’ouse, and +then she wanted to know wot I meant by leaving her at ’ome and going +out for the day with another woman. + +“You told me to,” I ses. + +“Oh, yes,” she ses, trembling with temper. “You always do wot I tell +you, don’t you? Al-ways ’ave, especially when it’s anything you like.” + +She fetched a bucket o’ water and scrubbed the kitchen while I was +having my brekfuss, but I kept my eye on ’er, and, the moment she ’ad +finished, I did the perlite and emptied the bucket for ’er, to prevent +mistakes. + +I read about the case in the Sunday paper, and I’m thankful to say my +name wasn’t in it. All the magistrate done was to make ’er promise that +she wouldn’t do it again, and then he let ’er go. I should ha’ felt +more comfortable if he ’ad given ’er five years, but, as it turned out, +it didn’t matter. Her ’usband happened to read it, and, whether ’e was +tired of living alone, or whether he was excited by ’caring that she +’ad got a little general shop, ’e went back to her. + +The fust I knew about it was they came round to the wharf to see me. He +’ad been a fine-looking chap in ’is day, and even then ’e was enough +like me for me to see ’ow she ’ad made the mistake; and all the time +she was telling me ’ow it ’appened, he was looking me up and down and +sniffing. + +“’Ave you got a cold?” I ses, at last. + +“Wot’s that got to do with you?” he ses. “Wot do you mean by walking +out with my wife? That’s what I’ve come to talk about.” + +For a moment I thought that his bad luck ’ad turned ’is brain. “You’ve +got it wrong,” I ses, as soon as I could speak. “She walked out with +me.” + +“Cos she thought you was her ’usband,” he ses, “but you didn’t think +you was me, did you?” + +“’Course I didn’t,” I ses. + +“Then ’ow dare you walk out with ’er?” he ses. + +“Look ’ere!” I ses. “You get off ’ome as quick as you like. I’ve ’ad +about enough of your family. Go on, hook it.” + +Afore I could put my ’ands up he ’it me hard in the mouth, and the next +moment we was at it as ’ard as we could go. Nearly every time I hit ’im +he wasn’t there, and every time ’e hit me I wished I hadn’t ha’ been. +When I said I had ’ad enough, ’e contradicted me and kept on, but he +got tired of it at last, and, arter telling me wot he would do if I +ever walked ’is wife out agin, they went off like a couple o’ +love-birds. + +By the time I got ’ome next morning my eyes was so swelled up I could +’ardly see, and my nose wouldn’t let me touch it. I was so done up I +could ’ardly speak, but I managed to tell my missus about it arter I +had ’ad a cup o’ tea. Judging by her face anybody might ha’ thought I +was telling ’er something funny, and, when I ’ad finished, she looks up +at the ceiling and ses: + +“I ’ope it’ll be a lesson to you,” she ses. + + + + +FAMILY CARES + + +Mr. Jernshaw, who was taking the opportunity of a lull in business to +weigh out pound packets of sugar, knocked his hands together and stood +waiting for the order of the tall bronzed man who had just entered the +shop—a well-built man of about forty—who was regarding him with blue +eyes set in quizzical wrinkles. + +“What, Harry!” exclaimed Mr. Jernshaw, in response to the wrinkles. +“Harry Barrett!” + +“That’s me,” said the other, extending his hand. “The rolling stone +come home covered with moss.” + +Mr. Jernshaw, somewhat excited, shook hands, and led the way into the +little parlour behind the shop. + +“Fifteen years,” said Mr. Barrett, sinking into a chair, “and the old +place hasn’t altered a bit.” + +“Smithson told me he had let that house in Webb Street to a Barrett,” +said the grocer, regarding him, “but I never thought of you. I suppose +you’ve done well, then?” + +Mr. Barrett nodded. “Can’t grumble,” he said modestly. “I’ve got enough +to live on. Melbourne’s all right, but I thought I’d come home for the +evening of my life.” + +“Evening!” repeated his friend. “Forty-three,” said Mr. Barrett, +gravely. “I’m getting on.” + +“You haven’t changed much,” said the grocer, passing his hand through +his spare grey whiskers. “Wait till you have a wife and seven +youngsters. Why, boots alone——” + +Mr. Barrett uttered a groan intended for sympathy. “Perhaps you could +help me with the furnishing,” he said, slowly. “I’ve never had a place +of my own before, and I don’t know much about it.” + +“Anything I can do,” said his friend. “Better not get much yet; you +might marry, and my taste mightn’t be hers.” + +Mr. Barrett laughed. “I’m not marrying,” he said, with conviction. + +“Seen anything of Miss Prentice yet?” inquired Mr. Jernshaw. + +“No,” said the other, with a slight flush. “Why?” + +“She’s still single,” said the grocer. + +“What of it?” demanded Mr. Barrett, with warmth. “What of it?” + +“Nothing,” said Mr. Jernshaw, slowly. “Nothing; only I——” + +“Well?” said the other, as he paused. + +“I—there was an idea that you went to Australia to—to better your +condition,” murmured the grocer. “That—that you were not in a position +to marry—that——” + +“Boy and girl nonsense,” said Mr. Barrett, sharply. “Why, it’s fifteen +years ago. I don’t suppose I should know her if I saw her. Is her +mother alive?” + +“Rather!” said Mr. Jernshaw, with emphasis. “Louisa is something like +what her mother was when you went away.” + +Mr. Barrett shivered. + +“But you’ll see for yourself,” continued the other. “You’ll have to go +and see them. They’ll wonder you haven’t been before.” + +“Let ’em wonder,” said the embarrassed Mr. Barrett. “I shall go and see +all my old friends in their turn; casual-like. You might let ’em hear +that I’ve been to see you before seeing them, and then, if they’re +thinking any nonsense, it’ll be a hint. I’m stopping in town while the +house is being decorated; next time I come down I’ll call and see +somebody else.” + +“That’ll be another hint,” assented Mr. Jernshaw. “Not that hints are +much good to Mrs. Prentice.” + +“We’ll see,” said Mr. Barrett. + +In accordance with his plan his return to his native town was heralded +by a few short visits at respectable intervals. A sort of human +butterfly, he streaked rapidly across one or two streets, alighted for +half an hour to resume an old friendship, and then disappeared again. +Having given at least half-a-dozen hints of this kind, he made a final +return to Ramsbury and entered into occupation of his new house. + +“It does you credit, Jernshaw,” he said, gratefully. “I should have +made a rare mess of it without your help.” + +“It looks very nice,” admitted his friend. “Too nice.” + +“That’s all nonsense,” said the owner, irritably. + +“All right,” said Mr. Jernshaw. “I don’t know the sex, then, that’s +all. If you think that you’re going to keep a nice house like this all +to yourself, you’re mistaken. It’s a home; and where there’s a home a +woman comes in, somehow.” + +Mr. Barrett grunted his disbelief. + +“I give you four days,” said Mr. Jernshaw. + +As a matter of fact, Mrs. Prentice and her daughter came on the fifth. +Mr. Barrett, who was in an easy-chair, wooing slumber with a +handkerchief over his head, heard their voices at the front door and +the cordial invitation of his housekeeper. They entered the room as he +sat hastily smoothing his rumpled hair. + +“Good afternoon,” he said, shaking hands. + +Mrs. Prentice returned the greeting in a level voice, and, accepting a +chair, gazed around the room. + +“Nice weather,” said Mr. Barrett. + +“Very,” said Mrs. Prentice. + +“It’s—it’s quite a pleasure to see you again,” said Mr. Barrett. + +“We thought we should have seen you before,” said Mrs. Prentice, “but I +told Louisa that no doubt you were busy, and wanted to surprise her. I +like the carpet; don’t you, Louisa?” + +Miss Prentice said she did. + +“The room is nice and airy,” said Mrs. Prentice, “but it’s a pity you +didn’t come to me before deciding. I could have told you of a better +house for the same money.” + +“I’m very well satisfied with this,” said Mr. Barrett. “It’s all I +want.” + +“It’s well enough,” conceded Mrs. Prentice, amiably. “And how have you +been all these years?” + +Mr. Barrett, with some haste, replied that his health and spirits had +been excellent. + +“You look well,” said Mrs. Prentice. “Neither of you seem to have +changed much,” she added, looking from him to her daughter. “And I +think you did quite well not to write. I think it was much the best.” + +Mr. Barrett sought for a question: a natural, artless question, that +would neutralize the hideous suggestion conveyed by this remark, but it +eluded him. He sat and gazed in growing fear at Mrs. Prentice. + +“I—I couldn’t write,” he said at last, in desperation; “my wife——” + +“Your what?” exclaimed Mrs. Prentice, loudly. + +“Wife,” said Mr. Barrett, suddenly calm now that he had taken the +plunge. “She wouldn’t have liked it.” + +Mrs. Prentice tried to control her voice. “I never heard you were +married!” she gasped. “Why isn’t she here?” + +“We couldn’t agree,” said the veracious Mr. Barrett. “She was very +difficult; so I left the children with her and——” + +“Chil——” said Mrs. Prentice, and paused, unable to complete the word. + +“Five,” said Mr. Barrett, in tones of resignation. “It was rather a +wrench, parting with them, especially the baby. He got his first tooth +the day I left.” + +The information fell on deaf ears. Mrs. Prentice, for once in her life +thoroughly at a loss, sat trying to collect her scattered faculties. +She had come out prepared for a hard job, but not an impossible one. +All things considered, she took her defeat with admirable composure. + +“I have no doubt it is much the best thing for the children to remain +with their mother,” she said, rising. + +“Much the best,” agreed Mr. Barrett. “Whatever she is like,” continued +the old lady. “Are you ready, Louisa?” + +Mr. Barrett followed them to the door, and then, returning to the room, +watched, with glad eyes, their progress up the street. + +“Wonder whether she’ll keep it to herself?” he muttered. + +His doubts were set at rest next day. All Ramsbury knew by then of his +matrimonial complications, and seemed anxious to talk about them; +complications which tended to increase until Mr. Barrett wrote out a +list of his children’s names and ages and learnt it off by heart. + +Relieved of the attentions of the Prentice family, he walked the +streets a free man; and it was counted to him for righteousness that he +never said a hard word about his wife. She had her faults, he said, but +they were many thousand miles away, and he preferred to forget them. +And he added, with some truth, that he owed her a good deal. + +For a few months he had no reason to alter his opinion. Thanks to his +presence of mind, the Prentice family had no terrors for him. +Heart-whole and fancy free, he led the easy life of a man of leisure, a +condition of things suddenly upset by the arrival of Miss Grace Lindsay +to take up a post at the elementary school. Mr. Barrett succumbed +almost at once, and, after a few encounters in the street and meetings +at mutual friends’, went to unbosom him-self to Mr. Jernshaw. + +“What has she got to do with you?” demanded that gentleman. + +“I—I’m rather struck with her,” said Mr. Barrett. + +“Struck with her?” repeated his friend, sharply. “I’m surprised at you. +You’ve no business to think of such things.” + +“Why not?” demanded Mr. Barrett, in tones that were sharper still. + +“Why not?” repeated the other. “Have you forgotten your wife and +children?” + +Mr. Barrett, who, to do him justice, had forgotten, fell back in his +chair and sat gazing at him, open-mouthed. + +“You’re in a false position—in a way,” said Mr. Jernshaw, sternly. + +“False is no name for it,” said Mr. Barrett, huskily. “What am I to +do?” + +“Do?” repeated the other, staring at him. “Nothing! Unless, perhaps, +you send for your wife and children. I suppose, in any case, you would +have to have the little ones if anything happened to her?” + +Mr. Barrett grinned ruefully. + +“Think it over,” said Mr. Jernshaw. “I will,” said the other, heartily. + +He walked home deep in thought. He was a kindly man, and he spent some +time thinking out the easiest death for Mrs. Barrett. He decided at +last upon heart-disease, and a fort-night later all Ramsbury knew of +the letter from Australia conveying the mournful intelligence. It was +generally agreed that the mourning and the general behaviour of the +widower left nothing to be desired. + +“She’s at peace at last,” he said, solemnly, to Jernshaw. + +“I believe you killed her,” said his friend. Mr. Barrett started +violently. + +“I mean your leaving broke her heart,” explained the other. + +Mr. Barrett breathed easily again. + +“It’s your duty to look after the children,” said Jernshaw, firmly. +“And I’m not the only one that thinks so.” + +“They are with their grandfather and grand-mother,” said Mr. Barrett. + +Mr. Jernshaw sniffed. + +“And four uncles and five aunts,” added Mr. Barrett, triumphantly. + +“Think how they would brighten up your house,” said Mr. Jernshaw. + +His friend shook his head. “It wouldn’t be fair to their grandmother,” +he said, decidedly. “Besides, Australia wants population.” + +He found to his annoyance that Mr. Jernshaw’s statement that he was not +alone in his views was correct. Public opinion seemed to expect the +arrival of the children, and one citizen even went so far as to +recommend a girl he knew, as nurse. + +Ramsbury understood at last that his decision was final, and, observing +his attentions to the new schoolmistress, flattered itself that it had +discovered the reason. It is possible that Miss Lindsay shared their +views, but if so she made no sign, and on the many occasions on which +she met Mr. Barrett on her way to and from school greeted him with +frank cordiality. Even when he referred to his loneliness, which he did +frequently, she made no comment. + +He went into half-mourning at the end of two months, and a month later +bore no outward signs of his loss. Added to that his step was springy +and his manner youthful. Miss Lindsay was twenty-eight, and he +persuaded himself that, sexes considered, there was no disparity worth +mentioning. + +He was only restrained from proposing by a question of etiquette. Even +a shilling book on the science failed to state the interval that should +elapse between the death of one wife and the negotiations for another. +It preferred instead to give minute instructions with regard to the +eating of asparagus. In this dilemma he consulted Jernshaw. + +“Don’t know, I’m sure,” said that gentle-man; “besides, it doesn’t +matter.” + +“Doesn’t matter?” repeated Mr. Barrett. “Why not?” + +“Because I think Tillett is paying her attentions,” was the reply. +“He’s ten years younger than you are, and a bachelor. A girl would +naturally prefer him to a middle-aged widower with five children.” + +“In Australia,” the other reminded him. + +“Man for man, bachelor for bachelor,” said Mr. Jernshaw, regarding him, +“she might prefer you; as things are—” + +“I shall ask her,” said Mr. Barrett, doggedly. “I was going to wait a +bit longer, but if there’s any chance of her wrecking her prospects for +life by marrying that tailor’s dummy it’s my duty to risk it—for her +sake. I’ve seen him talking to her twice myself, but I never thought +he’d dream of such a thing.” + +Apprehension and indignation kept him awake half the night, but when he +arose next morning it was with the firm resolve to put his fortune to +the test that day. At four o’clock he changed his neck-tie for the +third time, and at ten past sallied out in the direction of the school. +He met Miss Lindsay just coming out, and, after a well-deserved +compliment to the weather, turned and walked with her. + +“I was hoping to meet you,” he said, slowly. + +“Yes?” said the girl. + +“I—I have been feeling rather lonely to-day,” he continued. + +“You often do,” said Miss Lindsay, guardedly. + +“It gets worse and worse,” said Mr. Barrett, sadly. + +“I think I know what is the matter with you,” said the girl, in a soft +voice; “you have got nothing to do all day, and you live alone, except +for your housekeeper.” + +Mr. Barrett assented with some eagerness, and stole a hopeful glance at +her. + +“You—you miss something,” continued Miss. Lindsay, in a faltering +voice. + +“I do,” said Mr. Barrett, with ardour. + +“You miss”—the girl made an effort—“you miss the footsteps and voices +of your little children.” + +Mr. Barrett stopped suddenly in the street, and then, with a jerk, went +blindly on. + +“I’ve never spoken of it before because it’s your business, not mine,” +continued the girl. “I wouldn’t have spoken now, but when you referred +to your loneliness I thought perhaps you didn’t realize the cause of +it.” + +Mr. Barrett walked on in silent misery. + +“Poor little motherless things!” said Miss Lindsay, softly. “Motherless +and—fatherless.” + +“Better for them,” said Mr. Barrett, finding his voice at last. + +“It almost looks like it,” said Miss Lindsay, with a sigh. + +Mr. Barrett tried to think clearly, but the circumstances were hardly +favourable. “Suppose,” he said, speaking very slowly, “suppose I wanted +to get married?” + +Miss Lindsay started. “What, again?” she said, with an air of surprise. + +“How could I ask a girl to come and take over five children?” + +“No woman that was worth having would let little children be sacrificed +for her sake,” said Miss Lindsay, decidedly. + +“Do you think anybody would marry me with five children?” demanded Mr. +Barrett. + +“She might,” said the girl, edging away from him a little. “It depends +on the woman.” + +“Would—you, for instance?” said Mr. Barrett, desperately. + +Miss Lindsay shrank still farther away. “I don’t know; it would depend +upon circumstances,” she murmured. + +“I will write and send for them,” said Mr. Barrett, significantly. + +Miss Lindsay made no reply. They had arrived at her gate by this time, +and, with a hurried handshake, she disappeared indoors. + +Mr. Barrett, somewhat troubled in mind, went home to tea. + +He resolved, after a little natural hesitation, to drown the children, +and reproached himself bitterly for not having disposed of them at the +same time as their mother. Now he would have to go through another +period of mourning and the consequent delay in pressing his suit. +Moreover, he would have to allow a decent interval between his +conversation with Miss Lindsay and their untimely end. + +The news of the catastrophe arrived two or three days before the return +of the girl from her summer holidays. She learnt it in the first +half-hour from her landlady, and sat in a dazed condition listening to +a description of the grief-stricken father and the sympathy extended to +him by his fellow-citizens. It appeared that nothing had passed his +lips for two days. + +[Illustration: She learnt the news in the first half-hour from her +landlady.] + +“Shocking!” said Miss Lindsay, briefly. “Shocking!” + +An instinctive feeling that the right and proper thing to do was to +nurse his grief in solitude kept Mr. Barrett out of her way for nearly +a week. When she did meet him she received a limp handshake and a +greeting in a voice from which all hope seemed to have departed. + +“I am very sorry,” she said, with a sort of measured gentleness. + +Mr. Barrett, in his hushed voice, thanked her. + +“I am all alone now,” he said, pathetically. “There is nobody now to +care whether I live or die.” + +Miss Lindsay did not contradict him. + +“How did it happen?” she inquired, after they had gone some distance in +silence. + +“They were out in a sailing-boat,” said Mr. Barrett; “the boat capsized +in a puff of wind, and they were all drowned.” + +“Who was in charge of them?” inquired the girl, after a decent +interval. + +“Boatman,” replied the other. + +“How did you hear?” + +“I had a letter from one of my sisters-in-law, Charlotte,” said Mr. +Barrett. “A most affecting letter. Poor Charlotte was like a second +mother to them. She’ll never be the same woman again. Never!” + +“I should like to see the letter,” said Miss Lindsay, musingly. + +Mr. Barrett suppressed a start. “I should like to show it to you,” he +said, “but I’m afraid I have destroyed it. It made me shudder every +time I looked at it.” + +“It’s a pity,” said the girl, dryly. “I should have liked to see it. +I’ve got my own idea about the matter. Are you sure she was very fond +of them?” + +“She lived only for them,” said Mr. Barrett, in a rapt voice. + +“Exactly. I don’t believe they are drowned at all,” said Miss Lindsay, +suddenly. “I believe you have had all this terrible anguish for +nothing. It’s too cruel.” + +Mr. Barrett stared at her in anxious amazement. + +“I see it all now,” continued the girl. “Their Aunt Charlotte was +devoted to them. She always had the fear that some day you would return +and claim them, and to prevent that she invented the story of their +death.” + +“Charlotte is the most truthful woman that ever breathed,” said the +distressed Mr. Barrett. + +Miss Lindsay shook her head. “You are like all other honourable, +truthful people,” she said, looking at him gravely. “You can’t imagine +anybody else telling a falsehood. I don’t believe you could tell one if +you tried.” + +Mr. Barrett gazed about him with the despairing look of a drowning +mariner. + +“I’m certain I’m right,” continued the girl. “I can see Charlotte +exulting in her wickedness. Why!” + +“What’s the matter?” inquired Mr. Barrett, greatly worried. + +“I’ve just thought of it,” said Miss Lindsay. “She’s told you that your +children are drowned, and she has probably told them you are dead. A +woman like that would stick at nothing to gain her ends.” + +“You don’t know Charlotte,” said Mr. Barrett, feebly. + +“I think I do,” was the reply. “However, we’ll make sure. I suppose +you’ve got friends in Melbourne?” + +“A few,” said Mr. Barrett, guardedly. + +“Come down to the post-office and cable to one of them.” + +Mr. Barrett hesitated. “I’ll write,” he said, slowly. “It’s an awkward +thing to cable; and there’s no hurry. I’ll write to Jack Adams, I +think.” + +“It’s no good writing,” said Miss Lindsay, firmly. “You ought to know +that.” + +“Why not?” demanded the other. + +“Because, you foolish man,” said the girl, calmly, “before your letter +got there, there would be one from Melbourne saying that he had been +choked by a fish-bone, or died of measles, or something of that sort.” + +Mr. Barrett, hardly able to believe his ears, stopped short and looked +at her. The girl’s eyes were moist with mirth and her lips trembling. +He put out his hand and took her wrist in a strong grip. + +“That’s all right,” he said, with a great gasp of relief. “Phew! At one +time I thought I had lost you.” + +“By heart-disease, or drowning?” inquired Miss Lindsay, softly. + + + + +THE WINTER OFFENSIVE + + +N.B.—Having regard to the eccentricities of the Law of Libel it must be +distinctly understood that the following does not refer to the +distinguished officer, Lieut. Troup Horne, of the Inns of Court. +Anybody trying to cause mischief between a civilian of eight stone and +a soldier of seventeen by a statement to the contrary will hear from my +solicitors. + +Aug. 29, 1916.—We returned from the sea to find our house still our +own, and the military still in undisputed possession of the remains of +the grass in the fields of Berkhamsted Place. As in previous years, it +was impossible to go in search of wild-flowers without stumbling over +sleeping members of the Inns of Court; but war is war, and we grumble +as little as possible. + +Sept. 28.—Unpleasant rumours to the effect that several members of the +Inns of Court had attributed cases of curvature of the spine to +sleeping on ground that had been insufficiently rolled. Also that they +had been heard to smack their lips and speak darkly of featherbeds. +Respected neighbour of gloomy disposition said that if Pharaoh were +still alive he could suggest an eleventh plague to him beside which +frogs and flies were an afternoon’s diversion. + +Oct. 3.—Householders of Berkhamsted busy mending bedsteads broken by +last year’s billets, and buying patent taps for their beer-barrels. + +Oct. 15.—Informed that a representative of the Army wished to see me. +Instead of my old friend Q.M.S. Beddem, who generally returns to life +at this time of year, found that it was an officer of magnificent +presence and two pips. A fine figure of a man, with a great resemblance +to the late lamented Bismarck, minus the moustache and the three hairs +on the top of the head. Asked him to be seated. He selected a chair +that was all arms and legs and no hips to speak of and crushed himself +into it. After which he unfastened his belt and “swelled wisibly afore +my werry eyes.” Said that his name was True Born and asked if it made +any difference to me whether I had one officer or half-a-dozen men +billeted on me. Said that he was the officer, and that as the +rank-and-file were not allowed to pollute the same atmosphere, thought +I should score. After a mental review of all I could remember of the +Weights and Measures Table, accepted him. He bade a lingering farewell +to the chair, and departed. + +Oct. 16.—Saw Q.M.S. Beddem on the other side of the road and gave him +an absolutely new thrill by crossing to meet him. Asked diffidently—as +diffidently as he could, that is—how many men my house would hold. +Replied eight—or ten at a pinch. He gave me a surprised and beaming +smile and whipped out a huge note-book. Informed him with as much +regret as I could put into a voice not always under perfect control, +that I had already got an officer. Q.M.S., favouring me with a look +very appropriate to the Devil’s Own, turned on his heel and set off in +pursuit of a lady-billetee, pulling up short on the threshold of the +baby-linen shop in which she took refuge. Left him on guard with a +Casablanca-like look on his face. + +Nov. 1.—Lieut. True Born took up his quarters with us. Gave him my +dressing-room for bedchamber. Was awakened several times in the night +by what I took to be Zeppelins, flying low. + +Nov. 2.—Lieut. True Born offered to bet me five pounds to twenty that +the war would be over by 1922. + +Nov. 3.—Offered to teach me auction-bridge. + +Nov. 4.—Asked me whether I could play “shove ha’penny.” + +Nov. 10.—Lieut. True Born gave one of the regimental horses a +riding-lesson. Came home grumpy and went to bed early. + +Nov. 13.—Another riding-lesson. Over-heard him asking one of the maids +whether there was such a thing as a water-bed in the house. + +Nov. 17.—Complained bitterly of horse-copers. Said that his poor mount +was discovered to be suffering from saddle-soreness, broken wind, +splints, weak hocks, and two bones of the neck out of place. + +Dec. 9.—7 p.m.—One of last year’s billets, Private Merited, on leave +from a gunnery course, called to see me and to find out whether his old +bed had improved since last year. Left his motor-bike in the garage, +and the smell in front of the dining-room window. + +8 to 12 p.m.—Sat with Private Merited, listening to Lieut. True Born on +the mistakes of Wellington. + +12.5 a.m.—Rose to go to bed. Was about to turn out gas in hall when I +discovered the lieutenant standing with his face to the wall playing +pat-a-cake with it. Gave him three-parts of a tumbler of brandy. Said +he felt better and went upstairs. Arrived in his bed-room, he looked +about him carefully, and then, with a superb sweep of his left arm, +swept the best Chippendale looking-glass in the family off the dressing +table and dived face down-wards to the floor, missing death and the +corner of the chest of drawers by an inch. + +12:15 a.m.—Rolled him on to his back and got his feet on the bed. They +fell off again as soon as they were cleaner than the quilt. The +lieutenant, startled by the crash, opened his eyes and climbed into bed +unaided. + +12.20 a.m.—Sent Private Merited for the M.O., Captain Geranium. + +12.25 a.m.—Mixed a dose of brandy and castor-oil in a tumbler. Am told +it slips down like an oyster that way—bad oyster, I should think. +Lieut. True Born jibbed. Reminded him that England expects that every +man will take his castor-oil. Reply unprintable. Apologized a moment +later. Said that his mind was wandering and that he thought he was a +colonel. Reassured him. + +12.40 a.m.—Private Merited returned with the M.O. Latter nicely dressed +in musical-comedy pyjamas of ravishing hue, and great-coat, with +rose-tinted feet thrust into red morocco slippers. Held consultation +and explained my treatment. M.O. much impressed, anxious to know +whether I was a doctor. Told him “No,” but that I knew all the ropes. +First give patient castor-oil, then diet him and call every day to make +sure that he doesn’t like his food. After that, if he shows signs of +getting well too soon, give him a tonic. . . . M.O. stuffy. + +Dec. 10.—M.O. diagnosed attack as due to something which True Born +believes to be tobacco, with which he disinfects the house, the +mess-sheds, and the streets of Berkhamsted. + +Dec. 11.—True Born, shorn of thirteen pipes a day out of sixteen, +disparages the whole race of M.O.’s. + +Dec. 14.—He obtains leave to attend wedding of a great-aunt and +ransacks London for a specialist who advocates strong tobacco. + +Dec. 15.—He classes specialists with M.O.’s. Is surprised (and +apparently disappointed) that, so far, the breaking of the +looking-glass has brought me no ill-luck. Feel somewhat uneasy myself +until glass is repaired by local cabinet-maker. + +Jan. 10, 1917.—Lieut. True Born starts to break in another horse. + +Feb. 1.—Horse broken. + +March 3.—Running short of tobacco, go to my billet’s room and try a +pipe of his. Take all the remedies except the castor-oil. + +April 4, 8.30 a.m.—Awakened by an infernal crash and discover that my +poor looking-glass is in pieces again on the floor. True Born explains +that its position, between the open door and the open window, was too +much for it. Don’t believe a word of it. Shall believe to my dying day +that it burst in a frantic but hopeless attempt to tell Lieut. True +Born the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. + +April 6.—The lieutenant watching for some sign of misfortune to me. +Says that I can’t break a mirror twice without ill-luck following it. +Me! + +April 9.—Lieut. True Born comes up to me with a face full of +conflicting emotions. “Your ill-luck has come at last,” he says with +gloomy satisfaction. “We go under canvas on the 23rd. You are losing +me!” + + + + +THE SUBSTITUTE + + +The night watchman had just returned to the office fire after leaving +it to attend a ring at the wharf bell. He sat for some time puffing +fiercely at his pipe and breathing heavily. + +“Boys!” he said, at last. “That’s the third time this week, and yet if +I was to catch one and skin ’im alive I suppose I should get into +trouble over it. Even ’is own father and mother would make a fuss, most +like. Some people have boys, and other people ’ave the trouble of ’em. +Our street’s full of ’em, and the way they carry on would make a +monkey-’ouse ashamed of itself. The man next door to me’s got seven of +’em, and when I spoke to ’im friendly about it over a pint one night, +he put the blame on ’is wife. + +“The worst boy I ever knew used to be office-boy in this ’ere office, +and I can’t understand now why I wasn’t ’ung for him. Undersized little +chap he was, with a face the colour o’ bad pie-crust, and two little +black eyes like shoe-buttons. To see ’im with his little white cuffs, +and a stand-up collar, and a little black bow, and a little bowler-’at, +was enough to make a cat laugh. I told ’im so one day, and arter that +we knew where we was. Both of us. + +“By rights he ought to ’ave left the office at six—just my time for +coming on. As it was, he used to stay late, purtending to work ’ard so +as to get a rise. Arter all the clerks ’ad gorn ’ome he used to sit +perched up on a stool yards too ’igh for him, with one eye on the +ledger and the other looking through the winder at me. I remember once +going off for ’arf a pint, and when I come back I found ’im with a +policeman, two carmen, and all the hands off of the Maid Marian, +standing on the edge of the jetty, waiting for me to come up. He said +that, not finding me on the wharf, ’e made sure that I must ’ave +tumbled overboard, as he felt certain that I wouldn’t neglect my dooty +while there was breath in my body; but ’e was sorry to find ’e was +mistook. He stood there talking like a little clergyman, until one of +the carmen knocked his ’at over ’is eyes, and then he forgot ’imself +for a bit. + +“Arter that I used to wait until he ’ad gorn afore I ’ad my arf-pint. I +didn’t want my good name taken away, and I had to be careful, and +many’s the good arf-pint I ’ad to refuse because that little imitation +monkey was sitting in the office drawing faces on ’is blotting-paper. +But sometimes it don’t matter ’ow careful you are, you make a mistake. + +“There was a little steamer, called the Eastern Monarch, used to come +up here in them days, once a week. Fat little tub she was, with a crew +o’ fattish old men, and a skipper that I didn’t like. He’d been in the +coasting trade all ’is life, while I’ve knocked about all over the +world, but to hear ’im talk you’d think he knew more about things than +I did. + +“Eddication, Bill,’ he ses one evening, ‘that’s the thing! You can’t +argufy without it; you only talk foolish, like you are doing now.’ + +“‘There’s eddication and there’s common sense,’ I ses. ‘Some people ’as +one and some people ’as the other. Give me common sense.’ + +“‘That’s wot you want,’ he ses, nodding. + +“‘And, o’ course,’ I ses, looking at ’im, ‘there’s some people ’asn’t +got either one or the other.’ + +“The office-boy came out of the office afore he could think of an +answer, and the pair of ’em stood there talking to show off their +cleverness, till their tongues ached. I took up my broom and went on +sweeping, and they was so busy talking long words they didn’t know the +meaning of to each other that they was arf choked with dust afore they +noticed it. When they did notice it they left off using long words, and +the skipper tried to hurt my feelings with a few short ones ’e knew. + +“‘It’s no good wasting your breath on ’im,’ ses the boy. ‘You might as +well talk to a beer-barrel.’ + +“He went off, dusting ’imself down with his little pocket-’ankercher, +and arter the skipper ’ad told me wot he’d like to do, only he was too +sorry for me to do it, ’e went back to the ship to put on a clean +collar, and went off for the evening. + +“He always used to go off by hisself of a evening, and I used to wonder +’ow he passed the time. Then one night I found out. + +“I had just come out of the Bear’s Head, and stopped to look round +afore going back to the wharf, when I see a couple o’ people standing +on the swing-bridge saying ‘Good-bye’ to each other. One of ’em was a +man and the other wasn’t. + +“‘Evening, cap’n,’ I ses, as he came towards me, and gave a little +start. ‘I didn’t know you ’ad brought your missis up with you this +trip.’ + +“‘Evening, Bill,’ he ses, very peaceful. ‘Wot a lovely evening!’ + +“‘Bee-utiful!’ I ses. + +“‘So fresh,’ ses the skipper, sniffing in some of the air. + +“‘Makes you feel quite young agin,’ I ses. + +“He didn’t say nothing to that, except to look at me out of the corner +of ’is eye; and stepping on to the wharf had another look at the sky to +admire it, and then went aboard his ship. If he ’ad only stood me a +pint, and trusted me, things might ha’ turned out different. + +“Quite by chance I happened to be in the Bear’s Head a week arterwards, +and, quite by chance, as I came out I saw the skipper saying ‘Good-bye’ +on the bridge agin. He seemed to be put out about something, and when I +said ‘Wot a lovely evening it would be if only it wasn’t raining ’ard!’ +he said something about knocking my ’ead off. + +“‘And you keep your nose out o’ my bisness,’ he ses, very fierce. + +“‘Your bisness!’ I ses. ‘Wot bisness?’ + +“‘There’s some people as might like to know that you leave the wharf to +look arter itself while you’re sitting in a pub swilling gallons and +gallons o’ beer,’ he ses, in a nasty sort o’ way. ‘Live and let live, +that’s my motter.” + +“‘I don’t know wot you’re talking about,’ I ses, ‘but it don’t matter +anyways. I’ve got a clear conscience; that’s the main thing. I’m as +open as the day, and there’s nothing about me that I’d mind anybody +knowing. Wot a pity it is everybody can’t say the same!’ + +“I didn’t see ’im saying ‘Good-bye’ the next week or the week arter +that either, but the third week, arter just calling in at the Bear’s +Head, I strolled on casual-like and got as far as the bottom of Tower +Hill afore I remembered myself. Turning the corner, I a’most fell over +the skipper, wot was right in the fair way, shaking ’ands with his +lady-friend under the lamp-post. Both of ’em started, and I couldn’t +make up my mind which gave me the most unpleasant look. + +“‘Peep-bo!’ I ses, cheerful-like. + +“He stood making a gobbling noise at me, like a turkey. + +“‘Give me quite a start, you did,’ I ses. ‘I didn’t dream of you being +there.’ + +“‘Get off!’ he ses, spluttering. ‘Get off, afore I tear you limb from +limb! ’Ow dare you follow me about and come spying round corners at me? +Wot d’ye mean by it?’ + +“I stood there with my arms folded acrost my chest, as calm as a +cucumber. The other party stood there watching us, and wot ’e could +’ave seen in her, I can’t think. She was dressed more like a man than a +woman, and it would have taken the good looks of twenty like her to +’ave made one barmaid. I stood looking at ’er like a man in a dream. + +“‘Well, will you know me agin?’ she ses, in a nasty cracked sort of +voice. + +“‘I could pick you out of a million,’ I ses—‘if I wanted to.’ + +“‘Clear out!’ ses the skipper. ‘Clear out! And thank your stars there’s +a lady present.’ + +“‘Don’t take no notice of ’im, Captain Pratt,’ ses the lady. ‘He’s +beneath you. You only encourage people like that by taking notice of +’em. Good-bye.’ + +“She held out her ’and, and while the skipper was shaking it I began to +walk back to the wharf. I ’adn’t gorn far afore I heard ’im coming up +behind me, and next moment ’e was walking alongside and saying things +to try and make me lose my temper. + +“‘Ah, it’s a pity your pore missis can’t ’ear you!’ I ses. ‘I expect +she thinks you are stowed away in your bunk dreaming of ’er, instead of +saying things about a face as don’t belong to you.’ + +“‘You mind your bisness,’ he ses, shouting. ‘And not so much about my +missis! D’ye hear? Wot’s it got to do with you? Who asked you to shove +your oar in?’ + +“‘You’re quite mistook,’ I ses, very calm. ‘I’d no idea that there was +anything on as shouldn’t be. I was never more surprised in my life. If +anybody ’ad told me, I shouldn’t ’ave believed ’em. I couldn’t. Knowing +you, and knowing ’ow respectable you ’ave always purtended to be, and +also and likewise that you ain’t no chicken——’ + +“I thought ’e was going to ’ave a fit. He ’opped about, waving his arms +and stuttering and going on in such a silly way that I didn’t like to +be seen with ’im. Twice he knocked my ’at off, and arter telling him +wot would ’appen if ’e did it agin, I walked off and left him. + +“Even then ’e wasn’t satisfied, and arter coming on to the wharf and +following me up and down like a little dog, he got in front of me and +told me some more things he ’ad thought of. + +“‘If I catch you spying on me agin,’ he ses, ‘you’ll wish you’d never +been born!’ + +“‘You get aboard and ’ave a quiet sleep,’ I ses. ‘You’re wandering in +your mind.’ + +“‘The lady you saw me with,’ he ses, looking at me very fierce, ’is a +friend o’ mine that I meet sometimes for the sake of her talk.’ + +“‘Talk!’ I ses, staring at ’im. ‘Talk! Wot, can’t one woman talk enough +for you? Is your missis dumb? or wot?’ + +“‘You don’t understand,’ he ses, cocking up ’is nose at me. ‘She’s a +interleckshal woman; full of eddication and information. When my missis +talks, she talks about the price o’ things and says she must ’ave more +money. Or else she talks about things I’ve done, or sometimes things I +’aven’t done. It’s all one to her. There’s no pleasure in that sort o’ +talk. It don’t help a man.’ + +“‘I never ’eard of any talk as did,’ I ses. + +“‘I don’t suppose you did,’ he ses, sneering-like. ‘Now, to-night, fust +of all, we talked about the House of Lords and whether it ought to be +allowed; and arter that she gave me quite a little lecture on insecks.’ + +“‘It don’t seem proper to me,’ I ses. ‘I ’ave spoke to my wife about +’em once or twice, but I should no more think of talking about such +things to a single lady——’ + +“He began to jump about agin as if I’d bit ’im, and he ’ad so much to +say about my ’ed and blocks of wood that I pretty near lost my temper. +I should ha’ lost it with some men, but ’e was a very stiff-built chap +and as hard as nails. + +“‘Beer’s your trouble,’ he ses, at last. ‘Fust of all you put it down, +and then it climbs up and soaks wot little brains you’ve got. Wot you +want is a kind friend to prevent you from getting it.’ + +“I don’t know wot it was, but I ’ad a sort of sinking feeling inside as +’e spoke, and next evening, when I saw ’im walk to the end of the jetty +with the office-boy and stand there talking to ’im with his ’and on his +shoulder, it came on worse than ever. And I put two and two together +when the guv’nor came up to me next day, and, arter talking about +‘dooty’ and ’ow easy it was to get night-watchmen, mentioned in ’a +off-’and sort of way that, if I left the wharf at all between six and +six, I could stay away altogether. + +“I didn’t answer ’im a word. I might ha’ told ’im that there was plenty +of people arter me ready to give me double the money, but I knew he +could never get anybody to do their dooty by the wharf like I ’ad done, +so I kept quiet. It’s the way I treat my missis nowadays, and it pays; +in the old days I used to waste my breath answering ’er back. + +“I wouldn’t ha’ minded so much if it ’adn’t ha’ been for that boy. He +used to pass me, as ’e went off of a evening, with a little sly smile +on ’is ugly little face, and sometimes when I was standing at the gate +he’d give a sniff or two and say that he could smell beer, and he +supposed it came from the Bear’s Head. + +“It was about three weeks arter the guv’nor ’ad forgot ’imself, and I +was standing by the gate one evening, when I saw a woman coming along +carrying a big bag in her ’and. I ’adn’t seen ’er afore, and when she +stopped in front of me and smiled I was on my guard at once. I don’t +smile at other people, and I don’t expect them to smile at me. + +“‘At last!’ she ses, setting down ’er bag and giving me another smile. +‘I thought I was never going to get ’ere.” + +“I coughed and backed inside a little bit on to my own ground. I didn’t +want to ’ave that little beast of a office-boy spreading tales about +me. + +“‘I’ve come up to ’ave a little fling,’ she ses, smiling away harder +than ever. ‘My husband don’t know I’m ’ere. He thinks I’m at ’ome.’ + +“I think I went back pretty near three yards. + +“‘I come up by train,’ she ses, nodding. + +“‘Yes,’ I ses, very severe, ‘and wot about going back by it?’ + +“‘Oh, I shall go back by ship,’ she ses. ‘Wot time do you expect the +Eastern Monarch up?’ + +“‘Well,’ I ses, ’ardly knowing wot to make of ’er, ‘she ought to be up +this tide; but there’s no reckoning on wot an old washtub with a engine +like a sewing-machine inside ’er will do.’ + +“‘Oh, indeed!’ she ses, leaving off smiling very sudden. ‘Oh, indeed! +My husband might ’ave something to say about that.’ + +“‘Your ’usband?’ I ses. + +“‘Captain Pratt,’ she ses, drawing ’erself up. ‘I’m Mrs. Pratt. He left +yesterday morning, and I’ve come up ’ere by train to give ’im a little +surprise.’ + +“You might ha’ knocked me down with a feather, and I stood there +staring at her with my mouth open, trying to think. + +“‘Take care,’ I ses at last. ‘Take care as you don’t give ’im too much +of a surprise!’ + +“‘Wot do you mean?’ she ses, firing up. + +“‘Nothing,’ I ses. ‘Nothing, only I’ve known ’usbands in my time as +didn’t like being surprised—that’s all. If you take my advice, you’ll +go straight back home agin.’ + +“‘I’ll tell ’im wot you say,’ she ses, ’as soon as ’is ship comes in.’ + +“That’s a woman all over; the moment they get into a temper they want +to hurt somebody; and I made up my mind at once that, if anybody was +going to be ’urt, it wasn’t me. And, besides, I thought it might be for +the skipper’s good—in the long run. + +“I broke it to her as gentle as I could. I didn’t tell ’er much, I just +gave her a few ’ints. Just enough to make her ask for more. + +“‘And mind,’ I ses, ‘I don’t want to be brought into it. If you should +’appen to take a fancy into your ’ed to wait behind a pile of empties +till the ship comes in, and then slip out and foller your ’usband and +give ’im the little surprise you spoke of, it’s nothing to do with me.’ + +“‘I understand,’ she ses, biting her lip. ‘There’s no need for ’im to +know that I’ve been on the wharf at all.’ + +“I gave ’er a smile—I thought she deserved it—but she didn’t smile +back. She was rather a nice-looking woman in the ordinary way, but I +could easy see ’ow temper spoils a woman’s looks. She stood there +giving little shivers and looking as if she wanted to bite somebody. + +“‘I’ll go and hide now,’ she ses. + +“‘Not yet,’ I ses. ‘You’ll ’ave to wait till that little blackbeetle in +the office ’as gorn.’ ‘Blackbeetle?’ she ses, staring. + +“‘Office-boy,’ I ses. ‘He’d better not see you at all. S’pose you go +off for a bit and come back when I whistle?’ + +“Afore she could answer the boy came out of the office, ready to go +’ome. He gave a little bit of a start when ’e saw me talking to a lady, +and then ’e nips down sudden, about a couple o’ yards away, and begins +to do ’is bootlace up. It took ’im some time, because he ’ad to undo it +fust, but ’e finished it at last, and arter a quick look at Mrs. Pratt, +and one at me that I could ha’ smacked his ’ed for, ’e went off +whistling and showing ’is little cuffs. + +“I stepped out into the road and watched ’im out o’ sight. Then I told +Mrs. Pratt to pick up ’er bag and foller me. + +“As it ’appened there was a big pile of empties in the corner of the +ware’ouse wall, just opposite the Eastern Monarch’s berth. It might ha’ +been made for the job, and, arter I ’ad tucked her away behind and +given ’er a box to sit on, I picked up my broom and began to make up +for lost time. + +“She sat there as quiet as a cat watching a mouse’ole, and I was going +on with my work, stopping every now and then to look and see whether +the Monarch was in sight, when I ’appened to turn round and see the +office-boy standing on the edge of the wharf with his back to the +empties, looking down at the water. I nearly dropped my broom. + +“‘’Ullo!’ I ses, going up to ’im. ‘I thought you ’ad gorn ’ome.’ + +“‘I was going,’ he ses, with a nasty oily little smile, ‘and then it +struck me all of a sudden ’ow lonely it was for you all alone ’ere, and +I come back to keep you company.’ + +“He winked at something acrost the river as ’e spoke, and I stood there +thinking my ’ardest wot was the best thing to be done. I couldn’t get +Mrs. Pratt away while ’e was there; besides which I felt quite sartain +she wouldn’t go. The only ’ope I ’ad was that he’d get tired of spying +on me and go away before he found out she was ’iding on the wharf. + +“I walked off in a unconcerned way—not too far—and, with one eye on ’im +and the other on where Mrs. Pratt was ’iding, went on with my work. +There’s nothing like ’ard work when a man is worried, and I was a’most +forgetting my troubles, when I looked up and saw the Monarch coming up +the river. + +“She turned to come into ’er berth, with the skipper shouting away on +the bridge and making as much fuss as if ’e was berthing a liner. I +helped to make ’er fast, and the skipper, arter ’e had ’ad a good look +round to see wot ’e could find fault with, went below to clean ’imself. + +“He was up agin in about ten minutes, with a clean collar and a clean +face, and a blue neck-tie that looked as though it ’ad got yeller +measles. Good temper ’e was in, too, and arter pulling the office-boy’s +ear, gentle, as ’e was passing, he stopped for a moment to ’ave a word +with ’im. + +“‘Bit late, ain’t you?’ he ses. + +“‘I’ve been keeping a eye on the watchman,’ ses the boy. ‘He works +better when ’e knows there’s somebody watching ’im.’ + +“‘Look ’ere!’ I ses. ‘You take yourself off; I’ve had about enough of +you. You take your little face ’ome and ask your mother to wipe its +nose. Strickly speaking, you’ve no right to be on the wharf at all at +this time.’ + +“‘I’ve as much right as other people,’ he ses, giving me a wicked look. +‘I’ve got more right than some people, p’r’aps.’ + +“He stooped down deliberate and, picking up a bit o’ coke from the ’eap +by the crane, pitched it over at the empties. + +“‘Stop that!’ I ses, shouting at ’im. + +“‘What for?’ ’e ses, shying another piece. ‘Why shouldn’t I?’ + +“’Cos I won’t ’ave it,’ I ses. ‘D’ye hear? Stop it!’ + +“I rushed at ’im as he sent another piece over, and for the next two or +three minutes ’e was dodging me and chucking coke at the empties, with +the fool of a skipper standing by laughing, and two or three of the +crew leaning over the side and cheering ’im on. + +“‘All right,’ he ses, at last, dusting ’is hands together. ‘I’ve +finished. There’s no need to make such a fuss over a bit of coke.’ + +“‘You’ve wasted pretty near arf a ’undered-weight,’ I ses. ‘I’ve a good +mind to report you.’ + +“‘Don’t do that, watchman!’ he ses, in a pitiful voice. ‘Don’t do that! +’Ere, I tell you wot I’ll do. I’ll pick it all up agin.’ + +“Afore I could move ’and or foot he ’ad shifted a couple o’ cases out +of ’is way and was in among the empties. I stood there dazed-like while +two bits o’ coke came flying back past my ’ed; then I ’eard a loud +whistle, and ’e came out agin with ’is eyes rolling and ’is mouth wide +open. + +“‘Wot’s the matter?’ ses the skipper, staring at ’im. + +“‘I—I—I’m sorry, watchman,’ ses that beast of a boy, purtending ’e was +’ardly able to speak. ‘I’d no idea——’ + +“‘All right,’ I ses, very quick. + +“‘Wot’s the matter?’ ses the skipper agin; and as ’e spoke it came over +me like a flash wot a false persition I was in, and wot a +nasty-tempered man ’e could be when ’e liked. + +“‘Why didn’t you tell me you’d got a lady-friend there?’ ses the boy, +shaking his ’ed at me. ‘Why, I might ’ave hit ’er with a bit o’ coke, +and never forgiven myself!’ + +“‘Lady-friend!’ ses the skipper, with a start. ‘Oh, Bill, I am +surprised!’ + +“My throat was so dry I couldn’t ’ardly speak. ‘It’s my missis,’ I ses, +at last. + +“‘Your missis?’ ses the skipper. ‘Woes she ’iding behind there for?’ + +“‘She—she’s shy,’ I ses. ‘Always was, all ’er life. She can’t bear +other people. She likes to be alone with me.’ + +“‘Oh, watchman!’ ses the boy. ‘I wonder where you expect to go to?’ + +“‘Missis my grandmother!’ ses the skipper, with a wink. ‘I’m going to +’ave a peep.’ + +“‘Stand back!’ I ses, pushing ’im off. ‘I don’t spy on you, and I don’t +want you to come spying on me. You get off! D’ye hear me? Get off!’ + +“We had a bit of a struggle, till my foot slipped, and while I was +waving my arms and trying to get my balance back ’e made a dash for the +empties. Next moment he was roaring like a mad bull that ’ad sat down +in a sorsepan of boiling water, and rushing back agin to kill me. + +“I believe that if it ’adn’t ha’ been for a couple o’ lightermen wot +’ad just come on to the jetty from their skiff, and two of his own +’ands, he’d ha’ done it. Crazy with passion ’e was, and it was all the +four of ’em could do to hold ’im. Every now and then he’d get a yard +nearer to me, and then they’d pull ’im back a couple o’ yards and beg +of ’im to listen to reason and ’ear wot I ’ad to say. And as soon as I +started and began to tell ’em about ’is lady-friend he broke out worse +than ever. People acrost the river must ha’ wondered wot was ’appening. +There was two lightermen, two sailormen, me and the skipper, and Mrs. +Pratt all talking at once, and nobody listening but the office-boy. And +in the middle of it all the wicket was pushed open and the ’ed of the +lady wot all the trouble was about peeped in, and drew back agin. + +“‘There you are!’ I ses, shouting my ’ardest. ‘There she is. That’s the +lady I was telling you about. Now, then: put ’em face to face and clear +my character. Don’t let ’er escape.’ + +“One o’ the lightermen let go o’ the skipper and went arter ’er, and, +just as I was giving the other three a helping ’and, ’e came back with +’er. Mrs. Pratt caught ’er breath, and as for the skipper, ’e didn’t +know where to look, as the saying is. I just saw the lady give ’im one +quick look, and then afore I could dream of wot was coming, she rushes +up to me and flings ’er long, bony arms round my neck. + +“‘Why, William!’ she ses, ‘wot’s the matter? Why didn’t you meet me? +Didn’t you get my letter? Or ’ave you ceased to care for me?” + +“‘Let go!’ I ses, struggling. ‘Let go! D’ye ’ear? Wot d’ye mean by it? +You’ve got ’old of the wrong one.’ + +“‘Oh, William!’ she ses, arf strangling me. ‘’Ow can you talk to me +like that? Where’s your ’art?’ + +“I never knew a woman so strong. I don’t suppose she’d ever ’ad the +chance of getting ’er arms round a man’s neck afore, and she hung on to +me as if she’d never let go. And all the time I was trying to explain +things to them over ’er shoulder I could see they didn’t believe a word +I was saying. One o’ the lightermen said I was a ‘wonder,’ and the +other said I was a ‘fair cough-drop.’ Me! + +“She got tired of it at last, but by that time I was so done up I +couldn’t say a word. I just dropped on to a box and sat there getting +my breath back while the skipper forgave ’is wife for ’er unjust +suspicions of ’im—but told ’er not to do it agin—and the office-boy was +saying I’d surprised even ’im. The last I saw of the lady-friend, the +two lightermen was helping ’er to walk to the gate, and the two +sailormen was follering ’er up behind, carrying ’er pocket-’ankercher +and upberella.” + + + + +STRIKING HARD + + +You’ve what?” demanded Mrs. Porter, placing the hot iron carefully on +its stand and turning a heated face on the head of the family. + +“Struck,” repeated Mr. Porter; “and the only wonder to me is we’ve +stood it so long as we have. If I was to tell you all we’ve ’ad to put +up with I don’t suppose you’d believe me.” + +“Very likely,” was the reply. “You can keep your fairy-tales for them +that like ’em. They’re no good to me.” + +“We stood it till flesh and blood could stand it no longer,” declared +her husband, “and at last we came out, shoulder to shoulder, singing. +The people cheered us, and one of our leaders made ’em a speech.” + +“I should have liked to ’ave heard the singing,” remarked his wife. “If +they all sang like you, it must ha’ been as good as a pantermime! Do +you remember the last time you went on strike?” + +“This is different,” said Mr. Porter, with dignity. + +“All our things went, bit by bit,” pursued his wife, “all the money we +had put by for a rainy day, and we ’ad to begin all over again. What +are we going to live on? O’ course, you might earn something by singing +in the street; people who like funny faces might give you something! +Why not go upstairs and put your ’ead under the bed-clothes and +practise a bit?” + +Mr. Porter coughed. “It’ll be all right,” he said, confidently. “Our +committee knows what it’s about; Bert Robinson is one of the best +speakers I’ve ever ’eard. If we don’t all get five bob a week more I’ll +eat my ’ead.” + +“It’s the best thing you could do with it,” snapped his wife. She took +up her iron again, and turning an obstinate back to his remarks resumed +her work. + +Mr. Porter lay long next morning, and, dressing with comfortable +slowness, noticed with pleasure that the sun was shining. Visions of a +good breakfast and a digestive pipe, followed by a walk in the fresh +air, passed before his eyes as he laced his boots. Whistling cheerfully +he went briskly downstairs. + +It was an October morning, but despite the invigorating chill in the +air the kitchen-grate was cold and dull. Herring-bones and a disorderly +collection of dirty cups and platters graced the table. Perplexed and +angry, he looked around for his wife, and then, opening the back-door, +stood gaping with astonishment. The wife of his bosom, who should have +had a bright fire and a good breakfast waiting for him, was sitting on +a box in the sunshine, elbows on knees and puffing laboriously at a +cigarette. + +“Susan!” he exclaimed. + +Mrs. Porter turned, and, puffing out her lips, blew an immense volume +of smoke. “Halloa!” she said, carelessly. + +“Wot—wot does this mean?” demanded her husband. + +Mrs. Porter smiled with conscious pride. “I made it come out of my nose +just now,” she replied. “At least, some of it did, and I swallowed the +rest. Will it hurt me?” + +“Where’s my breakfast?” inquired the other, hotly. “Why ain’t the +kitchen-fire alight? Wot do you think you’re doing of?” + +“I’m not doing anything,” said his wife, with an aggrieved air. “I’m on +strike.” + +Mr. Porter reeled against the door-post. “Wot!” he stammered. “On +strike? Nonsense! You can’t be.” + +“O, yes, I can,” retorted Mrs. Porter, closing one eye and ministering +to it hastily with the corner of her apron. “Not ’aving no Bert +Robinson to do it for me, I made a little speech all to myself, and +here I am.” + +She dropped her apron, replaced the cigarette, and, with her hands on +her plump knees, eyes him steadily. + +“But—but this ain’t a factory,” objected the dismayed man; “and, +besides —I won’t ’ave it!” + +Mrs. Porter laughed—a fat, comfortable laugh, but with a touch of +hardness in it. + +“All right, mate,” she said, comfortably. “What are you out on strike +for?” + +“Shorter hours and more money,” said Mr. Porter, glaring at her. + +His wife nodded. “So am I,” she said. “I wonder who gets it first?” + +She smiled agreeably at the bewildered Mr. Porter, and, extracting a +paper packet of cigarettes from her pocket, lit a fresh one at the stub +of the first. + +“That’s the worst of a woman,” said her husband, avoiding her eye and +addressing a sanitary dustbin of severe aspect; “they do things without +thinking first. That’s why men are superior; before they do a thing +they look at it all round, and upside down, and—and—make sure it can be +done. Now, you get up in a temper this morning, and the first thing you +do—not even waiting to get my breakfast ready first—is to go on strike. +If you’d thought for two minutes you’d see as ’ow it’s impossible for +you to go on strike for more than a couple of hours or so.” + +“Why?” inquired Mrs. Porter. + +“Kids,” replied her husband, triumphantly. “They’ll be coming ’ome from +school soon, won’t they? And they’ll be wanting their dinner, won’t +they?” + +“That’s all right,” murmured the other, vaguely. + +“After which, when night comes,” pursued Mr. Porter, “they’ll ’ave to +be put to bed. In the morning they’ll ’ave to be got up and washed and +dressed and given their breakfast and sent off to school. Then there’s +shopping wot must be done, and beds wot must be made.” + +“I’ll make ours,” said his wife, decidedly. “For my own sake.” + +“And wot about the others?” inquired Mr. Porter. + +“The others’ll be made by the same party as washes the children, and +cooks their dinner for ’em, and puts ’em to bed, and cleans the ’ouse,” +was the reply. + +“I’m not going to have your mother ’ere,” exclaimed Mr. Porter, with +sudden heat. “Mind that!” + +“I don’t want her,” said Mrs. Porter. “It’s a job for a strong, healthy +man, not a pore old thing with swelled legs and short in the breath.” + +“Strong—’ealthy—man!” repeated her husband, in a dazed voice. +“Strong—’eal—— Wot are you talking about?” + +Mrs. Porter beamed on him. “You,” she said, sweetly. + +There was a long silence, broken at last by a firework display of +expletives. Mrs. Porter, still smiling, sat unmoved. + +“You may smile!” raved the indignant Mr. Porter. “You may sit there +smiling and smoking like a—like a man, but if you think that I’m going +to get the meals ready, and soil my ’ands with making beds and +washing-up, you’re mistook. There’s some ’usbands I know as would set +about you!” + +Mrs. Porter rose. “Well, I can’t sit here gossiping with you all day,” +she said, entering the house. + +“Wot are you going to do?” demanded her husband, following her. + +“Going to see Aunt Jane and ’ave a bit o’ dinner with her,” was the +reply. “And after that I think I shall go to the ‘pictures.’ If you +’ave bloaters for dinner be very careful with little Jemmy and the +bones.” + +“I forbid you to leave this ’ouse!” said Mr. Porter, in a thrilling +voice. “If you do you won’t find nothing done when you come home, and +all the kids dirty and starving.” + +“Cheerio!” said Mrs. Porter. + +Arrayed in her Sunday best she left the house half an hour later. A +glance over her shoulder revealed her husband huddled up in a chair in +the dirty kitchen, gazing straight before him at the empty grate. + +He made a hearty breakfast at a neighbouring coffee-shop, and, +returning home, lit the fire and sat before it, smoking. The return of +the four children from school, soon after midday, found him still +wrestling with the difficulties of the situation. His announcement that +their mother was out and that there would be no dinner was received at +first in stupefied silence. Then Jemmy, opening his mouth to its widest +extent, acted as conductor to an all-too-willing chorus. + +The noise was unbearable, and Mr. Porter said so. Pleased with the +tribute, the choir re-doubled its efforts, and Mr. Porter, vociferating +orders for silence, saw only too clearly the base advantage his wife +had taken of his affection for his children. He took some money from +his pocket and sent the leading treble out marketing, after which, with +the assistance of a soprano aged eight, he washed up the breakfast +things and placed one of them in the dustbin. + +The entire family stood at his elbow as he cooked the dinner, and +watched, with bated breath, his frantic efforts to recover a sausage +which had fallen out of the frying-pan into the fire. A fourfold sigh +of relief heralded its return to the pan. + +“Mother always—” began the eldest boy. + +Mr. Porter took his scorched fingers out of his mouth and smacked the +critic’s head. + +The dinner was not a success. Portions of half-cooked sausages returned +to the pan, and coming back in the guise of cinders failed to find +their rightful owners. + +“Last time we had sausages,” said the eight-year-old Muriel, “they +melted in your mouth.” Mr. Porter glowered at her. + +“Instead of in the fire,” said the eldest boy, with a mournful snigger. + +“If I get up to you, my lad,” said the harassed Mr. Porter, “you’ll +know it! Pity you don’t keep your sharpness for your lessons! Wot +country is Africa in?” + +“Why, Africa’s a continent!” said the startled youth. + +“Jes so,” said his father; “but wot I’m asking you is: wot country is +it in?” + +“Asia,” said the reckless one, with a side-glance at Muriel. + +“And why couldn’t you say so before?” demanded Mr. Porter, sternly. +“Now, you go to the sink and give yourself a thorough good wash. And +mind you come straight home from school. There’s work to be done.” + +He did some of it himself after the children had gone, and finished up +the afternoon with a little shopping, in the course of which he twice +changed his grocer and was threatened with an action for slander by his +fishmonger. He returned home with his clothes bulging, although a +couple of eggs in the left-hand coat-pocket had done their best to +accommodate themselves to his figure. + +He went to bed at eleven o’clock, and at a quarter past, clad all too +lightly for the job, sped rapidly downstairs to admit his wife. + +“Some ’usbands would ’ave let you sleep on the doorstep all night,” he +said, crisply. + +“I know they would,” returned his wife, cheerfully. “That’s why I +married you. I remember the first time I let you come ’ome with me, +mother ses: ‘There ain’t much of ’im, Susan,’ she ses; ‘still, arf a +loaf is better than—’” + +The bedroom-door slammed behind the indignant Mr. Porter, and the three +lumps and a depression which had once been a bed received his quivering +frame again. With the sheet obstinately drawn over his head he turned a +deaf ear to his wife’s panegyrics on striking and her heartfelt tribute +to the end of a perfect day. Even when standing on the cold floor while +she remade the bed he maintained an attitude of unbending dignity, only +relaxing when she smote him light-heartedly with the bolster. In a few +ill-chosen words he expressed his opinion of her mother and her +deplorable methods of bringing up her daughters. + +He rose early next morning, and, after getting his own breakfast, put +on his cap and went out, closing the street-door with a bang that awoke +the entire family and caused the somnolent Mrs. Porter to open one eye +for the purpose of winking with it. Slowly, as became a man of leisure, +he strolled down to the works, and, moving from knot to knot of his +colleagues, discussed the prospects of victory. Later on, with a little +natural diffidence, he drew Mr. Bert Robinson apart and asked his +advice upon a situation which was growing more and more difficult. + +“I’ve got my hands pretty full as it is, you know,” said Mr. Robinson, +hastily. + +“I know you ’ave, Bert,” murmured the other. “But, you see, she told me +last night she’s going to try and get some of the other chaps’ wives to +join ’er, so I thought I ought to tell you.” + +Mr. Robinson started. “Have you tried giving her a hiding?” he +inquired. + +Mr. Porter shook his head. “I daren’t trust myself,” he replied. “I +might go too far, once I started.” + +“What about appealing to her better nature?” inquired the other. + +“She ain’t got one,” said the unfortunate. “Well, I’m sorry for you,” +said Mr. Robinson, “but I’m busy. I’ve got to see a Labour-leader this +afternoon, and two reporters, and this evening there’s the meeting. Try +kindness first, and if that don’t do, lock her up in her bedroom and +keep her on bread and water.” + +He moved off to confer with his supporters, and Mr. Porter, after +wandering aimlessly about for an hour or two, returned home at mid-day +with a faint hope that his wife might have seen the error of her ways +and provided dinner for him. He found the house empty and the beds +unmade. The remains of breakfast stood on the kitchen-table, and a +puddle of cold tea decorated the floor. The arrival of the children +from school, hungry and eager, completed his discomfiture. + +For several days he wrestled grimly with the situation, while Mrs. +Porter, who had planned out her week into four days of charing, two of +amusement, and Sunday in bed, looked on with smiling approval. She even +offered to give him a little instruction—verbal—in scrubbing the +kitchen-floor. + +Mr. Porter, who was on his knees at the time, rose slowly to his full +height, and, with a superb gesture, emptied the bucket, which also +contained a scrubbing-brush and lump of soap, into the back-yard. Then +he set off down the street in quest of a staff. + +He found it in the person of Maudie Stevens, aged fourteen, who lived a +few doors lower down. Fresh from school the week before, she cheerfully +undertook to do the housework and cooking, and to act as nursemaid in +her spare time. Her father, on his part, cheerfully under-took to take +care of her wages for her, the first week’s, payable in advance, being +banked the same evening at the Lord Nelson. + +It was another mouth to feed, but the strike-pay was coming in very +well, and Mr. Porter, relieved from his unmanly tasks, walked the +streets a free man. Beds were made without his interference, meals were +ready (roughly) at the appointed hour, and for the first time since the +strike he experienced satisfaction in finding fault with the cook. The +children’s content was not so great, Maudie possessing a faith in the +virtues of soap and water that they made no attempt to share. They were +greatly relieved when their mother returned home after spending a +couple of days with Aunt Jane. + +“What’s all this?” she demanded, as she entered the kitchen, followed +by a lady-friend. + +“What’s all what?” inquired Mr. Porter, who was sitting at dinner with +the family. + +“That,” said his wife, pointing at the cook-general. + +Mr. Porter put down his knife and fork. “Got ’er in to help,” he +replied, uneasily. + +“Do you hear that?” demanded his wife, turning to her friend, Mrs. +Gorman. “Oh, these masters!” + +“Ah!” said her friend, vaguely. + +“A strike-breaker!” said Mrs. Porter, rolling her eyes. + +“Shame!” said Mrs. Gorman, beginning to understand. + +“Coming after my job, and taking the bread out of my mouth,” continued +Mrs. Porter, fluently. “Underselling me too, I’ll be bound. That’s what +comes of not having pickets.” + +“Unskilled labour,” said Mrs. Gorman, tightening her lips and shaking +her head. + +“A scab!” cried Mrs. Porter, wildly. “A scab!” + +“Put her out,” counselled her friend. + +“Put her out!” repeated Mrs. Porter, in a terrible voice. “Put her out! +I’ll tear her limb from limb! I’ll put her in the copper and boil her!” + +Her voice was so loud and her appearance so alarming that the +unfortunate Maudie, emitting three piercing shrieks, rose hastily from +the table and looked around for a way of escape. The road to the +front-door was barred, and with a final yelp that set her employer’s +teeth on edge she dashed into the yard and went home via the +back-fences. Housewives busy in their kitchens looked up in amazement +at the spectacle of a pair of thin black legs descending one fence, +scudding across the yard to the accompaniment of a terrified moaning, +and scrambling madly over the other. At her own back-door Maudie +collapsed on the step, and, to the intense discomfort and annoyance of +her father, had her first fit of hysterics. + +“And the next scab that comes into my house won’t get off so easy,” +said Mrs. Porter to her husband. “D’you understand?” + +“If you ’ad some husbands—” began Mr. Porter, trembling with rage. + +“Yes, I know,” said his wife, nodding. “Don’t cry, Jemmy,” she added, +taking the youngest on her knee. “Mother’s only having a little game. +She and dad are both on strike for more pay and less work.” + +Mr. Porter got up, and without going through the formality of saying +good-bye to the hard-featured Mrs. Gorman, put on his cap and went out. +Over a couple of half-pints taken as a sedative, he realized the +growing seriousness of his position. + +In a dull resigned fashion he took up his household duties again, made +harder now than before by the scandalous gossip of the aggrieved Mr. +Stevens. The anonymous present of a much-worn apron put the finishing +touch to his discomfiture; and the well-meant offer of a fair neighbour +to teach him how to shake a mat without choking himself met with a +reception that took her breath away. + +It was a surprise to him one afternoon to find that his wife had so far +unbent as to tidy up the parlour. Ornaments had been dusted and +polished and the carpet swept. She had even altered the position of the +furniture. The table had been pushed against the wall, and the +easy-chair, with its back to the window, stood stiffly confronting six +or seven assorted chairs, two of which at least had been promoted from +a lower sphere. + +“It’s for the meeting,” said Muriel, peeping in. + +“Meeting?” repeated her father, in a dazed voice. + +“Strike-meetings,” was the reply. “Mrs. Gorman and some other ladies +are coming at four o’clock. Didn’t mother tell you?” + +Mr. Porter, staring helplessly at the row of chairs, shook his head. + +“Mrs. Evans is coming,” continued Muriel, in a hushed voice—“the lady +what punched Mr. Brown because he kept Bobbie Evans in one day. He +ain’t been kept in since. I wish you——” + +She stopped suddenly, and, held by her father’s gaze, backed slowly out +of the room. Mr. Porter, left with the chairs, stood regarding them +thoughtfully. Their emptiness made an appeal that no right-minded man +could ignore. He put his hand over his mouth and his eyes watered. + +He spent the next half-hour in issuing invitations, and at half-past +three every chair was filled by fellow-strikers. Three cans of beer, +clay pipes, and a paper of shag stood on the table. Mr. Benjamin Todd, +an obese, fresh-coloured gentleman of middle age, took the easy-chair. +Glasses and teacups were filled. + +“Gentlemen,” said Mr. Todd, lighting his pipe, “afore we get on to the +business of this meeting I want to remind you that there is another +meeting, of ladies, at four o’clock; so we’ve got to hurry up. O’ +course, if it should happen that we ain’t finished——” + +“Go on, Bennie!” said a delighted admirer. “I see a female ’ead peeping +in at the winder already,” said a voice. + +“Let ’em peep,” said Mr. Todd, benignly. “Then p’r’aps they’ll be able +to see how to run a meeting.” + +“There’s two more ’eads,” said the other. “Oh, Lord, I know I sha’n’t +be able to keep a straight face!” + +“H’sh!” commanded Mr. Todd, sternly, as the street-door was heard to +open. “Be’ave yourself. As I was saying, the thing we’ve got to +consider about this strike——” + +The door opened, and six ladies, headed by Mrs. Porter, entered the +room in single file and ranged themselves silently along the wall. + +“Strike,” proceeded Mr. Todd, who found himself gazing uneasily into +the eyes of Mrs. Gorman——“strike—er—strike——” + +“He said that before,” said a stout lady, in a loud whisper; “I’m sure +he did.” + +“Is,” continued Mr. Todd, “that we have got to keep this—this—er—” + +“Strike,” prompted the same voice. + +Mr. Todd paused, and, wiping his mouth with a red pocket-handkerchief, +sat staring straight before him. + +“I move,” said Mrs. Evans, her sharp features twitching with +excitement, “that Mrs. Gorman takes the chair.” + +“’Ow can I take it when he’s sitting in it?” demanded that lady. + +“She’s a lady that knows what she wants and how to get it,” pursued +Mrs. Evans, unheeding. “She understands men—” + +“I’ve buried two ’usbands,” murmured Mrs. Gorman, nodding. + +“And how to manage them,” continued Mrs. Evans. “I move that Mrs. +Gorman takes the chair. Those in favour—” + +Mr. Todd, leaning back in his chair and gripping the arms, gazed +defiantly at a row of palms. + +“Carried unanimously!” snapped Mrs. Evans. + +Mrs. Gorman, tall and bony, advanced and stood over Mr. Todd. Strong +men held their breath. + +“It’s my chair,” she said, gruffly. “I’ve been moved into it.” + +“Possession,” said Mr. Todd, in as firm a voice as he could manage, “is +nine points of the law. I’m here and—” + +Mrs. Gorman turned, and, without the slightest warning, sat down +suddenly and heavily in his lap. A hum of admiration greeted the +achievement. + +“Get up!” shouted the horrified Mr. Todd. “Get up!” + +Mrs. Gorman settled herself more firmly. + +“Let me get up,” said Mr. Todd, panting. + +Mrs. Gorman rose, but remained in a hovering position, between which +and the chair Mr. Todd, flushed and dishevelled, extricated himself in +all haste. A shrill titter of laughter and a clapping of hands greeted +his appearance. He turned furiously on the pallid Mr. Porter. + +“What d’you mean by it?” he demanded. “Are you the master, or ain’t +you? A man what can’t keep order in his own house ain’t fit to be +called a man. If my wife was carrying on like this——” + +“I wish I was your wife,” said Mrs. Gorman, moistening her lips. + +Mr. Todd turned slowly and surveyed her. + +“I don’t,” he said, simply, and, being by this time near the door, +faded gently from the room. + +“Order!” cried Mrs. Gorman, thumping the arm of her chair with a large, +hard-working fist. “Take your seats, ladies.” + +A strange thrill passed through the bodies of her companions and +communicated itself to the men in the chairs. There was a moment’s +tense pause, and then the end man, muttering something about “going to +see what had happened to poor old Ben Todd,” rose slowly and went out. +His companions, with heads erect and a look of cold disdain upon their +faces, followed him. + +It was Mr. Porter’s last meeting, but his wife had several more. They +lasted, in fact, until the day, a fortnight later, when he came in with +flushed face and sparkling eyes to announce that the strike was over +and the men victorious. + +“Six bob a week more!” he said, with enthusiasm. “You see, I was right +to strike, after all.” + +Mrs. Porter eyed him. “I am out for four bob a week more,” she said, +calmly. + +Her husband swallowed. “You—you don’t understand ’ow these things are +done,” he said, at last. “It takes time. We ought to ne—negotiate.” + +“All right,” said Mrs. Porter, readily. “Seven shillings a week, then.” + +“Let’s say four and have done with it,” exclaimed the other, hastily. + +And Mrs. Porter said it. + + + + +DIRTY WORK + + +It was nearly high-water, and the night-watchman, who had stepped +aboard a lighter lying alongside the wharf to smoke a pipe, sat with +half-closed eyes enjoying the summer evening. The bustle of the day was +over, the wharves were deserted, and hardly a craft moved on the river. +Perfumed clouds of shag, hovering for a time over the lighter, floated +lazily towards the Surrey shore. + +“There’s one thing about my job,” said the night-watchman, slowly, +“it’s done all alone by yourself. There’s no foreman a-hollering at you +and offering you a penny for your thoughts, and no mates to run into +you from behind with a loaded truck and then ask you why you didn’t +look where you’re going to. From six o’clock in the evening to six +o’clock next morning I’m my own master.” + +He rammed down the tobacco with an experienced forefinger and puffed +contentedly. + +People like you ’ud find it lonely (he continued, after a pause); I did +at fust. I used to let people come and sit ’ere with me of an evening +talking, but I got tired of it arter a time, and when one chap fell +overboard while ’e was showing me ’ow he put his wife’s mother in ’er +place, I gave it up altogether. There was three foot o’ mud in the dock +at the time, and arter I ’ad got ’im out, he fainted in my arms. + +Arter that I kept myself to myself. Say wot you like, a man’s best +friend is ’imself. There’s nobody else’ll do as much for ’im, or let +’im off easier when he makes a mistake. If I felt a bit lonely I used +to open the wicket in the gate and sit there watching the road, and +p’r’aps pass a word or two with the policeman. Then something ’appened +one night that made me take quite a dislike to it for a time. + +I was sitting there with my feet outside, smoking a quiet pipe, when I +’eard a bit of a noise in the distance. Then I ’eard people running and +shouts of “Stop, thief!” A man came along round the corner full pelt, +and, just as I got up, dashed through the wicket and ran on to the +wharf. I was arter ’im like a shot and got up to ’im just in time to +see him throw something into the dock. And at the same moment I ’eard +the other people run past the gate. + +“Wot’s up?” I ses, collaring ’im. + +“Nothing,” he ses, breathing ’ard and struggling. “Let me go.” + +He was a little wisp of a man, and I shook ’im like a dog shakes a rat. +I remembered my own pocket being picked, and I nearly shook the breath +out of ’im. + +“And now I’m going to give you in charge,” I ses, pushing ’im along +towards the gate. + +“Wot for?” he ses, purtending to be surprised. + +“Stealing,” I ses. + +“You’ve made a mistake,” he ses; “you can search me if you like.” + +“More use to search the dock,” I ses. “I see you throw it in. Now you +keep quiet, else you’ll get ’urt. If you get five years I shall be all +the more pleased.” + +I don’t know ’ow he did it, but ’e did. He seemed to sink away between +my legs, and afore I knew wot was ’appening, I was standing upside down +with all the blood rushing to my ’ead. As I rolled over he bolted +through the wicket, and was off like a flash of lightning. + +A couple o’ minutes arterwards the people wot I ’ad ’eard run past came +back agin. There was a big fat policeman with ’em—a man I’d seen afore +on the beat—and, when they ’ad gorn on, he stopped to ’ave a word with +me. + +“’Ot work,” he ses, taking off his ’elmet and wiping his bald ’ead with +a large red handkerchief. “I’ve lost all my puff.” + +“Been running?” I ses, very perlite. + +“Arter a pickpocket,” he ses. “He snatched a lady’s purse just as she +was stepping aboard the French boat with her ’usband. ‘Twelve pounds in +it in gold, two peppermint lozenges, and a postage stamp.’” + +He shook his ’ead, and put his ’elmet on agin. + +“Holding it in her little ’and as usual,” he ses. “Asking for trouble, +I call it. I believe if a woman ’ad one hand off and only a finger and +thumb left on the other, she’d carry ’er purse in it.” + +He knew a’most as much about wimmen as I do. When ’is fust wife died, +she said ’er only wish was that she could take ’im with her, and she +made ’im promise her faithful that ’e’d never marry agin. His second +wife, arter a long illness, passed away while he was playing hymns on +the concertina to her, and ’er mother, arter looking at ’er very hard, +went to the doctor and said she wanted an inquest. + +He went on talking for a long time, but I was busy doing a bit of +’ead-work and didn’t pay much attention to ’im. I was thinking o’ +twelve pounds, two lozenges, and a postage stamp laying in the mud at +the bottom of my dock, and arter a time ’e said ’e see as ’ow I was +waiting to get back to my night’s rest, and went off—stamping. + +I locked the wicket when he ’ad gorn away, and then I went to the edge +of the dock and stood looking down at the spot where the purse ’ad been +chucked in. The tide was on the ebb, but there was still a foot or two +of water atop of the mud. I walked up and down, thinking. + +I thought for a long time, and then I made up my mind. If I got the +purse and took it to the police-station, the police would share the +money out between ’em, and tell me they ’ad given it back to the lady. +If I found it and put a notice in the newspaper—which would cost +money—very likely a dozen or two ladies would come and see me and say +it was theirs. Then if I gave it to the best-looking one and the one it +belonged to turned up, there’d be trouble. My idea was to keep it—for a +time—and then if the lady who lost it came to me and asked me for it I +would give it to ’er. + +Once I had made up my mind to do wot was right I felt quite ’appy, and +arter a look up and down, I stepped round to the Bear’s Head and ’ad a +couple o’ goes o’ rum to keep the cold out. There was nobody in there +but the landlord, and ’e started at once talking about the thief, and +’ow he ’ad run arter him in ’is shirt-sleeves. + +“My opinion is,” he ses, “that ’e bolted on one of the wharves and ’id +’imself. He disappeared like magic. Was that little gate o’ yours +open?” + +“I was on the wharf,” I ses, very cold. + +“You might ha’ been on the wharf and yet not ’ave seen anybody come +on,” he ses, nodding. + +“Wot d’ye mean?” I ses, very sharp. “Nothing,” he ses. “Nothing.” + +“Are you trying to take my character away?” I ses, fixing ’im with my +eye. + +“Lo’ bless me, no!” he ses, staring at me. “It’s no good to me.” + +He sat down in ’is chair behind the bar and went straight off to sleep +with his eyes screwed up as tight as they would go. Then ’e opened his +mouth and snored till the glasses shook. I suppose I’ve been one of the +best customers he ever ’ad, and that’s the way he treated me. For two +pins I’d ha’ knocked ’is ugly ’ead off, but arter waking him up very +sudden by dropping my glass on the floor I went off back to the wharf. + +I locked up agin, and ’ad another look at the dock. The water ’ad +nearly gone and the mud was showing in patches. My mind went back to a +sailorman wot had dropped ’is watch over-board two years before, and +found it by walking about in the dock in ’is bare feet. He found it +more easy because the glass broke when he trod on it. + +The evening was a trifle chilly for June, but I’ve been used to +roughing it all my life, especially when I was afloat, and I went into +the office and began to take my clothes off. I took off everything but +my pants, and I made sure o’ them by making braces for ’em out of a bit +of string. Then I turned the gas low, and, arter slipping on my boots, +went outside. + +It was so cold that at fust I thought I’d give up the idea. The longer +I stood on the edge looking at the mud the colder it looked, but at +last I turned round and went slowly down the ladder. I waited a moment +at the bottom, and was just going to step off when I remembered that I +’ad got my boots on, and I ’ad to go up agin and take ’em off. + +I went down very slow the next time, and anybody who ’as been down an +iron ladder with thin, cold rungs, in their bare feet, will know why, +and I had just dipped my left foot in, when the wharf-bell rang. + +I ’oped at fust that it was a runaway-ring, but it kept on, and the +longer it kept on, the worse it got. I went up that ladder agin and +called out that I was coming, and then I went into the office and just +slipped on my coat and trousers and went to the gate. + +“Wot d’you want?” I ses, opening the wicket three or four inches and +looking out at a man wot was standing there. + +“Are you old Bill?” he ses. + +“I’m the watchman,” I ses, sharp-like. “Wot d’you want?” + +“Don’t bite me!” he ses, purtending to draw back. “I ain’t done no +’arm. I’ve come round about that glass you smashed at the Bear’s Head.” + +“Glass!” I ses, ’ardly able to speak. + +“Yes, glass,” he ses—“thing wot yer drink out of. The landlord says +it’ll cost you a tanner, and ’e wants it now in case you pass away in +your sleep. He couldn’t come ’imself cos he’s got nobody to mind the +bar, so ’e sent me. Why! Halloa! Where’s your boots? Ain’t you afraid +o’ ketching cold?” + +“You clear off,” I ses, shouting at him. “D’ye ’ear me? Clear off while +you’re safe, and you tell the landlord that next time ’e insults me +I’ll smash every glass in ’is place and then sit ’im on top of ’cm! +Tell ’im if ’e wants a tanner out o’ me, to come round ’imself, and see +wot he gets.” + +It was a silly thing to say, and I saw it arterwards, but I was in such +a temper I ’ardly knew wot I was saying. I slammed the wicket in ’is +face and turned the key and then I took off my clothes and went down +that ladder agin. + +It seemed colder than ever, and the mud when I got fairly into it was +worse than I thought it could ha’ been. It stuck to me like glue, and +every step I took seemed colder than the one before. ’Owever, when I +make up my mind to do a thing, I do it. I fixed my eyes on the place +where I thought the purse was, and every time I felt anything under my +foot I reached down and picked it up—and then chucked it away as far as +I could so as not to pick it up agin. Dirty job it was, too, and in +five minutes I was mud up to the neck, a’most. And I ’ad just got to +wot I thought was the right place, and feeling about very careful, when +the bell rang agin. + +I thought I should ha’ gorn out o’ my mind. It was just a little tinkle +at first, then another tinkle, but, as I stood there all in the dark +and cold trying to make up my mind to take no notice of it, it began to +ring like mad. I ’ad to go—I’ve known men climb over the gate afore +now—and I didn’t want to be caught in that dock. + +The mud seemed stickier than ever, but I got out at last, and, arter +scraping some of it off with a bit o’ stick, I put on my coat and +trousers and boots just as I was and went to the gate, with the bell +going its ’ardest all the time. + +When I opened the gate and see the landlord of the Bear’s Head standing +there I turned quite dizzy, and there was a noise in my ears like the +roaring of the sea. I should think I stood there for a couple o’ +minutes without being able to say a word. I could think of ’em. + +“Don’t be frightened, Bill,” ses the landlord. “I’m not going to eat +you.” + +“He looks as if he’s walking in ’is sleep,” ses the fat policeman, wot +was standing near by. “Don’t startle ’im.” + +“He always looks like that,” ses the landlord. + +I stood looking at ’im. I could speak then, but I couldn’t think of any +words good enough; not with a policeman standing by with a notebook in +’is pocket. + +“Wot was you ringing my bell for?” I ses, at last. + +“Why didn’t you answer it before?” ses the landlord. “D’you think I’ve +got nothing better to do than to stand ringing your bell for +three-quarters of an hour? Some people would report you.” + +“I know my dooty,” I ses; “there’s no craft up to-night, and no reason +for anybody to come to my bell. If I was to open the gate every time a +parcel of overgrown boys rang my bell I should ’ave enough to do.” + +“Well, I’ll overlook it this time, seeing as you’re an old man and +couldn’t get another sleeping-in job,” he ses, looking at the policeman +for him to see ’ow clever ’e was. “Wot about that tanner? That’s wot +I’ve come for.” + +“You be off,” I ses, starting to shut the wicket. “You won’t get no +tanner out of me.” + +“All right,” he ses, “I shall stand here and go on ringing the bell +till you pay up, that’s all.” + +He gave it another tug, and the policeman instead of locking ’im up for +it stood there laughing. + +I gave ’im the tanner. It was no use standing there arguing over a +tanner, with a purse of twelve quid waiting for me in the dock, but I +told ’im wot people thought of ’im. + +“Arf a second, watchman,” ses the policeman, as I started to shut the +wicket agin. “You didn’t see anything of that pickpocket, did you?” + +“I did not,” I ses. + +“’Cos this gentleman thought he might ’ave come in here,” ses the +policeman. + +“’Ow could he ’ave come in here without me knowing it?” I ses, firing +up. + +“Easy,” ses the landlord, “and stole your boots into the bargain!” + +“He might ’ave come when your back was turned,” ses the policeman, “and +if so, he might be ’iding there now. I wonder whether you’d mind me +having a look round?” + +“I tell you he ain’t ’ere,” I ses, very short, “but, to ease your mind, +I’ll ’ave a look round myself arter you’ve gorn.” + +The policeman shook his ’ead. “Well, o’ course, I can’t come in without +your permission,” he ses, with a little cough, “but I ’ave an idea, +that if it was your guv’nor ’ere instead of you he’d ha’ been on’y too +pleased to do anything ’e could to help the law. I’ll beg his pardon +tomorrow for asking you, in case he might object.” + +That settled it. That’s the police all over, and that’s ’ow they get +their way and do as they like. I could see ’im in my mind’s eye talking +to the guv’nor, and letting out little things about broken glasses and +such-like by accident. I drew back to let ’im pass, and I was so upset +that when that little rat of a landlord follered ’im I didn’t say a +word. + +I stood and watched them poking and prying about the wharf as if it +belonged to ’em, with the light from the policeman’s lantern flashing +about all over the place. I was shivering with cold and temper. The mud +was drying on me. + +“If you’ve finished ’unting for the pickpocket I’ll let you out and get +on with my work,” I ses, drawing myself up. + +“Good night,” ses the policeman, moving off. “Good night, dear,” ses +the landlord. “Mind you tuck yourself up warm.” + +I lost my temper for the moment and afore I knew wot I was doing I ’ad +got hold of him and was shoving ’im towards the gate as ’ard as I could +shove. He pretty near got my coat off in the struggle, and next moment +the police-man ’ad turned his lantern on me and they was both staring +at me as if they couldn’t believe their eyesight. + +“He—he’s turning black!” ses the landlord. + +“He’s turned black!” ses the policeman. + +They both stood there looking at me with their mouths open, and then +afore I knew wot he was up to, the policeman came close up to me and +scratched my chest with his finger-nail. + +“It’s mud!” he ses. + +“You keep your nails to yourself,” I ses. “It’s nothing to do with +you.” and I couldn’t ’elp noticing the smell of it. Nobody could. And +wot was worse than all was, that the tide ’ad turned and was creeping +over the mud in the dock. + +They got tired of it at last and came back to where I was and stood +there shaking their ’eads at me. + +“If he was on the wharf ’e must ’ave made his escape while you was in +the Bear’s Head,” ses the policeman. + +“He was in my place a long time,” ses the landlord. + +“Well, it’s no use crying over spilt milk,” ses the policeman. “Funny +smell about ’ere, ain’t there?” he ses, sniffing, and turning to the +landlord. “Wot is it?” + +“I dunno,” ses the landlord. “I noticed it while we was talking to ’im +at the gate. It seems to foller ’im about.” + +“I’ve smelt things I like better,” ses the policeman, sniffing agin. +“It’s just like the foreshore when somebody ’as been stirring the mud +up a bit.” + +“Unless it’s a case of ’tempted suicide,” he ses, looking at me very +’ard. + +“Ah!” ses the landlord. + +“There’s no mud on ’is clothes,” ses the policeman, looking me over +with his lantern agin. + +“He must ’ave gone in naked, but I should like to see ’is legs to make— +All right! All right! Keep your ’air on.” + +“You look arter your own legs, then,” I ses, very sharp, “and mind your +own business.” + +“It is my business,” he ses, turning to the landlord. “Was ’e strange +in his manner at all when ’e was in your place to-night?” + +“He smashed one o’ my best glasses,” ses the landlord. + +“So he did,” ses the policeman. “So he did. I’d forgot that. Do you +know ’im well?” + +“Not more than I can ’elp,” ses the landlord. “He’s been in my place a +good bit, but I never knew of any reason why ’e should try and do away +with ’imself. If he’s been disappointed in love, he ain’t told me +anything about it.” + +I suppose that couple o’ fools ’ud ’ave stood there talking about me +all night if I’d ha’ let ’em, but I had about enough of it. + +“Look ’ere,” I ses, “you’re very clever, both of you, but you needn’t +worry your ’eads about me. I’ve just been having a mud-bath, that’s +all.” + +“A mud-bath!” ses both of ’em, squeaking like a couple o’ silly +parrots. + +“For rheumatics,” I ses. “I ’ad it some-thing cruel to-night, and I +thought that p’r’aps the mud ’ud do it good. I read about it in the +papers. There’s places where you pay pounds and pounds for ’em, but, +being a pore man, I ’ad to ’ave mine on the cheap.” + +The policeman stood there looking at me for a moment, and then ’e began +to laugh till he couldn’t stop ’imself. + +“Love-a-duck!” he ses, at last, wiping his eyes. “I wish I’d seen it.” + +“Must ha’ looked like a fat mermaid,” ses the landlord, wagging his +silly ’ead at me. “I can just see old Bill sitting in the mud a-combing +his ’air and singing.” + +They ’ad some more talk o’ that sort, just to show each other ’ow funny +they was, but they went off at last, and I fastened up the gate and +went into the office to clean myself up as well as I could. One comfort +was they ’adn’t got the least idea of wot I was arter, and I ’ad a +fancy that the one as laughed last would be the one as got that twelve +quid. + +I was so tired that I slept nearly all day arter I ’ad got ’ome, and I +’ad no sooner got back to the wharf in the evening than I see that the +landlord ’ad been busy. If there was one silly fool that asked me the +best way of making mud-pies, I should think there was fifty. Little +things please little minds, and the silly way some of ’em went on made +me feel sorry for my sects. + +By eight o’clock, ’owever, they ’ad all sheered off, and I got a broom +and began to sweep up to ’elp pass the time away until low-water. On’y +one craft ’ad come up that day—a ketch called the Peewit—and as she was +berthed at the end of the jetty she wasn’t in my way at all. + +Her skipper came on to the wharf just afore ten. Fat, silly old man ’e +was, named Fogg. Always talking about ’is ’ealth and taking medicine to +do it good. He came up to me slow like, and, when ’e stopped and asked +me about the rheumatics, the broom shook in my ’and. + +“Look here,” I ses, “if you want to be funny, go and be funny with them +as likes it. I’m fair sick of it, so I give you warning.” + +“Funny?” he ses, staring at me with eyes like a cow. “Wot d’ye mean? +There’s nothing funny about rheumatics; I ought to know; I’m a martyr +to it. Did you find as ’ow the mud did you any good?” + +I looked at ’im hard, but ’e stood there looking at me with his fat +baby-face, and I knew he didn’t mean any harm; so I answered ’im +perlite and wished ’im good night. + +“I’ve ’ad pretty near everything a man can have,” he ses, casting +anchor on a empty box, “but I think the rheumatics was about the worst +of ’em all. I even tried bees for it once.” + +“Bees!” I ses. “Bees!” + +“Bee-stings,” he ses. “A man told me that if I could on’y persuade a +few bees to sting me, that ’ud cure me. I don’t know what ’e meant by +persuading! they didn’t want no persuading. I took off my coat and +shirt and went and rocked one of my neighbour’s bee-hives next door, +and I thought my last hour ’ad come.” + +He sat on that box and shivered at the memory of it. + +“Now I take Dr. Pepper’s pellets instead,” he ses. “I’ve got a box in +my state-room, and if you’d like to try ’em you’re welcome.” + +He sat there talking about the complaints he had ’ad and wot he ’ad +done for them till I thought I should never have got rid of ’im. He got +up at last, though, and, arter telling me to always wear flannel next +to my skin, climbed aboard and went below. + +I knew the hands was aboard, and arter watching ’is cabin-skylight +until the light was out, I went and undressed. Then I crept back on to +the jetty, and arter listening by the Peewit to make sure that they was +all asleep, I went back and climbed down the ladder. + +It was colder than ever. The cold seemed to get into my bones, but I +made up my mind to ’ave that twelve quid if I died for it. I trod round +and round the place where I ’ad seen that purse chucked in until I was +tired, and the rubbish I picked up by mistake you wouldn’t believe. + +I suppose I ’ad been in there arf an hour, and I was standing up with +my teeth clenched to keep them from chattering, when I ’appened to look +round and see something like a white ball coming down the ladder. My +’art seemed to stand still for a moment, and then it began to beat as +though it would burst. The white thing came down lower and lower, and +then all of a sudden it stood in the mud and said, “Ow!” + +“Who is it?” I ses. “Who are you?” “Halloa, Bill!” it ses. “Ain’t it +perishing cold?” + +It was the voice o’ Cap’n Fogg, and if ever I wanted to kill a +fellow-creetur, I wanted to then. + +“’Ave you been in long, Bill?” he ses. “About ten minutes,” I ses, +grinding my teeth. + +“Is it doing you good?” he ses. + +I didn’t answer ’im. + +“I was just going off to sleep,” he ses, “when I felt a sort of hot +pain in my left knee. O’ course, I knew what it meant at once, and +instead o’ taking some of the pellets I thought I’d try your remedy +instead. It’s a bit nippy, but I don’t mind that if it does me good.” + +He laughed a silly sort o’ laugh, and then I’m blest if ’e didn’t sit +down in that mud and waller in it. Then he’d get up and come for’ard +two or three steps and sit down agin. + +“Ain’t you sitting down, Bill?” he ses, arter a time. + +“No,” I ses, “I’m not.” + +“I don’t think you can expect to get the full benefit unless you do,” +he ses, coming up close to me and sitting down agin. “It’s a bit of a +shock at fust, but Halloa!” + +“Wot’s up?” I ses. + +“Sitting on something hard,” he ses. “I wish people ’ud be more +careful.” + +He took a list to port and felt under the star-board side. Then he +brought his ’and up and tried to wipe the mud off and see wot he ’ad +got. + +“Wot is it?” I ses, with a nasty sinking sort o’ feeling inside me. + +“I don’t know,” he ses, going on wiping. “It’s soft outside and ’ard +inside. It——” + +“Let’s ’ave a look at it,” I ses, holding out my ’and. + +“It’s nothing,” he ses, in a queer voice, getting up and steering for +the ladder. “Bit of oyster-shell, I think.” + +He was up that ladder hand over fist, with me close behind ’im, and as +soon as he ’ad got on to the wharf started to run to ’is ship. + +“Good night, Bill,” he ses, over ’is shoulder. + +“Arf a moment.” I ses, follering ’im. + +“I must get aboard,” he ses; “I believe I’ve got a chill,” and afore I +could stop ’im he ’ad jumped on and run down to ’is cabin. + +I stood on the jetty for a minute or two, trembling all over with cold +and temper. Then I saw he ’ad got a light in ’is cabin, and I crept +aboard and peeped down the skylight. And I just ’ad time to see some +sovereigns on the table, when he looked up and blew out the light. + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DEEP WATERS *** + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the +United States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm +concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, +and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following +the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use +of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for +copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very +easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation +of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project +Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away--you may +do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected +by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark +license, especially commercial redistribution. + +START: FULL LICENSE + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full +Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at +www.gutenberg.org/license. + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or +destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your +possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a +Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound +by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the +person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph +1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this +agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the +Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection +of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual +works in the collection are in the public domain in the United +States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the +United States and you are located in the United States, we do not +claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, +displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as +all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope +that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting +free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm +works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the +Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily +comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the +same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when +you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are +in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, +check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this +agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, +distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any +other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no +representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any +country other than the United States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other +immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear +prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work +on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, +performed, viewed, copied or distributed: + + This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and + most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no + restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it + under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this + eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the + United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where + you are located before using this eBook. + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is +derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not +contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the +copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in +the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are +redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply +either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or +obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm +trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any +additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms +will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works +posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the +beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including +any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access +to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format +other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official +version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm website +(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense +to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means +of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain +Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the +full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +provided that: + +* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed + to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has + agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project + Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid + within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are + legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty + payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project + Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in + Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg + Literary Archive Foundation." + +* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all + copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue + all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm + works. + +* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of + any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of + receipt of the work. + +* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than +are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing +from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of +the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the Foundation as set +forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project +Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may +contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate +or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other +intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or +other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or +cannot be read by your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium +with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you +with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in +lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person +or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second +opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If +the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing +without further opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO +OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT +LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of +damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement +violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the +agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or +limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or +unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the +remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in +accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the +production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, +including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of +the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this +or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or +additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any +Defect you cause. + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of +computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It +exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations +from people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future +generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see +Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at +www.gutenberg.org + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by +U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, +Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up +to date contact information can be found at the Foundation's website +and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without +widespread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND +DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular +state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To +donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project +Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be +freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and +distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of +volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in +the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not +necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper +edition. + +Most people start at our website which has the main PG search +facility: www.gutenberg.org + +This website includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + diff --git a/old/11482-0.zip b/old/11482-0.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..1886837 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/11482-0.zip diff --git a/old/11482-h.zip b/old/11482-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..6a3abd9 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/11482-h.zip diff --git a/old/11482-h/11482-h.htm b/old/11482-h/11482-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9ffb5c5 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/11482-h/11482-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,8752 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Deep Waters, by W.W. Jacobs</title> +<link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> +<style type="text/css"> + +body { margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; + text-align: justify; } + +h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-weight: +normal; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: .5em; margin-bottom: .5em;} + +h1 {font-size: 300%; + margin-top: 0.6em; + margin-bottom: 0.6em; + letter-spacing: 0.12em; + word-spacing: 0.2em; + text-indent: 0em;} +h2 {font-size: 150%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} +h3 {font-size: 130%; margin-top: 1em;} +h4 {font-size: 120%;} +h5 {font-size: 110%;} + +.no-break {page-break-before: avoid;} /* for epubs */ + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em;} + +hr {width: 80%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + +p {text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: 0.25em; + margin-bottom: 0.25em; } + +div.fig { display:block; + margin:0 auto; + text-align:center; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em;} + +p.caption {font-weight: bold; + text-align: center; } + +a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:hover {color:red} + +</style> + +</head> +<body> + +<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Deep Waters, by W.W. Jacobs</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online +at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Deep Waters</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: W.W. Jacobs</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: October 30, 2006 [eBook #11482]<br /> +[Most recently updated: December 26, 2022]</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: David Widger</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DEEP WATERS ***</div> + +<div class="fig" style="width:55%;"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="[Illustration]" /> +</div> + +<div class="fig" style="width:55%;"> +<img src="images/title.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="[Illustration]" /> +</div> + +<h1>DEEP WATERS</h1> + +<h2 class="no-break">By W. W. JACOBS</h2> + +<h3>1911</h3> + +<hr /> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<table summary="" style=""> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap01">SHAREHOLDERS</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap02">PAYING OFF</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap03">MADE TO MEASURE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap04">SAM’S GHOST</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap05">BEDRIDDEN</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap06">THE CONVERT</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap07">HUSBANDRY</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap08">FAMILY CARES</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap09">THE WINTER OFFENSIVE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap10">THE SUBSTITUTE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap11">STRIKING HARD</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap12">DIRTY WORK</a></td> +</tr> + +</table> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> + +<table summary="" style=""> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus01">“Found It over There, Just by the Mint,” Ses The Man, Pointing.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus02">In the Light of The Lamp I Saw The Dead White Face.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus03">Right Afore My Wife and the Party Next Door She Put Her Arm Round My Waist.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus04">She Learnt the News in The First Half-hour from Her Landlady.</a></td> +</tr> + +</table> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap01"></a>SHAREHOLDERS</h2> + +<p> +Sailor man—said the night-watchman, musingly—a sailorman is like a fish he is +safest when ’e is at sea. When a fish comes ashore it is in for trouble, and so +is sailorman. One poor chap I knew ’ardly ever came ashore without getting +married; and he was found out there was no less than six wimmen in the court +all taking away ’is character at once. And when he spoke up Solomon the +magistrate pretty near bit ’is ’ead off. +</p> + +<p> +Then look at the trouble they get in with their money! They come ashore from a +long trip, smelling of it a’most, and they go from port to port like a lord. +Everybody has got their eye on that money—everybody except the sailorman, that +is—and afore he knows wot’s ’appened, and who ’as got it, he’s looking for a +ship agin. When he ain’t robbed of ’is money, he wastes it; and when ’e don’t +do either, he loses it. +</p> + +<p> +I knew one chap who hid ’is money. He’d been away ten months, and, knowing ’ow +easy money goes, ’e made up sixteen pounds in a nice little parcel and hid it +where nobody could find it. That’s wot he said, and p’r’aps ’e was right. All I +know is, he never found it. I did the same thing myself once with a couple o’ +quid I ran acrost unexpected, on’y, unfortunately for me, I hid it the day +afore my missus started ’er spring-cleaning. +</p> + +<p> +One o’ the worst men I ever knew for getting into trouble when he came ashore +was old Sam Small. If he couldn’t find it by ’imself, Ginger Dick and Peter +Russet would help ’im look for it. Generally speaking they found it without +straining their eyesight. +</p> + +<p> +I remember one time they was home, arter being away pretty near a year, and +when they was paid off they felt like walking gold-mines. They went about +smiling all over with good-temper and ’appiness, and for the first three days +they was like brothers. That didn’t last, of course, and on the fourth day Sam +Small, arter saying wot ’e would do to Ginger and Peter if it wasn’t for the +police, went off by ’imself. +</p> + +<p> +His temper passed off arter a time, and ’e began to look cheerful agin. It was +a lovely morning, and, having nothing to do and plenty in ’is pocket to do it +with, he went along like a schoolboy with a ’arf holiday. He went as far as +Stratford on the top of a tram for a mouthful o’ fresh air, and came back to +his favourite coffee-shop with a fine appetite for dinner. There was a very +nice gentlemanly chap sitting opposite ’im, and the way he begged Sam’s pardon +for splashing gravy over ’im made Sam take a liking to him at once. Nicely +dressed he was, with a gold pin in ’is tie, and a fine gold watch-chain acrost +his weskit; and Sam could see he ’ad been brought up well by the way he used +’is knife and fork. He kept looking at Sam in a thoughtful kind o’ way, and at +last he said wot a beautiful morning it was, and wot a fine day it must be in +the country. In a little while they began to talk like a couple of old friends, +and he told Sam all about ’is father, wot was a clergyman in the country, and +Sam talked about a father of his as was living private on three ’undred a year. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, money’s a useful thing,” ses the man. +</p> + +<p> +“It ain’t everything,” ses Sam. “It won’t give you ’appiness. I’ve run through +a lot in my time, so I ought to know.” +</p> + +<p> +“I expect you’ve got a bit left, though,” ses the man, with a wink. +</p> + +<p> +Sam laughed and smacked ’is pocket. “I’ve got a trifle to go on with,” he ses, +winking back. “I never feel comfortable without a pound or two in my pocket.” +</p> + +<p> +“You look as though you’re just back from a vy’ge,” ses the man, looking at ’im +very hard. +</p> + +<p> +“I am,” ses Sam, nodding. “Just back arter ten months, and I’m going to spend a +bit o’ money afore I sign on agin, I can tell you.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s wot it was given to us for,” ses the man, nodding at him. +</p> + +<p> +They both got up to go at the same time and walked out into the street +together, and, when Sam asked ’im whether he might have the pleasure of +standing ’im a drink, he said he might. He talked about the different kinds of +drink as they walked along till Sam, wot was looking for a high-class pub, got +such a raging thirst on ’im he hardly knew wot to do with ’imself. He passed +several pubs, and walked on as fast as he could to the Three Widders. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you want to go in there partikler?” ses the man, stopping at the door. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” ses Sam, staring. +</p> + +<p> +“’Cos I know a place where they sell the best glass o’ port wine in London,” +ses the man. +</p> + +<p> +He took Sam up two or three turnings, and then led him into a quiet little pub +in a back street. There was a cosy little saloon bar with nobody in it, and, +arter Sam had ’ad two port wines for the look of the thing, he ’ad a pint o’ +six-ale because he liked it. His new pal had one too, and he ’ad just taken a +pull at it and wiped his mouth, when ’e noticed a little bill pinned up at the +back of the bar. +</p> + +<p> +“Lost, between—the Mint and—Tower Stairs,” he ses, leaning forward and reading +very slow, “a gold—locket—set with—diamonds. Whoever will—return—the same +to—Mr. Smith—Orange Villa—Barnet—will receive —thirty pounds—reward.” +</p> + +<p> +“’Ow much?” ses Sam, starting. “Thirty pounds,” ses the man. “Must be a good +locket. Where’d you get that?” he ses, turning to the barmaid. +</p> + +<p> +“Gentleman came in an hour ago,” ses the gal, “and, arter he had ’ad two or +three drinks with the guv’nor, he asks ’im to stick it up. ’Arf crying he +was—said ’it ’ad belonged to his old woman wot died.” +</p> + +<p> +She went off to serve a customer at the other end of the bar wot was making +little dents in it with his pot, and the man came back and sat down by Sam +agin, and began to talk about horse-racing. At least, he tried to, but Sam +couldn’t talk of nothing but that locket, and wot a nice steady sailorman could +do with thirty pounds. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, p’r’aps you’ll find it,” ses the man, chaffing-like. “’Ave another +pint.” +</p> + +<p> +Sam had one, but it only made ’im more solemn, and he got in quite a temper as +’e spoke about casuals loafing about on Tower Hill with their ’ands in their +pockets, and taking gold lockets out of the mouths of hard-working sailormen. +</p> + +<p> +“It mightn’t be found yet,” ses the man, speaking thoughtful-like. “It’s +wonderful how long a thing’ll lay sometimes. Wot about going and ’aving a look +for it?” +</p> + +<p> +Sam shook his ’ead at fust, but arter turning the thing over in his mind, and +’aving another look at the bill, and copying down the name and address for +luck, ’e said p’r’aps they might as well walk that way as anywhere else. +</p> + +<p> +“Something seems to tell me we’ve got a chance,” ses the man, as they stepped +outside. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s a funny feeling and I can’t explain it, but it always means good luck. +Last time I had it an aunt o’ mine swallered ’er false teeth and left me five +’undred pounds.” +</p> + +<p> +“There’s aunts and aunts,” ses Sam, grunting. “I ’ad one once, but if she had +swallered ’er teeth she’d ha’ been round to me to help ’er buy some new ones. +That’s the sort she was.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mind!” ses the man, patting ’im on the shoulder, “if we do find this, I don’t +want any of it. I’ve got all I want. It’s all for you.” +</p> + +<p> +They went on like a couple o’ brothers arter that, especially Sam, and when +they got to the Mint they walked along slow down Tower Hill looking for the +locket. It was awkward work, because, if people saw them looking about, they’d +’ave started looking too, and twice Sam nearly fell over owing to walking like +a man with a stiff neck and squinting down both sides of his nose at once. When +they got as far as the Stairs they came back on the other side of the road, and +they ’ad turned to go back agin when a docker-looking chap stopped Sam’s friend +and spoke to ’im. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve got no change, my man,” ses Sam’s pal, pushing past him. +</p> + +<p> +“I ain’t begging, guv’nor,” ses the chap, follering ’im up. “I’m trying to sell +some-thing.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wot is it?” ses the other, stopping. +</p> + +<p> +The man looked up and down the street, and then he put his ’ead near them and +whispered. +</p> + +<p> +“Eh?” ses Sam’s pal. +</p> + +<p> +“Something I picked up,” ses the man, still a-whispering. +</p> + +<p> +Sam got a pinch on the arm from ’is pal that nearly made him scream, then they +both stood still, staring at the docker. +</p> + +<p> +“Wot is it?” ses Sam, at last. +</p> + +<p> +The docker looked over his shoulder agin, and then ’e put his ’and in his +trouser-pocket and just showed ’em a big, fat gold locket with diamonds stuck +all over it. Then he shoved it back in ’is pocket, while Sam’s pal was giving +’im a pinch worse than wot the other was. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s the one,” he ses, in a whisper. “Let’s ’ave another look at it,” he ses +to the docker. +</p> + +<p> +The man fished it out of his pocket agin, and held on to it tight while they +looked at it. +</p> + +<p> +“Where did you find it?” ses Sam. +</p> + +<p> +“Found it over there, just by the Mint,” ses the man, pointing. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="illus01"></a> +<img src="images/001.jpg" width="463" height="577" alt="[Illustration]" /> +<p class="caption">“Found it over there, just by the Mint,” ses the man, pointing.</p> +</div> + +<p> +“As much as I can get,” ses the man. “I don’t quite know ’ow much it’s worth, +that’s the worst of it. Wot d’ye say to twenty pounds, and chance it?” +</p> + +<p> +Sam laughed—the sort of laugh a pal ’ad once give him a black eye for. +</p> + +<p> +“Twenty pounds!” he ses; “twenty pounds! ’Ave you gorn out of your mind, or +wot? I’ll give you a couple of quid for it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, it’s all right, captin,” ses the man, “there’s no ’arm done. I’ll try +somebody else—or p’r’aps there’ll be a big reward for it. I don’t believe it +was bought for a ’undred pounds.” +</p> + +<p> +He was just sheering off when Sam’s pal caught ’im by the arm and asked him to +let ’im have another look at it. Then he came back to Sam and led ’im a little +way off, whispering to ’im that it was the chance of a life time. +</p> + +<p> +“And if you prefer to keep it for a little while and then sell it, instead of +getting the reward for it, I dare say it would be worth a hundred pounds to +you,” ’e ses. +</p> + +<p> +“I ain’t got twenty pounds,” ses Sam. +</p> + +<p> +“’Ow much ’ave you got?” ses his pal. +</p> + +<p> +Sam felt in ’is pockets, and the docker came up and stood watching while he +counted it. Altogether it was nine pounds fourteen shillings and tuppence. +</p> + +<p> +“P’r’aps you’ve got some more at ’ome,” ses his pal. +</p> + +<p> +“Not a farthing,” ses Sam, which was true as far as the farthing went. +</p> + +<p> +“Or p’r’aps you could borrer some,” ses his pal, in a soft, kind voice. “I’d +lend it to you with pleasure, on’y I haven’t got it with me.” +</p> + +<p> +Sam shook his ’ead, and at last, arter the docker ’ad said he wouldn’t let it +go for less than twenty, even to save ’is life, he let it go for the nine +pounds odd, a silver watch-chain, two cigars wot Sam ’ad been sitting on by +mistake, and a sheath-knife. +</p> + +<p> +“Shove it in your pocket and don’t let a soul see it,” ses the man, handing +over the locket. “I might as well give it away a’most. But it can’t be ’elped.” +</p> + +<p> +He went off up the ’ill shaking his ’ead, and Sam’s pal, arter watching him for +a few seconds, said good-bye in a hurry and went off arter ’im to tell him to +keep ’is mouth shut about it. +</p> + +<p> +Sam walked back to his lodgings on air, as the saying is, and even did a little +bit of a skirt-dance to a pianner-organ wot was playing. Peter and Ginger was +out, and so was his land-lady, a respectable woman as was minding the rest of +’is money for him, and when he asked ’er little gal, a kid of eleven, to trust +’im for some tin she gave ’im a lecture on wasting his money instead wot took +’is breath away—all but a word or two. +</p> + +<p> +He got some of ’is money from his landlady at eight o’clock, arter listening to +’er for ’arf an hour, and then he ’ad to pick it up off of the floor, and say +“Thank you” for it. +</p> + +<p> +He went to bed afore Ginger and Peter came in, but ’e was so excited he +couldn’t sleep, and long arter they was in bed he laid there and thought of all +the different ways of spending a ’undred pounds. He kept taking the locket from +under ’is piller and feeling it; then he felt ’e must ’ave another look at it, +and arter coughing ’ard two or three times and calling out to the other two not +to snore—to see if they was awake—he got out o’ bed and lit the candle. Ginger +and Peter was both fast asleep, with their eyes screwed up and their mouths +wide open, and ’e sat on the bed and looked at the locket until he was a’most +dazzled. +</p> + +<p> +“’Ullo, Sam!” ses a voice. “Wot ’ave you got there?” +</p> + +<p> +Sam nearly fell off the bed with surprise and temper. Then ’e hid the locket in +his ’and and blew out the candle. +</p> + +<p> +“Who gave it to you?” ses Ginger. +</p> + +<p> +“You get off to sleep, and mind your own bisness,” ses Sam, grinding ’is teeth. +</p> + +<p> +He got back into bed agin and laid there listening to Ginger waking up Peter. +Peter woke up disagreeable, but when Ginger told ’im that Sam ’ad stole a gold +locket as big as a saucer, covered with diamonds, he altered ’is mind. +</p> + +<p> +“Let’s ’ave a look at it,” he ses, sitting up. +</p> + +<p> +“Ginger’s dreaming,” ses Sam, in a shaky voice. “I ain’t got no locket. Wot +d’you think I want a locket for?” +</p> + +<p> +Ginger got out o’ bed and lit the candle agin. “Come on!” he ses, “let’s ’ave a +look at it. I wasn’t dreaming. I’ve been awake all the time, watching you.” +</p> + +<p> +Sam shut ’is eyes and turned his back to them. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s gone to sleep, pore old chap,” ses Ginger. “We’ll ’ave a look at it +without waking ’im. You take that side, Peter! Mind you don’t disturb ’im.” +</p> + +<p> +He put his ’and in under the bed-clo’es and felt all up and down Sam’s back, +very careful. Sam stood it for ’arf a minute, and then ’e sat up in bed and +behaved more like a windmill than a man. +</p> + +<p> +“Hold his ’ands,” ses Ginger. +</p> + +<p> +“Hold ’em yourself,” ses Peter, dabbing ’is nose with his shirt-sleeve. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, we’re going to see it,” ses Ginger, “if we have to make enough noise to +rouse the ’ouse. Fust of all we’re going to ask you perlite; then we shall get +louder and louder. Show us the locket wot you stole, Sam!” +</p> + +<p> +“Show—us—the—diamond locket!” ses Peter. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s my turn, Peter,” ses Ginger. “One, two, three. SHOW—US—TH’——” +</p> + +<p> +“Shut up,” ses Sam, trembling all over. “I’ll show it to you if you stop your +noise.” +</p> + +<p> +He put his ’and under his piller, but afore he showed it to ’em he sat up in +bed and made ’em a little speech. He said ’e never wanted to see their faces +agin as long as he lived, and why Ginger’s mother ’adn’t put ’im in a pail o’ +cold water when ’e was born ’e couldn’t understand. He said ’e didn’t believe +that even a mother could love a baby that looked like a cod-fish with red ’air, +and as for Peter Russet, ’e believed his mother died of fright. +</p> + +<p> +“That’ll do,” ses Ginger, as Sam stopped to get ’is breath. “Are you going to +show us the locket, or ’ave we got to shout agin?” +</p> + +<p> +Sam swallered something that nearly choked ’im, and then he opened his ’and and +showed it to them. Peter told ’im to wave it so as they could see the diamonds +flash, and then Ginger waved the candle to see ’ow they looked that way, and +pretty near set pore Sam’s whiskers on fire. +</p> + +<p> +They didn’t leave ’im alone till they knew as much about it as he could tell +’em, and they both of ’em told ’im that if he took a reward of thirty pounds +for it, instead of selling it for a ’undred, he was a bigger fool than he +looked. +</p> + +<p> +“I shall turn it over in my mind,” ses Sam, sucking ’is teeth. “When I want +your advice I’ll ask you for it.” +</p> + +<p> +“We wasn’t thinking of you,” ses Ginger; “we was thinking of ourselves.” +</p> + +<p> +“You!” ses Sam, with a bit of a start. “Wot’s it got to do with you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Our share’ll be bigger, that’s all,” ses Ginger. +</p> + +<p> +“Much bigger,” ses Peter. “I couldn’t dream of letting it go at thirty. It’s +chucking money away. Why, we might get two ’undred for it. Who knows?” +</p> + +<p> +Sam sat on the edge of ’is bed like a man in a dream, then ’e began to make a +noise like a cat with a fish-bone in its throat, and then ’e stood up and let +fly. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t stop ’im, Peter,” ses Ginger. “Let ’im go on; it’ll do him good.” +</p> + +<p> +“He’s forgot all about that penknife you picked up and went shares in,” ses +Peter. “I wouldn’t be mean for twenty lockets.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nor me neither,” ses Ginger. “But we won’t let ’im be mean—for ’is own sake. +We’ll ’ave our rights.” +</p> + +<p> +“Rights!” ses Sam. “Rights! You didn’t find it.” +</p> + +<p> +“We always go shares if we find anything,” ses Ginger. “Where’s your memory, +Sam?” “But I didn’t find it,” ses Sam. +</p> + +<p> +“No, you bought it,” ses Peter, “and if you don’t go shares we’ll split on +you—see? Then you can’t sell it anyway, and perhaps you won’t even get the +reward. We can be at Orange Villa as soon as wot you can.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sooner,” ses Ginger, nodding. “But there’s no need to do that. If ’e don’t go +shares I’ll slip round to the police-station fust thing in the morning.” +</p> + +<p> +“You know the way there all right,” ses Sam, very bitter. +</p> + +<p> +“And we don’t want none o’ your back-answers,” ses Ginger. “Are you going +shares or not?” +</p> + +<p> +“Wot about the money I paid for it?” ses Sam, “and my trouble?” +</p> + +<p> +Ginger and Peter sat down on the bed to talk it over, and at last, arter +calling themselves a lot o’ bad names for being too kind-’earted, they offered +’im five pounds each for their share in the locket. +</p> + +<p> +“And that means you’ve got your share for next to nothing, Sam,” ses Ginger. +</p> + +<p> +“Some people wouldn’t ’ave given you any-thing,” ses Peter. +</p> + +<p> +Sam gave way at last, and then ’e stood by making nasty remarks while Ginger +wrote out a paper for them all to sign, because he said he had known Sam such a +long time. +</p> + +<p> +It was a’most daylight afore they got to sleep, and the fust thing Ginger did +when he woke was to wake Sam up, and offer to shake ’ands with him. The noise +woke Peter up, and, as Sam wouldn’t shake ’ands with ’im either, they both +patted him on the back instead. +</p> + +<p> +They made him take ’em to the little pub, arter breakfast, to read the bill +about the reward. Sam didn’t mind going, as it ’appened, as he ’oped to meet +’is new pal there and tell ’im his troubles, but, though they stayed there some +time, ’e didn’t turn up. He wasn’t at the coffee-shop for dinner, neither. +</p> + +<p> +Peter and Ginger was in ’igh spirits, and, though Sam told ’em plain that he +would sooner walk about with a couple of real pickpockets, they wouldn’t leave +’im an inch. +</p> + +<p> +“Anybody could steal it off of you, Sam,” ses Ginger, patting ’im on the weskit +to make sure the locket was still there. “It’s a good job you’ve got us to look +arter you.” +</p> + +<p> +“We must buy ’im a money-belt with a pocket in it,” ses Peter. +</p> + +<p> +Ginger nodded at ’im. “Yes,” he ses, “that would be safer. And he’d better wear +it next to ’is skin, with everything over it. I should feel more comfortable +then.” +</p> + +<p> +“And wot about me?” says Sam, turning on ’im. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, we’ll take it in turns,” ses Ginger. “You one day, and then me, and then +Peter.” +</p> + +<p> +Sam gave way at last, as arter all he could see it was the safest thing to do, +but he ’ad so much to say about it that they got fair sick of the sound of ’is +voice. They ’ad to go ’ome for ’im to put the belt on; and then at seven +o’clock in the evening, arter Sam had ’ad two or three pints, they had to go +’ome agin, ’cos he was complaining of tight-lacing. +</p> + +<p> +Ginger had it on next day and he went ’ome five times. The other two went with +’im in case he lost ’imself, and stood there making nasty remarks while he +messed ’imself up with a penn’orth of cold cream. It was a cheap belt, and pore +Ginger said that, when they ’ad done with it, it would come in handy for +sand-paper. +</p> + +<p> +Peter didn’t like it any better than the other two did, and twice they ’ad to +speak to ’im about stopping in the street and trying to make ’imself more +comfortable by wriggling. Sam said people misunderstood it. +</p> + +<p> +Arter that they agreed to wear it outside their shirt, and even then Ginger +said it scratched ’im. And every day they got more and more worried about wot +was the best thing to do with the locket, and whether it would be safe to try +and sell it. The idea o’ walking about with a fortune in their pockets that +they couldn’t spend a’most drove ’em crazy. +</p> + +<p> +“The longer we keep it, the safer it’ll be,” ses Sam, as they was walking down +Hounds-ditch one day. +</p> + +<p> +“We’ll sell it when I’m sixty,” ses Ginger, nasty-like. +</p> + +<p> +“Then old Sam won’t be ’ere to have ’is share,” ses Peter. +</p> + +<p> +Sam was just going to answer ’em back, when he stopped and began to smile +instead. Straight in front of ’im was the gentleman he ’ad met in the +coffee-shop, coming along with another man, and he just ’ad time to see that it +was the docker who ’ad sold him the locket, when they both saw ’im. They turned +like a flash, and, afore Sam could get ’is breath, bolted up a little alley and +disappeared. +</p> + +<p> +“Wot’s the row?” ses Ginger, staring. +</p> + +<p> +Sam didn’t answer ’im. He stood there struck all of a heap. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know ’em?” ses Peter. +</p> + +<p> +Sam couldn’t answer ’im for a time. He was doing a bit of ’ard thinking. +</p> + +<p> +“Chap I ’ad a row with the other night,” he ses, at last. +</p> + +<p> +He walked on very thoughtful, and the more ’e thought, the less ’e liked it. He +was so pale that Ginger thought ’e was ill and advised ’im to ’ave a drop o’ +brandy. Peter recommended rum, so to please ’em he ’ad both. It brought ’is +colour back, but not ’is cheerfulness. +</p> + +<p> +He gave ’em both the slip next morning; which was easy, as Ginger was wearing +the locket, and, arter fust ’aving a long ride for nothing owing to getting in +the wrong train, he got to Barnet. +</p> + +<p> +It was a big place; big enough to ’ave a dozen Orange Villas, but pore Sam +couldn’t find one. It wasn’t for want of trying neither. +</p> + +<p> +He asked at over twenty shops, and the post-office, and even went to the +police-station. He must ha’ walked six or seven miles looking for it, and at +last, ’arf ready to drop, ’e took the train back. +</p> + +<p> +He ’ad some sausages and mashed potatoes with a pint o’ stout at a place in +Bishopsgate, and then ’e started to walk ’ome. The only comfort he ’ad was the +thought of the ten pounds Ginger and Peter ’ad paid ’im; and when he remembered +that he began to cheer up and even smile. By the time he got ’ome ’e was +beaming all over ’is face. +</p> + +<p> +“Where’ve you been?” ses Ginger. +</p> + +<p> +“Enjoying myself by myself,” ses Sam. +</p> + +<p> +“Please yourself,” ses Peter, very severe, “but where’d you ha’ been if we ’ad +sold the locket and skipped, eh?” +</p> + +<p> +“You wouldn’t ’ave enjoyed yourself by yourself then,” ses Ginger. “Yes, you +may laugh!” +</p> + +<p> +Sam didn’t answer ’im, but he sat down on ’is bed and ’is shoulders shook till +Ginger lost his temper and gave him a couple o’ thumps on the back that pretty +near broke it. +</p> + +<p> +“All right,” ses Sam, very firm. “Now you ’ave done for yourselves. I ’ad +a’most made up my mind to go shares; now you sha’n’t ’ave a ha’penny.” +</p> + +<p> +Ginger laughed then. “Ho!” he ses, “and ’ow are you going to prevent it?” +</p> + +<p> +“We’ve got the locket, Sam,” ses Peter, smiling and shaking his ’ead at ’im. +</p> + +<p> +“And we’ll mind it till it’s sold,” ses Ginger. +</p> + +<p> +Sam laughed agin, short and nasty. Then he undressed ’imself very slow and got +into bed. At twelve o’clock, just as Ginger was dropping off, he began to laugh +agin, and ’e only stopped when ’e heard Ginger getting out of bed to ’im. +</p> + +<p> +He stayed in bed next morning, ’cos he said ’is sides was aching, but ’e +laughed agin as they was going out, and when they came back he ’ad gorn. +</p> + +<p> +We never know ’ow much we’ like anything till we lose it. A week arterwards, as +Ginger was being ’elped out of a pawnshop by Peter, he said ’e would give all +he ’adn’t got for the locket to be near enough to Sam to hear ’im laugh agin. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap02"></a>PAYING OFF</h2> + +<p> +My biggest fault, said the night-watchman, gloomily, has been good nature. I’ve +spent the best part of my life trying to do my fellow-creeturs a good turn. And +what do I get for it? If all the people I’ve helped was to come ’ere now there +wouldn’t be standing room for them on this wharf. ’Arf of them would be pushed +overboard—and a good place for ’em, too. +</p> + +<p> +I’ve been like it all my life. I was good-natured enough to go to sea as a boy +because a skipper took a fancy to me and wanted my ’elp, and when I got older I +was good-natured enough to get married. All my life I’ve given ’elp and advice +free, and only a day or two ago one of ’em wot I ’ad given it to came round +here with her ’usband and ’er two brothers and ’er mother and two or three +people from the same street, to see her give me “wot for.” +</p> + +<p> +Another fault o’ mine has been being sharp. Most people make mistakes, and they +can’t bear to see anybody as don’t. Over and over agin I have showed people ’ow +silly they ’ave been to do certain things, and told ’em wot I should ha’ done +in their place, but I can’t remember one that ever gave me a “thank you” for +it. +</p> + +<p> +There was a man ’ere ’arf an hour ago that reminded me of both of these faults. +He came in a-purpose to remind me, and ’e brought a couple o’ grinning, +brass-faced monkeys with ’im to see ’im do it. I was sitting on that barrel +when he came, and arter two minutes I felt as if I was sitting on red-’ot +cinders. He purtended he ’ad come in for the sake of old times and to ask arter +my ’ealth, and all the time he was doing ’is best to upset me to amuse them two +pore objecks ’e ’ad brought with ’im. +</p> + +<p> +Capt’in Mellun is his name, and ’e was always a foolish, soft-’eaded sort o’ +man, and how he ’as kept ’is job I can’t think. He used to trade between this +wharf and Bristol on a little schooner called the Firefly, and seeing wot a +silly, foolish kind o’ man he was, I took a little bit o’ notice of ’im. Many +and many a time when ’e was going to do something he’d ha’ been sorry for +arterwards I ’ave taken ’im round to the Bear’s Head and stood ’im pint arter +pint until he began to see reason and own up that I was in the right. +</p> + +<p> +His crew was a’most as bad as wot he was, and all in one month one o’ the ’ands +gave a man ten shillings for a di’mond ring he saw ’im pick up, wot turned out +to be worth fourpence, and another one gave five bob for a meerschaum pipe made +o’ chalk. When I pointed out to ’em wot fools they was they didn’t like it, and +a week arterwards, when the skipper gave a man in a pub ’is watch and chain and +two pounds to hold, to show ’is confidence in ’im, and I told ’im exactly wot I +thought of him, ’e didn’t like it. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re too sharp, Bill,” he says, sneering like. “My opinion is that the pore +man was run over. He told me ’e should only be away five minutes. And he ’ad +got an honest face: nice open blue eyes, and a smile that done you good to look +at.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve been swindled,” I ses, “and you know it. If I’d been done like that I +should never hold up my ’ead agin. Why, a child o’ five would know better. You +and your crew all seem to be tarred with the same brush. You ain’t fit to be +trusted out alone.” +</p> + +<p> +I believe ’e told his ’ands wot I said; anyway, two bits o’ coke missed me by +’arf an inch next evening, and for some weeks not one of ’em spoke a word to +me. When they see me coming they just used to stand up straight and twist their +nose. +</p> + +<p> +It didn’t ’urt me, o’ course. I took no notice of ’em. Even when one of ’em +fell over the broom I was sweeping with I took no notice of ’im. I just went on +with my work as if ’e wasn’t there. +</p> + +<p> +I suppose they ’ad been in the sulks about a month, and I was sitting ’ere one +evening getting my breath arter a couple o’ hours’ ’ard work, when one of ’em, +George Tebb by name, came off the ship and nodded to me as he passed. +</p> + +<p> +“Evening, Bill,” he ses. +</p> + +<p> +“Evening,” I ses, rather stiff. +</p> + +<p> +“I wanted a word with you, Bill,” he ses, in a low voice. “In fact, I might go +so far as to say I want to ask you to do me a favour.” +</p> + +<p> +I looked at him so ’ard that he coughed and looked away. +</p> + +<p> +“We might talk about it over a ’arf-pint,” he ses. +</p> + +<p> +“No, thank you,” I ses. “I ’ad a ’arf-pint the day before yesterday, and I’m +not thirsty.” +</p> + +<p> +He stood there fidgeting about for a bit, and then he puts his ’and on my +shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, come to the end of the jetty,” he ses. “I’ve got something private to +say.” +</p> + +<p> +I got up slow-like and followed ’im. I wasn’t a bit curious. Not a bit. But if +a man asks for my ’elp I always give it. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s like this,” he ses, looking round careful, “only I don’t want the other +chaps to hear because I don’t want to be laughed at. Last week an old uncle o’ +mine died and left me thirty pounds. It’s just a week ago, and I’ve already got +through five of ’em, and besides that the number of chaps that want to borrow +ten bob for a couple o’ days would surprise you.” +</p> + +<p> +“I ain’t so easy surprised,” I ses, shaking my ’ead. +</p> + +<p> +“It ain’t safe with me,” he ses; “and the favour I want you to do is to take +care of it for me. I know it’ll go if I keep it. I’ve got it locked up in this +box. And if you keep the box I’ll keep the key, and when I want a bit I’ll come +and see you about it.” +</p> + +<p> +He pulled a little box out of ’is pocket and rattled it in my ear. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s five-and-twenty golden goblins in there,” he ses. “If you take charge +of ’em they’ll be all right. If you don’t, I’m pretty certain I sha’n’t ’ave +one of ’em in a week or two’s time.” +</p> + +<p> +At fust I said I wouldn’t ’ave anything to do with it, but he begged so ’ard +that I began to alter my mind. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re as honest as daylight, Bill,” he ses, very earnest. “I don’t know +another man in the world I could trust with twenty-five quid— especially +myself. Now, put it in your pocket and look arter it for me. One of the quids +in it is for you, for your trouble.” +</p> + +<p> +He slipped the box in my coat-pocket, and then he said ’is mind was so relieved +that ’e felt like ’arf a pint. I was for going to the Bear’s Head, the place I +generally go to, because it is next door to the wharf, so to speak, but George +wanted me to try the beer at another place he knew of. +</p> + +<p> +“The wharf’s all right,” he ses. “There’s one or two ’ands on the ship, and +they won’t let anybody run away with it.” +</p> + +<p> +From wot he said I thought the pub was quite close, but instead o’ that I +should think we walked pretty nearly a mile afore we got there. Nice snug place +it was, and the beer was all right, although, as I told George Tebb, it didn’t +seem to me any better than the stuff at the Bear’s Head. +</p> + +<p> +He stood me two ’arf-pints and was just going to order another, when ’e found +’e ’adn’t got any money left, and he wouldn’t hear of me paying for it, because +’e said it was his treat. +</p> + +<p> +“We’ll ’ave a quid out o’ the box,” he ses. “I must ’ave one to go on with, +anyway.” I shook my ’ead at ’im. +</p> + +<p> +“Only one,” he ses, “and that’ll last me a fortnight. Besides, I want to give +you the quid I promised you.” +</p> + +<p> +I gave way at last, and he put his ’and in ’is trouser-pocket for the key, and +then found it wasn’t there. +</p> + +<p> +“I must ha’ left it in my chest,” he ses. “I’ll ’op back and get it.” And afore +I could prevent ’im he ’ad waved his ’and at me and gorn. +</p> + +<p> +My fust idea was to go arter ’im, but I knew I couldn’t catch ’im, and if I +tried to meet ’im coming back I should most likely miss ’im through the side +streets. So I sat there with my pipe and waited. +</p> + +<p> +I suppose I ’ad been sitting down waiting for him for about ten minutes, when a +couple o’ sailormen came into the bar and began to make themselves a nuisance. +Big fat chaps they was, and both of ’em more than ’arf sprung. And arter +calling for a pint apiece they began to take a little notice of me. +</p> + +<p> +“Where d’you come from?” ses one of ’em. “’Ome,” I ses, very quiet. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s a good place—’ome,” ses the chap, shaking his ’ead. “Can you sing ‘’Ome, +Sweet ’Ome’? You seem to ’ave got wot I might call a ‘singing face.’” +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind about my face,” I ses, very sharp. “You mind wot you’re doing with +that beer. You’ll ’ave it over in a minute.” +</p> + +<p> +The words was ’ardly out of my mouth afore ’e gave a lurch and spilt his pint +all over me. From ’ead to foot I was dripping with beer, and I was in such a +temper I wonder I didn’t murder ’im; but afore I could move they both pulled +out their pocket-’ankerchers and started to rub me down. +</p> + +<p> +“That’ll do,” I ses at last, arter they ’ad walked round me ’arf-a-dozen times +and patted me all over to see if I was dry. “You get off while you’re safe.” +</p> + +<p> +“It was my mistake, mate,” ses the chap who ’ad spilt the beer. +</p> + +<p> +“You get outside,” I ses. “Go on, both of you, afore I put you out.” +</p> + +<p> +They gave one look at me, standing there with my fists clenched, and then they +went out like lambs, and I ’eard ’em trot round the corner as though they was +afraid I was following. I felt a little bit damp and chilly, but beer is like +sea-water—you don’t catch cold through it—and I sat down agin to wait for +George Tebb. +</p> + +<p> +He came in smiling and out ’o breath in about ten minutes’ time, with the key +in ’is ’and, and as soon as I told ’im wot had ’appened to me with the beer he +turned to the landlord and ordered me six o’ rum ’ot at once. +</p> + +<p> +“Drink that up,” he ses, ’anding it to me; “but fust of all give me the box, so +as I can pay for it.” +</p> + +<p> +I put my ’and in my pocket. Then I put it in the other one, and arter that I +stood staring at George Tebb and shaking all over. +</p> + +<p> +“Wot’s the matter? Wot are you looking like that for?” he ses. +</p> + +<p> +“It must ha’ been them two,” I ses, choking. “While they was purtending to dry +me and patting me all over they must ’ave taken it out of my pocket.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wot are you talking about?” ses George, staring at me. +</p> + +<p> +“The box ’as gorn,” I ses, putting down the ’ot rum and feeling in my +trouser-pocket. “The box ’as gorn, and them two must ’ave taken it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Gorn!” ses George. “Gorn! My box with twenty-five pounds in, wot I trusted you +with, gorn? Wot are you talking about? It can’t be—it’s too crool!” +</p> + +<p> +He made such a noise that the landlord wot was waiting for ’is money, asked ’im +wot he meant by it, and, arter he ’ad explained, I’m blest if the landlord +didn’t advise him to search me. I stood still and let George go through my +pockets, and then I told ’im I ’ad done with ’im and I never wanted to see ’im +agin as long as I lived. +</p> + +<p> +“I dare say,” ses George, “I dare say. But you’ll come along with me to the +wharf and see the skipper. I’m not going to lose five-and-twenty quid through +your carelessness.” +</p> + +<p> +I marched along in front of ’im with my ’ead in the air, and when he spoke to +me I didn’t answer him. He went aboard the ship when we got to the wharf, and a +minute or two arterwards ’e came to the side and said the skipper wanted to see +me. +</p> + +<p> +The airs the skipper gave ’imself was sickening. He sat down there in ’is +miserable little rat-’ole of a cabin and acted as if ’e was a judge and I was a +prisoner. Most of the ’ands ’ad squeezed in there too, and the things they +advised George to do to me was remarkable. +</p> + +<p> +“Silence!” ses the skipper. “Now, watchman, tell me exactly ’ow this thing +’appened.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve told you once,” I ses. +</p> + +<p> +“I know,” ses the skipper, “but I want you to tell me again to see if you +contradict yourself. I can’t understand ’ow such a clever man as you could be +done so easy.” +</p> + +<p> +I thought I should ha’ bust, but I kept my face wonderful. I just asked ’im wot +the men was like that got off with ’is watch and chain and two pounds, in case +they might be the same. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s different,” he ses. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” ses I. “’Ow?” +</p> + +<p> +“I lost my own property,” he ses, “but you lost George’s, and ’ow a man like +you, that’s so much sharper and cleverer than other people, could be had so +easy, I can’t think. Why, a child of five would ha’ known better.” +</p> + +<p> +“A baby in arms would ha’ known better,” ses the man wot ’ad bought the di’mond +ring. “’Ow could you ’ave been so silly, Bill? At your time o’ life, too!” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s neither ’ere nor there,” ses the skip-per. “The watchman has lost +twenty-five quid belonging to one o’ my men. The question is, wot is he going +to do about it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing,” I ses. “I didn’t ask ’im to let me mind the box. He done it of ’is +own free will. It’s got nothing to do with me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, hasn’t it?” ses the skipper, drawing ’imself up. “I don’t want to be too +’ard on you, but at the same time I can’t let my man suffer. I’ll make it as +easy as I can, and I order you to pay ’im five shillings a week till the +twenty-five pounds is cleared off.” +</p> + +<p> +I laughed; I couldn’t ’elp it. I just stood there and laughed at ’im. +</p> + +<p> +“If you don’t,” ses the skipper, “then I shall lay the facts of the case afore +the guv’nor. Whether he’ll object to you being in a pub a mile away, taking +care of a box of gold while you was supposed to be taking care of the wharf, is +his bisness. My bisness is to see that my man ’as ’is rights.” +</p> + +<p> +“’Ear, ’ear !” ses the crew. +</p> + +<p> +“You please yourself, watchman,” ses the skipper. “You’re such a clever man +that no doubt you could get a better job to-morrow. There must be ’eaps of +people wanting a man like you. It’s for you to decide. That’s all I’ve got to +say—five bob a week till pore George ’as got ’is money back, or else I put the +case afore the guv’nor. Wot did you say?” +</p> + +<p> +I said it agin, and, as ’e didn’t seem to understand, I said it once more. +</p> + +<p> +“Please yourself,” ’e ses, when I ’ad finished. “You’re an old man, and five +bob a week can’t be much loss to you. You’ve got nothing to spend it on, at +your time o’ life. And you’ve got a very soft job ’ere. Wot?” +</p> + +<p> +I didn’t answer ’im. I just turned round, and, arter giving a man wot stood in +my way a punch in the chest, I got up on deck and on to the wharf, and said my +little say all alone to myself, behind the crane. +</p> + +<p> +I paid the fust five bob to George Tebb the next time the ship was up, and +arter biting ’em over and over agin and then ringing ’em on the deck ’e took +the other chaps round to the Bear’s Head. +</p> + +<p> +“P’r’aps it’s just as well it’s ’appened,” he ses. “Five bob a week for nearly +two years ain’t to be sneezed at. It’s slow, but it’s sure.” +</p> + +<p> +I thought ’e was joking at fust, but arter working it out in the office with a +bit o’ pencil and paper I thought I should ha’ gorn crazy. And when I +complained about the time to George ’e said I could make it shorter if I liked +by paying ten bob a week, but ’e thought the steady five bob a week was best +for both of us. +</p> + +<p> +I got to ’ate the sight of ’im. Every week regular as clockwork he used to come +round to me with his ’and out, and then go and treat ’is mates to beer with my +money. If the ship came up in the day-time, at six o’clock in the evening he’d +be at the wharf gate waiting for me; and if it came up at night she was no +sooner made fast than ’e was over the side patting my trouser-pocket and saying +wot a good job it was for both of us that I was in steady employment. +</p> + +<p> +Week arter week and month arter month I went on paying. I a’most forgot the +taste o’ beer, and if I could manage to get a screw o’ baccy a week I thought +myself lucky. And at last, just as I thought I couldn’t stand it any longer, +the end came. +</p> + +<p> +I ’ad just given George ’is week’s money—and ’ow I got it together that week I +don’t know—when one o’ the chaps came up and said the skipper wanted to see me +on board at once. +</p> + +<p> +“Tell ’im if he wants to see me I’m to be found on the wharf,” I ses, very +sharp. +</p> + +<p> +“He wants to see you about George’s money,” ses the chap. “I should go if I was +you. My opinion is he wants to do you a good turn.” +</p> + +<p> +I ’ung fire for a bit, and then, arter sweeping up for a little while +deliberate-like, I put down my broom and stepped aboard to see the skipper, wot +was sitting on the cabin skylight purtending to read a newspaper. +</p> + +<p> +He put it down when ’e see me, and George and the others, wot ’ad been standing +in a little bunch for’ard, came aft and stood looking on. +</p> + +<p> +“I wanted to see you about this money, watchman,” ses the skipper, putting on +’is beastly frills agin. “O’ course, we all feel that to a pore man like you +it’s a bit of a strain, and, as George ses, arter all you have been more +foolish than wicked.” +</p> + +<p> +“Much more,” ses George. +</p> + +<p> +“I find that you ’ave now paid five bob a week for nineteen weeks,” ses the +skipper, “and George ’as been kind enough and generous enough to let you off +the rest. There’s no need for you to look bashful, George; it’s a credit to +you.” +</p> + +<p> +I could ’ardly believe my ears. George stood there grinning like a stuck fool, +and two o’ the chaps was on their best behaviour with their ’ands over their +mouths and their eyes sticking out. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s all, watchman,” ses the skipper; “and I ’ope it’ll be a lesson to you +not to neglect your dooty by going into public-’ouses and taking charge of +other people’s money when you ain’t fit for it.” +</p> + +<p> +“I sha’n’t try to do anybody else a kindness agin, if that’s wot you mean,” I +ses, looking at ’im. +</p> + +<p> +“No, you’d better not,” he ses. “This partickler bit o’ kindness ’as cost you +four pounds fifteen, and that’s a curious thing when you come to think of it. +Very curious.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wot d’ye mean?” I ses. +</p> + +<p> +“Why,” he ses, grinning like a madman, “it’s just wot we lost between us. I +lost a watch and chain worth two pounds, and another couple o’ pounds besides; +Joe lost ten shillings over ’is di’mond ring; and Charlie lost five bob over a +pipe. ‘That’s four pounds fifteen—just the same as you.” +</p> + +<p> +Them silly fools stood there choking and sobbing and patting each other on the +back as though they’d never leave off, and all of a sudden I ’ad a ’orrible +suspicion that I ’ad been done. +</p> + +<p> +“Did you see the sovereigns in the box?” I ses, turning to the skipper. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” he ses, shaking his ’ead. +</p> + +<p> +“’Ow do you know they was there, then?” ses I. +</p> + +<p> +“Because you took charge of ’em,” said the skipper; “and I know wot a clever, +sharp chap you are. It stands to reason that you wouldn’t be responsible for a +box like that unless you saw inside of it. Why, a child o’ five wouldn’t!” +</p> + +<p> +I stood there looking at ’im, but he couldn’t meet my eye. None of ’em could; +and arter waiting there for a minute or two to give ’em a chance, I turned my +back on ’em and went off to my dooty. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap03"></a>MADE TO MEASURE</h2> + +<p> +Mr. Mott brought his niece home from the station with considerable pride. +Although he had received a photograph to assist identification, he had been +very dubious about accosting the pretty, well-dressed girl who had stepped from +the train and gazed around with dove-like eyes in search of him. Now he was +comfortably conscious of the admiring gaze of his younger fellow-townsmen. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll find it a bit dull after London, I expect,” he remarked, as he inserted +his key in the door of a small house in a quiet street. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m tired of London,” said Miss Garland. “I think this is a beautiful little +old town—so peaceful.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Mott looked gratified. +</p> + +<p> +“I hope you’ll stay a long time,” he said, as he led the way into the small +front room. “I’m a lonely old man.” +</p> + +<p> +His niece sank into an easy chair, and looked about her. +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you,” she said, slowly. “I hope I shall. I feel better already. There is +so much to upset one in London.” +</p> + +<p> +“Noise?” queried Mr. Mott. +</p> + +<p> +“And other things,” said Miss Garland, with a slight shudder. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Mott sighed in sympathy with the unknown, and, judging by his niece’s +expression, the unknowable. He rearranged the teacups, and, going to the +kitchen, returned in a few minutes with a pot of tea. +</p> + +<p> +“Mrs. Pett leaves at three,” he said, in explanation, “to look after her +children, but she comes back again at eight to look after my supper. And how is +your mother?” +</p> + +<p> +Miss Garland told him. +</p> + +<p> +“Last letter I had from her,” said Mr. Mott, stealing a glance at the girl’s +ring-finger, “I understood you were engaged.” +</p> + +<p> +His niece drew herself up. +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly not,” she said, with considerable vigour. “I have seen too much of +married life. I prefer my freedom. Besides, I don’t like men.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Mott said modestly that he didn’t wonder at it, and, finding the subject +uncongenial, turned the conversation on to worthier subjects. Miss Garland’s +taste, it seemed, lay in the direction of hospital nursing, or some other +occupation beneficial to mankind at large. Simple and demure, she filled the +simpler Mr. Mott with a strong sense of the shortcomings of his unworthy sex. +</p> + +<p> +Within two days, under the darkling glance of Mrs. Pett, she had altered the +arrangements of the house. Flowers appeared on the meal-table, knives and forks +were properly cleaned, and plates no longer appeared ornamented with the +mustard of a previous meal. Fresh air circulated through the house, and, +passing from Mrs. Pett’s left knee to the lumbar region of Mr. Mott, went on +its beneficent way rejoicing. +</p> + +<p> +On the fifth day of her visit, Mr. Mott sat alone in the front parlour. The +window was closed, the door was closed, and Mr. Mott, sitting in an easy chair +with his feet up, was aroused from a sound nap by the door opening to admit a +young man, who, deserted by Mrs. Pett, stood bowing awkwardly in the doorway. +</p> + +<p> +“Is Miss Garland in?” he stammered. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Mott rubbed the remnants of sleep from his eyelids. +</p> + +<p> +“She has gone for a walk,” he said, slowly. +</p> + +<p> +The young man stood fingering his hat. +</p> + +<p> +“My name is Hurst,” he said, with slight emphasis. “Mr. Alfred Hurst.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Mott, still somewhat confused, murmured that he was glad to hear it. +</p> + +<p> +“I have come from London to see Florrie,” continued the intruder. “I suppose +she won’t be long?” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Mott thought not, and after a moment’s hesitation invited Mr. Hurst to take +a chair. +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose she told you we are engaged?” said the latter. +</p> + +<p> +“Engaged!” said the startled Mr. Mott. “Why, she told me she didn’t like men.” +</p> + +<p> +“Playfulness,” replied Mr. Hurst, with an odd look. “Ah, here she is!” +</p> + +<p> +The handle of the front door turned, and a moment later the door of the room +was opened and the charming head of Miss Garland appeared in the opening. +</p> + +<p> +“Back again,” she said, brightly. “I’ve just been——” +</p> + +<p> +She caught sight of Mr. Hurst, and the words died away on her lips. The door +slammed, and the two gentlemen, exchanging glances, heard a hurried rush +upstairs and the slamming of another door. Also a key was heard to turn sharply +in a lock. +</p> + +<p> +“She doesn’t want to see you,” said Mr. Mott, staring. +</p> + +<p> +The young man turned pale. +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps she has gone upstairs to take her things off,” he muttered, resuming +his seat. “Don’t—don’t hurry her!” +</p> + +<p> +“I wasn’t going to,” said Mr. Mott. +</p> + +<p> +He twisted his beard uneasily, and at the end of ten minutes looked from the +clock to Mr. Hurst and coughed. +</p> + +<p> +“If you wouldn’t mind letting her know I’m waiting,” said the young man, +brokenly. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Mott rose, and went slowly upstairs. More slowly still, after an interval +of a few minutes, he came back again. +</p> + +<p> +“She doesn’t want to see you,” he said, slowly. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Hurst gasped. +</p> + +<p> +“I—I must see her,” he faltered. +</p> + +<p> +“She won’t see you,” repeated Mr. Mott. “And she told me to say she was +surprised at you following her down here.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Hurst uttered a faint moan, and with bent head passed into the little +passage and out into the street, leaving Mr. Mott to return to the sitting-room +and listen to such explanations as Miss Garland deemed advisable. Great +goodness of heart in the face of persistent and unwelcome attentions appeared +to be responsible for the late engagement. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, it’s over now,” said her uncle, kindly, “and no doubt he’ll soon find +somebody else. There are plenty of girls would jump at him, I expect.” +</p> + +<p> +Miss Garland shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +“He said he couldn’t live without me,” she remarked, soberly. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Mott laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“In less than three months I expect he’ll be congratulating himself,” he said, +cheerfully. “Why, I was nearly cau—married, four times. It’s a silly age.” +</p> + +<p> +His niece said “Indeed!” and, informing him in somewhat hostile tones that she +was suffering from a severe headache, retired to her room. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Mott spent the evening by himself, and retiring to bed at ten-thirty was +awakened by a persistent knocking at the front door at half-past one. Half +awakened, he lit a candle, and, stumbling downstairs, drew back the bolt of the +door, and stood gaping angrily at the pathetic features of Mr. Hurst. +</p> + +<p> +“Sorry to disturb you,” said the young man, “but would you mind giving this +letter to Miss Garland?” +</p> + +<p> +“Sorry to disturb me!” stuttered Mr. Mott. “What do you mean by it? Eh? What do +you mean by it?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is important,” said Mr. Hurst. “I can’t rest. I’ve eaten nothing all day.” +</p> + +<p> +“Glad to hear it,” snapped the irritated Mr. Mott. +</p> + +<p> +“If you will give her that letter, I shall feel easier,” said Mr. Hurst. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll give it to her in the morning,” said the other, snatching it from him. +“Now get off.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Hurst still murmuring apologies, went, and Mr. Mott, also murmuring, +returned to bed. The night was chilly, and it was some time before he could get +to sleep again. He succeeded at last, only to be awakened an hour later by a +knocking more violent than before. In a state of mind bordering upon frenzy, he +dived into his trousers again and went blundering downstairs in the dark. +</p> + +<p> +“Sorry to—” began Mr. Hurst. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Mott made uncouth noises at him. +</p> + +<p> +“I have altered my mind,” said the young man. “Would you mind letting me have +that letter back again? It was too final.” +</p> + +<p> +“You—get—off!” said the other, trembling with cold and passion. +</p> + +<p> +“I must have that letter,” said Mr. Hurst, doggedly. “All my future happiness +may depend upon it.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Mott, afraid to trust himself with speech, dashed upstairs, and after a +search for the matches found the letter, and, returning to the front door, shut +it on the visitor’s thanks. His niece’s door opened as he passed it, and a +gentle voice asked for enlightenment. +</p> + +<p> +“How silly of him!” she said, softly. “I hope he won’t catch cold. What did you +say?” +</p> + +<p> +“I was coughing,” said Mr. Mott, hastily. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll get cold if you’re not careful,” said his thoughtful niece. “That’s the +worst of men, they never seem to have any thought. Did he seem angry, or +mournful, or what? I suppose you couldn’t see his face?” +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t try,” said Mr. Mott, crisply. “Good night.” +</p> + +<p> +By the morning his ill-humour had vanished, and he even became slightly +facetious over the events of the night. The mood passed at the same moment that +Mr. Hurst passed the window. +</p> + +<p> +“Better have him in and get it over,” he said, irritably. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Garland shuddered. +</p> + +<p> +“Never!” she said, firmly. “He’d be down on his knees. It would be too painful. +You don’t know him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t want to,” said Mr. Mott. +</p> + +<p> +He finished his breakfast in silence, and, after a digestive pipe, proposed a +walk. The profile of Mr. Hurst, as it went forlornly past the window again, +served to illustrate Miss Garland’s refusal. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll go out and see him,” said Mr. Mott, starting up. “Are you going to be a +prisoner here until this young idiot chooses to go home? It’s preposterous!” +</p> + +<p> +He crammed his hat on firmly and set out in pursuit of Mr. Hurst, who was +walking slowly up the street, glancing over his shoulder. “Morning!” said Mr. +Mott, fiercely. “Good morning,” said the other. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, look here,” said Mr. Mott. “This has gone far enough, and I won’t have +any more of it. Why, you ought to be ashamed of yourself, chivvying a young +lady that doesn’t want you. Haven’t you got any pride?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said the young man, “not where she is concerned.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t believe you have,” said the other, regarding him, “and I expect that’s +where the trouble is. Did she ever have reason to think you were looking after +any other girls?” +</p> + +<p> +“Never, I swear it,” said Mr. Hurst, eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +“Just so,” said Mr. Mott, with a satisfied nod. “That’s where you made a +mistake. She was too sure of you; it was too easy. No excitement. Girls like a +man that other girls want; they don’t want a turtle-dove in fancy trousers.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Hurst coughed. +</p> + +<p> +“And they like a determined man,” continued Miss Garland’s uncle. “Why, in my +young days, if I had been jilted, and come down to see about it, d’you think +I’d have gone out of the house without seeing her? I might have been put out—by +half-a-dozen—but I’d have taken the mantelpiece and a few other things with me. +And you are bigger than I am.” +</p> + +<p> +“We aren’t all made the same,” said Mr. Hurst, feebly. +</p> + +<p> +“No, we’re not,” said Mr. Mott. “I’m not blaming you; in a way, I’m sorry for +you. If you’re not born with a high spirit, nothing’ll give it to you.” +</p> + +<p> +“It might be learnt,” said Mr. Hurst. Mr. Mott laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“High spirits are born, not made,” he said. “The best thing you can do is to go +and find another girl, and marry her before she finds you out.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Hurst shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s no other girl for me,” he said, miserably. “And everything seemed to +be going so well. We’ve been buying things for the house for the last six +months, and I’ve just got a good rise in my screw.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’ll do for another girl,” said Mr. Mott, briskly. “Now, you get off back to +town. You are worrying Florrie by staying here, and you are doing no good to +anybody. Good-bye.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll walk back as far as the door with you,” said Mr. Hurst. “You’ve done me +good. It’s a pity I didn’t meet you before.” +</p> + +<p> +“Remember what I’ve told you, and you’ll do well yet,” he said, patting the +young man on the arm. +</p> + +<p> +“I will,” said Mr. Hurst, and walked on by his side, deep in thought. +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t ask you in,” said Mr. Mott, jocularly, as he reached his door, and +turned the key in the lock. “Good-bye.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good-bye,” said Mr. Hurst. +</p> + +<p> +He grasped the other’s outstretched hand, and with a violent jerk pulled him +into the street. Then he pushed open the door, and, slipping into the passage, +passed hastily into the front room, closely followed by the infuriated Mr. +Mott. +</p> + +<p> +“What—what—what!” stammered that gentleman. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m taking your tip,” said Mr. Hurst, pale but determined. “I’m going to stay +here until I have seen Florrie.” +</p> + +<p> +“You—you’re a serpent,” said Mr. Mott, struggling for breath. “I—I’m surprised +at you. You go out before you get hurt.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not without the mantelpiece,” said Mr. Hurst, with a distorted grin. +</p> + +<p> +“A viper!” said Mr. Mott, with extreme bitterness. “If you are not out in two +minutes I’ll send for the police.” +</p> + +<p> +“Florrie wouldn’t like that,” said Mr. Hurst. “She’s awfully particular about +what people think. You just trot upstairs and tell her that a gentleman wants +to see her.” +</p> + +<p> +He threw himself into Mr. Mott’s own particular easy chair, and, crossing his +knees, turned a deaf ear to the threats of that incensed gentleman. Not until +the latter had left the room did his features reveal the timorousness of the +soul within. Muffled voices sounded from upstairs, and it was evident that an +argument of considerable length was in progress. It was also evident from the +return of Mr. Mott alone that his niece had had the best of it. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve done all I could,” he said, “but she declines to see you. She says she +won’t see you if you stay here for a month, and you couldn’t do that, you +know.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why not?” inquired Mr. Hurst. +</p> + +<p> +“Why not?” repeated Mr. Mott, repressing his feelings with some difficulty. +“Food!” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Hurst started. +</p> + +<p> +“And drink,” said Mr. Mott, following up his advantage. “There’s no good in +starving yourself for nothing, so you may as well go.” +</p> + +<p> +“When I’ve seen Florrie,” said the young man, firmly. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Mott slammed the door, and for the rest of the day Mr. Hurst saw him no +more. At one o’clock a savoury smell passed the door on its way upstairs, and +at five o’clock a middle-aged woman with an inane smile looked into the room on +her way aloft with a loaded tea-tray. By supper-time he was suffering +considerably from hunger and thirst. +</p> + +<p> +At ten o’clock he heard the footsteps of Mr. Mott descending the stairs. The +door opened an inch, and a gruff voice demanded to know whether he was going to +stay there all night. Receiving a cheerful reply in the affirmative, Mr. Mott +secured the front door with considerable violence, and went off to bed without +another word. +</p> + +<p> +He was awakened an hour or two later by the sound of something falling, and, +sitting up in bed to listen, became aware of a warm and agreeable odour. It was +somewhere about the hour of midnight, but a breakfast smell of eggs and bacon +would not be denied. +</p> + +<p> +He put on some clothes and went downstairs. A crack of light showed under the +kitchen door, and, pushing it open with some force, he gazed spellbound at the +spectacle before him. +</p> + +<p> +“Come in,” said Mr. Hurst, heartily. “I’ve just finished.” +</p> + +<p> +He rocked an empty beer-bottle and patted another that was half full. Satiety +was written on his face as he pushed an empty plate from him, and, leaning back +in his chair, smiled lazily at Mr. Mott. +</p> + +<p> +“Go on,” said that gentleman, hoarsely. Mr. Hurst shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“Enough is as good as a feast,” he said, reasonably. “I’ll have some more +to-morrow.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, will you?” said the other. “Will you?” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Hurst nodded, and, opening his coat, disclosed a bottle of beer in each +breast-pocket. The other pockets, it appeared, contained food. +</p> + +<p> +“And here’s the money for it,” he said, putting down some silver on the table. +“I am determined, but honest.” +</p> + +<p> +With a sweep of his hand, Mr. Mott sent the money flying. +</p> + +<p> +“To-morrow morning I send for the police. Mind that!” he roared. +</p> + +<p> +“I’d better have my breakfast early, then,” said Mr. Hurst, tapping his +pockets. “Good night. And thank you for your advice.” +</p> + +<p> +He sat for some time after the disappearance of his host, and then, returning +to the front room, placed a chair at the end of the sofa and, with the +tablecloth for a quilt, managed to secure a few hours’ troubled sleep. At eight +o’clock he washed at the scullery sink, and at ten o’clock Mr. Mott, with an +air of great determination, came in to deliver his ultimatum. +</p> + +<p> +“If you’re not outside the front door in five minutes, I’m going to fetch the +police,” he said, fiercely. +</p> + +<p> +“I want to see Florrie,” said the other. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you won’t see her,” shouted Mr. Mott. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Hurst stood feeling his chin. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, would you mind taking a message for me?” he asked. “I just want you to +ask her whether I am really free. Ask her whether I am free to marry again.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Mott eyed him in amazement. +</p> + +<p> +“You see, I only heard from her mother,” pursued Mr. Hurst, “and a friend of +mine who is in a solicitor’s office says that isn’t good enough. I only came +down here to make sure, and I think the least she can do is to tell me herself. +If she won’t see me, perhaps she’d put it in writing. You see, there’s another +lady.” +</p> + +<p> +“But!” said the mystified Mr. Mott. +</p> + +<p> +“You told me——” +</p> + +<p> +“You tell her that,” said the other. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Mott stood for a few seconds staring at him, and then without a word turned +on his heel and went upstairs. Left to himself, Mr. Hurst walked nervously up +and down the room, and, catching sight of his face in the old-fashioned glass +on the mantel-piece, heightened its colour by a few pinches. The minutes seemed +inter-minable, but at last he heard the steps of Mr. Mott on the stairs again. +</p> + +<p> +“She’s coming down to see you herself,” said the latter, solemnly. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Hurst nodded, and, turning to the window, tried in vain to take an interest +in passing events. A light step sounded on the stairs, the door creaked, and he +turned to find himself con-fronted by Miss Garland. +</p> + +<p> +“Uncle told me!” she began, coldly. Mr. Hurst bowed. +</p> + +<p> +“I am sorry to have caused you so much trouble,” he said, trying to control his +voice, “but you see my position, don’t you?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said the girl. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I wanted to make sure,” said Mr. Hurst. “It’s best for all of us, isn’t +it? Best for you, best for me, and, of course, for my young lady.” +</p> + +<p> +“You never said anything about her before,” said Miss Garland, her eyes +darkening. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course not,” said Mr. Hurst. “How could I? I was engaged to you, and then +she wasn’t my young lady; but, of course, as soon as you broke it off—” +</p> + +<p> +“Who is she?” inquired Miss Garland, in a casual voice. +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t know her,” said Mr. Hurst. +</p> + +<p> +“What is she like?” +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t describe her very well,” said Mr. Hurst. “I can only say she’s the +most beautiful girl I have ever seen. I think that’s what made me take to her. +And she’s easily pleased. She liked the things I have been buying for the house +tremendously.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did she?” said Miss Garland, with a gasp. +</p> + +<p> +“All except that pair of vases you chose,” continued the veracious Mr. Hurst. +“She says they are in bad taste, but she can give them to the charwoman.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” said the girl. “Oh, indeed! Very kind of her. Isn’t there anything else +she doesn’t like?” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Hurst stood considering. +</p> + +<p> +“She doesn’t like the upholstering of the best chairs,” he said at last. “She +thinks they are too showy, so she’s going to put covers over them.” +</p> + +<p> +There was a long pause, during which Mr. Mott, taking his niece gently by the +arm, assisted her to a chair. +</p> + +<p> +“Otherwise she is quite satisfied,” concluded Mr. Hurst. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Garland took a deep breath, but made no reply. +</p> + +<p> +“I have got to satisfy her that I am free,” said the young man, after another +pause. “I suppose that I can do so?” +</p> + +<p> +“I—I’ll think it over,” said Miss Garland, in a low voice. “I am not sure what +is the right thing to do. I don’t want to see you made miserable for life. It’s +nothing to me, of course, but still—” +</p> + +<p> +She got up and, shaking off the proffered assistance of her uncle, went slowly +and languidly up to her room. Mr. Mott followed her as far as the door, and +then turned indignantly upon Mr. Hurst. +</p> + +<p> +“You—you’ve broke her heart,” he said, solemnly. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s all right,” said Mr. Hurst, with a delighted wink. “I’ll mend it +again.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap04"></a>SAM’S GHOST</h2> + +<p> +Yes, I know, said the night-watchman, thoughtfully, as he sat with a cold pipe +in his mouth gazing across the river. I’ve ’eard it afore. People tell me they +don’t believe in ghosts and make a laugh of ’em, and all I say is: let them +take on a night-watchman’s job. Let ’em sit ’ere all alone of a night with the +water lapping against the posts and the wind moaning in the corners; especially +if a pal of theirs has slipped overboard, and there is little nasty bills stuck +up just outside in the High Street offering a reward for the body. Twice men +’ave fallen overboard from this jetty, and I’ve ’ad to stand my watch here the +same night, and not a farthing more for it. +</p> + +<p> +One of the worst and artfullest ghosts I ever ’ad anything to do with was Sam +Bullet. He was a waterman at the stairs near by ’ere; the sort o’ man that ’ud +get you to pay for drinks, and drink yours up by mistake arter he ’ad finished +his own. The sort of man that ’ad always left his baccy-box at ’ome, but always +’ad a big pipe in ’is pocket. +</p> + +<p> +He fell overboard off of a lighter one evening, and all that his mates could +save was ’is cap. It was on’y two nights afore that he ’ad knocked down an old +man and bit a policeman’s little finger to the bone, so that, as they pointed +out to the widder, p’r’aps he was taken for a wise purpose. P’r’aps he was +’appier where he was than doing six months. +</p> + +<p> +“He was the sort o’ chap that’ll make himself ’appy anywhere,” ses one of ’em, +comforting-like. +</p> + +<p> +“Not without me,” ses Mrs. Bullet, sobbing, and wiping her eyes on something +she used for a pocket-hankercher. “He never could bear to be away from me. Was +there no last words?” +</p> + +<p> +“On’y one,” ses one o’ the chaps, Joe Peel by name. +</p> + +<p> +“As ’e fell overboard,” ses the other. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Bullet began to cry agin, and say wot a good ’usband he ’ad been. +“Seventeen years come Michaelmas,” she ses, “and never a cross word. Nothing +was too good for me. Nothing. I ’ad only to ask to ’ave.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, he’s gorn now,” ses Joe, “and we thought we ought to come round and tell +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“So as you can tell the police,” ses the other chap. +</p> + +<p> +That was ’ow I came to hear of it fust; a policeman told me that night as I +stood outside the gate ’aving a quiet pipe. He wasn’t shedding tears; his only +idea was that Sam ’ad got off too easy. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, well,” I ses, trying to pacify ’im, “he won’t bite no more fingers; +there’s no policemen where he’s gorn to.” +</p> + +<p> +He went off grumbling and telling me to be careful, and I put my pipe out and +walked up and down the wharf thinking. On’y a month afore I ’ad lent Sam +fifteen shillings on a gold watch and chain wot he said an uncle ’ad left ’im. +I wasn’t wearing it because ’e said ’is uncle wouldn’t like it, but I ’ad it in +my pocket, and I took it out under one of the lamps and wondered wot I ought to +do. +</p> + +<p> +My fust idea was to take it to Mrs. Bullet, and then, all of a sudden, the +thought struck me: “Suppose he ’adn’t come by it honest?” +</p> + +<p> +I walked up and down agin, thinking. If he ’adn’t, and it was found out, it +would blacken his good name and break ’is pore wife’s ’art. That’s the way I +looked at it, and for his sake and ’er sake I determined to stick to it. +</p> + +<p> +I felt ’appier in my mind when I ’ad decided on that, and I went round to the +Bear’s Head and ’ad a pint. Arter that I ’ad another, and then I come back to +the wharf and put the watch and chain on and went on with my work. +</p> + +<p> +Every time I looked down at the chain on my waistcoat it reminded me of Sam. I +looked on to the river and thought of ’im going down on the ebb. Then I got a +sort o’ lonesome feeling standing on the end of the jetty all alone, and I went +back to the Bear’s Head and ’ad another pint. +</p> + +<p> +They didn’t find the body, and I was a’most forgetting about Sam when one +evening, as I was sitting on a box waiting to get my breath back to ’ave +another go at sweeping, Joe Peel, Sam’s mate, came on to the wharf to see me. +</p> + +<p> +He came in a mysterious sort o’ way that I didn’t like: looking be’ind ’im as +though he was afraid of being follered, and speaking in a whisper as if ’e was +afraid of being heard. He wasn’t a man I liked, and I was glad that the watch +and chain was stowed safe away in my trowsis-pocket. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve ’ad a shock, watchman,” he ses. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” I ses. +</p> + +<p> +“A shock wot’s shook me all up,” he ses, working up a shiver. “I’ve seen +something wot I thought people never could see, and wot I never want to see +agin. I’ve seen Sam!” +</p> + +<p> +I thought a bit afore I spoke. “Why, I thought he was drownded,” I ses. +</p> + +<p> +“So ’e is,” ses Joe. “When I say I’ve seen ’im I mean that I ’ave seen his +ghost!” +</p> + +<p> +He began to shiver agin, all over. +</p> + +<p> +“Wot was it like?” I ses, very calm. +</p> + +<p> +“Like Sam,” he ses, rather short. +</p> + +<p> +“When was it?” I ses. +</p> + +<p> +“Last night at a quarter to twelve,” he ses. “It was standing at my front door +waiting for me.” +</p> + +<p> +“And ’ave you been shivering like that ever since?” I ses. +</p> + +<p> +“Worse than that,” ses Joe, looking at me very ’ard. “It’s wearing off now. The +ghost gave me a message for you.” +</p> + +<p> +I put my ’and in my trowsis-pocket and looked at ’im. Then I walked very slow, +towards the gate. +</p> + +<p> +“It gave me a message for you,” ses Joe, walking beside me. “‘We was always +pals, Joe,’” it ses, “‘you and me, and I want you to pay up fifteen bob for me +wot I borrowed off of Bill the watchman. I can’t rest until it’s paid,’ it ses. +So here’s the fifteen bob, watchman.” +</p> + +<p> +He put his ’and in ’is pocket and takes out fifteen bob and ’olds it out to me. +</p> + +<p> +“No, no,” I ses. “I can’t take your money, Joe Peel. It wouldn’t be right. Pore +Sam is welcome to the fifteen bob—I don’t want it.” +</p> + +<p> +“You must take it,” ses Joe. “The ghost said if you didn’t it would come to me +agin and agin till you did, and I can’t stand any more of it.” +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t ’elp your troubles,” I ses. +</p> + +<p> +“You must,” ses Joe. “‘Give Bill the fifteen bob,’ it ses, ‘and he’ll give you +a gold watch and chain wot I gave ’im to mind till it was paid.’” +</p> + +<p> +I see his little game then. “Gold watch and chain,” I ses, laughing. “You must +ha’ misunderstood it, Joe.” +</p> + +<p> +“I understood it right enough,” ses Joe, getting a bit closer to me as I +stepped outside the gate. “Here’s your fifteen bob; are you going to give me +that watch and chain?” +</p> + +<p> +“Sartainly not,” I ses. “I don’t know wot you mean by a watch and chain. If I +’ad it and I gave it to anybody, I should give it to Sam’s widder, not to you.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s nothing to do with ’er,” ses Joe, very quick. “Sam was most pertikler +about that.” +</p> + +<p> +“I expect you dreamt it all,” I ses. “Where would pore Sam get a gold watch and +chain from? And why should ’e go to you about it? Why didn’t ’e come to me? If +’e thinks I ’ave got it let ’im come to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“All right, I’ll go to the police-station,” ses Joe. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll come with you,” I ses. “But ’ere’s a policeman coming along. Let’s go to +’im.” +</p> + +<p> +I moved towards ’im, but Joe hung back, and, arter using one or two words that +would ha’ made any ghost ashamed to know ’im, he sheered off. I ’ad a word or +two with the policeman about the weather, and then I went inside and locked the +gate. +</p> + +<p> +My idea was that Sam ’ad told Joe about the watch and chain afore he fell +overboard. Joe was a nasty customer, and I could see that I should ’ave to be a +bit careful. Some men might ha’ told the police about it—but I never cared much +for them. They’re like kids in a way, always asking questions—most of which you +can’t answer. +</p> + +<p> +It was a little bit creepy all alone on the wharf that night. I don’t deny it. +Twice I thought I ’eard something coming up on tip-toe behind me. The second +time I was so nervous that I began to sing to keep my spirits up, and I went on +singing till three of the hands of the Susan Emily, wot was lying alongside, +came up from the fo’c’sle and offered to fight me. I was thankful when daylight +came. +</p> + +<p> +Five nights arterwards I ’ad the shock of my life. It was the fust night for +some time that there was no craft up. A dark night, and a nasty moaning sort of +a wind. I ’ad just lighted the lamp at the corner of the warehouse, wot ’ad +blown out, and was sitting down to rest afore putting the ladder away, when I +’appened to look along the jetty and saw a head coming up over the edge of it. +In the light of the lamp I saw the dead white face of Sam Bullet’s ghost making +faces at me. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="illus02"></a> +<img src="images/002.jpg" width="466" height="602" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">In the light of the lamp I saw the dead white face of Sam +Bullet’s ghost making faces at me.</p> +</div> + +<p> +I just caught my breath, sharp like, and then turned and ran for the gate like +a race-horse. I ’ad left the key in the padlock, in case of anything happening, +and I just gave it one turn, flung the wicket open and slammed it in the +ghost’s face, and tumbled out into the road. +</p> + +<p> +I ran slap into the arms of a young policeman wot was passing. Nasty, +short-tempered chap he was, but I don’t think I was more glad to see anybody in +my life. I hugged ’im till ’e nearly lost ’is breath, and then he sat me down +on the kerb-stone and asked me wot I meant by it. +</p> + +<p> +Wot with the excitement and the running I couldn’t speak at fust, and when I +did he said I was trying to deceive ’im. +</p> + +<p> +“There ain’t no such thing as ghosts,” he ses; “you’ve been drinking.” +</p> + +<p> +“It came up out o’ the river and run arter me like the wind,” I ses. +</p> + +<p> +“Why didn’t it catch you, then?” he ses, looking me up and down and all round +about. “Talk sense.” +</p> + +<p> +He went up to the gate and peeped in, and, arter watching a moment, stepped +inside and walked down the wharf, with me follering. It was my dooty; besides, +I didn’t like being left all alone by myself. +</p> + +<p> +Twice we walked up and down and all over the wharf. He flashed his lantern into +all the dark corners, into empty barrels and boxes, and then he turned and +flashed it right into my face and shook his ’ead at me. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve been having a bit of a lark with me,” he ses, “and for two pins I’d +take you. Mind, if you say a word about this to anybody, I will.” +</p> + +<p> +He stalked off with his ’ead in the air, and left me all alone in charge of a +wharf with a ghost on it. I stayed outside in the street, of course, but every +now and then I fancied I heard something moving about the other side of the +gate, and once it was so distinct that I run along to the Bear’s Head and +knocked ’em up and asked them for a little brandy, for illness. +</p> + +<p> +I didn’t get it, of course; I didn’t expect to; but I ’ad a little conversation +with the landlord from ’is bedroom-winder that did me more good than the brandy +would ha’ done. Once or twice I thought he would ’ave fallen out, and many a +man has ’ad his licence taken away for less than a quarter of wot ’e said to me +that night. Arter he thought he ’ad finished and was going back to bed agin, I +pointed’ out to ’im that he ’adn’t kissed me “good night,” and if it ’adn’t ha’ +been for ’is missis and two grown-up daughters and the potman I believe he’d +ha’ talked to me till daylight. +</p> + +<p> +’Ow I got through the rest of the night I don’t know. It seemed to be twenty +nights instead of one, but the day came at last, and when the hands came on at +six o’clock they found the gate open and me on dooty same as usual. +</p> + +<p> +I slept like a tired child when I got ’ome, and arter a steak and onions for +dinner I sat down and lit my pipe and tried to think wot was to be done. One +thing I was quite certain about: I wasn’t going to spend another night on that +wharf alone. +</p> + +<p> +I went out arter a bit, as far as the Clarendon Arms, for a breath of fresh +air, and I ’ad just finished a pint and was wondering whether I ought to ’ave +another, when Ted Dennis came in, and my mind was made up. He ’ad been in the +Army all ’is life, and, so far, he ’ad never seen anything that ’ad frightened +’im. I’ve seen him myself take on men twice ’is size just for the love of the +thing, and, arter knocking them silly, stand ’em a pint out of ’is own pocket. +When I asked ’im whether he was afraid of ghosts he laughed so ’ard that the +landlord came from the other end of the bar to see wot was the matter. +</p> + +<p> +I stood Ted a pint, and arter he ’ad finished it I told ’im just how things +was. I didn’t say anything about the watch and chain, because there was no need +to, and when we came outside agin I ’ad engaged an assistant-watchman for +ninepence a night. +</p> + +<p> +“All you’ve got to do,” I ses, “is to keep me company. You needn’t turn up till +eight o’clock of a night, and you can leave ’arf an hour afore me in the +morning.” +</p> + +<p> +“Right-o!” ses Ted. “And if I see the ghost I’ll make it wish it ’ad never been +born.” +</p> + +<p> +It was a load off my mind, and I went ’ome and ate a tea that made my missis +talk about the work-’ouse, and orstritches in ’uman shape wot would eat a woman +out of ’ouse and ’ome if she would let ’em. +</p> + +<p> +I got to the wharf just as it was striking six, and at a quarter to seven the +wicket was pushed open gentle and the ugly ’ead of Mr. Joe Peel was shoved +inside. +</p> + +<p> +“Hullo!” I ses. “Wot do you want?” +</p> + +<p> +“I want to save your life,” he ses, in a solemn voice. “You was within a inch +of death last night, watchman.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” I ses, careless-like. “’Ow do you know!” +</p> + +<p> +“The ghost o’ Sam Bullet told me,” ses Joe. “Arter it ’ad chased you up the +wharf screaming for ’elp, it came round and told me all about it.” +</p> + +<p> +“It seems fond of you,” I ses. “I wonder why?” +</p> + +<p> +“It was in a terrible temper,” ses Joe, “and its face was awful to look at. +‘Tell the watchman,’ it ses, ‘that if he don’t give you the watch and chain I +shall appear to ’im agin and kill ’im.’” +</p> + +<p> +“All right,” I ses, looking behind me to where three of the ’ands of the Daisy +was sitting on the fo’c’sle smoking. “I’ve got plenty of company to-night.” +</p> + +<p> +“Company won’t save you,” ses Joe. “For the last time, are you going to give me +that watch and chain, or not? Here’s your fifteen bob.” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” I ses; “even if I ’ad got it I shouldn’t give it to you; and it’s no use +giving’ it to the ghost, because, being made of air, he ’asn’t got anywhere to +put it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very good,” ses Joe, giving me a black look. “I’ve done all I can to save you, +but if you won’t listen to sense, you won’t. You’ll see Sam Bullet agin, and +you’ll not on’y lose the watch and chain but your life as well.” +</p> + +<p> +“All right,” I ses, “and thank you kindly, but I’ve got an assistant, as it +’appens—a man wot wants to see a ghost.” +</p> + +<p> +“An’ assistant?” ses Joe, staring. +</p> + +<p> +“An old soldier,” I ses. “A man wot likes trouble and danger. His idea is to +shoot the ghost and see wot ’appens.” +</p> + +<p> +“Shoot!” ses Joe. “Shoot a pore ’armless ghost. Does he want to be ’ung? Ain’t +it enough for a pore man to be drownded, but wot you must try and shoot ’im +arterwards? Why, you ought to be ashamed o’ yourself. Where’s your ’art?” +</p> + +<p> +“It won’t be shot if it don’t come on my wharf,” I ses. “Though I don’t mind if +it does when I’ve got somebody with me. I ain’t afraid of anything living, and +I don’t mind ghosts when there’s two of us. Besides which, the noise of the +pistol ’ll wake up ’arf the river.” +</p> + +<p> +“You take care you don’t get woke up,” ses Joe, ’ardly able to speak for +temper. +</p> + +<p> +He went off stamping, and grinding ’is teeth, and at eight o’clock to the +minute, Ted Dennis turned up with ’is pistol and helped me take care of the +wharf. Happy as a skylark ’e was, and to see him ’iding behind a barrel with +his pistol ready, waiting for the ghost, a’most made me forget the expense of +it all. +</p> + +<p> +It never came near us that night, and Ted was a bit disappointed next morning +as he took ’is ninepence and went off. Next night was the same, and the next, +and then Ted gave up hiding on the wharf for it, and sat and snoozed in the +office instead. +</p> + +<p> +A week went by, and then another, and still there was no sign of Sam Bullet’s +ghost, or Joe Peel, and every morning I ’ad to try and work up a smile as I +shelled out ninepence for Ted. It nearly ruined me, and, worse than that, I +couldn’t explain why I was short to the missis. Fust of all she asked me wot I +was spending it on, then she asked me who I was spending it on. It nearly broke +up my ’ome—she did smash one kitchen-chair and a vase off the parlour +mantelpiece—but I wouldn’t tell ’er, and then, led away by some men on strike +at Smith’s wharf, Ted went on strike for a bob a night. +</p> + +<p> +That was arter he ’ad been with me for three weeks, and when Saturday came, of +course I was more short than ever, and people came and stood at their doors all +the way down our street to listen to the missis taking my character away. +</p> + +<p> +I stood it as long as I could, and then, when ’er back was turned for ’arf a +moment, I slipped out. While she’d been talking I’d been thinking, and it came +to me clear as daylight that there was no need for me to sacrifice myself any +longer looking arter a dead man’s watch and chain. +</p> + +<p> +I didn’t know exactly where Joe Peel lived, but I knew the part, and arter +peeping into seven public-’ouses I see the man I wanted sitting by ’imself in a +little bar. I walked in quiet-like, and sat down opposite ’im. +</p> + +<p> +“Morning,” I ses. +</p> + +<p> +Joe Peel grunted. +</p> + +<p> +“’Ave one with me?” I ses. +</p> + +<p> +He grunted agin, but not quite so fierce, and I fetched the two pints from the +counter and took a seat alongside of ’im. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve been looking for you,” I ses. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” he ses, looking me up and down and all over. “Well, you’ve found me now.” +</p> + +<p> +“I want to talk to you about the ghost of pore Sam Bullet,” I ses. +</p> + +<p> +Joe Peel put ’is mug down sudden and looked at me fierce. “Look ’ere! Don’t you +come and try to be funny with me,” he ses. “’Cos I won’t ’ave it.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t want to be funny,” I ses. “Wot I want to know is, are you in the same +mind about that watch and chain as you was the other day?” +</p> + +<p> +He didn’t seem to be able to speak at fust, but arter a time ’e gives a gasp. +“Woes the game?” he ses. +</p> + +<p> +“Wot I want to know is, if I give you that watch and chain for fifteen bob, +will that keep the ghost from ’anging round my wharf agin?” I ses. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, o’ course,” he ses, staring; “but you ain’t been seeing it agin, ’ave +you?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve not, and I don’t want to,” I ses. “If it wants you to ’ave the watch and +chain, give me the fifteen bob, and it’s yours.” +</p> + +<p> +He looked at me for a moment as if he couldn’t believe ’is eyesight, and then +’e puts his ’and into ’is trowsis-pocket and pulls out one shilling and +fourpence, ’arf a clay-pipe, and a bit o’ lead-pencil. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s all I’ve got with me,” he ses. “I’ll owe you the rest. You ought to ha’ +took the fifteen bob when I ’ad it.” +</p> + +<p> +There was no ’elp for it, and arter making ’im swear to give me the rest o’ the +money when ’e got it, and that I shouldn’t see the ghost agin, I ’anded the +things over to ’im and came away. He came to the door to see me off, and if +ever a man looked puzzled, ’e did. Pleased at the same time. +</p> + +<p> +It was a load off of my mind. My con-science told me I’d done right, and arter +sending a little boy with a note to Ted Dennis to tell ’im not to come any +more, I felt ’appier than I ’ad done for a long time. When I got to the wharf +that evening it seemed like a diff’rent place, and I was whistling and smiling +over my work quite in my old way, when the young policeman passed. +</p> + +<p> +“Hullo!” he ses. “’Ave you seen the ghost agin?” +</p> + +<p> +“I ’ave not,” I ses, drawing myself up. “’Ave you?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” he ses. +</p> + +<p> +“We missed it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Missed it?” I ses, staring at ’im. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” he ses, nodding. “The day arter you came out screaming, and cuddling me +like a frightened baby, it shipped as A.B. on the barque Ocean King, for +Valparaiso. We missed it by a few hours. Next time you see a ghost, knock it +down fust and go and cuddle the police arterwards.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap05"></a>BEDRIDDEN</h2> + +<p> +July 12, 1915.—Disquieting rumours to the effect that epidemic of Billetitis +hitherto confined to the north of King’s Road shows signs of spreading. +</p> + +<p> +July 14.—Report that two Inns of Court men have been seen peeping over my gate. +</p> + +<p> +July 16.—Informed that soldier of agreeable appearance and charming manners +requests interview with me. Took a dose of Phospherine and went. Found +composite photograph of French, Joffre, and Hindenburg waiting for me in the +hall. Smiled (he did, I mean) and gave me the mutilated form of salute reserved +for civilians. Introduced himself as Quartermaster-Sergeant Beddem, and stated +that the Inns of Court O.T.C. was going under canvas next week. After which he +gulped. Meantime could I take in a billet. Questioned as to what day the corps +was going into camp said that he believed it was Monday, but was not quite +sure—might possibly be Tuesday. Swallowed again and coughed a little. Accepted +billet and felt completely re-warded by smile. Q.M.S. bade me good-bye, and +then with the air of a man suddenly remembering something, asked me whether I +could take two. Excused myself and interviewed my C.O. behind the dining-room +door. Came back and accepted. Q.M.S. so overjoyed (apparently) that he fell +over the scraper. Seemed to jog his memory. He paused, and gazing in absent +fashion at the topmost rose on the climber in the porch, asked whether I could +take three! Added hopefully that the third was only a boy. Excused myself. +Heated debate with C.O. Subject: sheets. Returned with me to explain to the +Q.M.S. He smiled. C.O. accepted at once, and, returning smile, expressed regret +at size and position of bedrooms available. Q.M.S. went off swinging cane +jauntily. +</p> + +<p> +July 17.—Billets arrived. Spoke to them about next Monday and canvas. They +seemed surprised. Strange how the military authorities decline to take men into +their confidence merely because they are privates. Let them upstairs. They went +(for first and last time) on tiptoe. +</p> + +<p> +July 18.—Saw Q.M.S. Beddem in the town. Took shelter in the King’s Arms. +</p> + +<p> +Jug. 3.—Went to Cornwall. +</p> + +<p> +Aug. 31.—Returned. Billets received me very hospitably. +</p> + +<p> +Sept. 4.—Private Budd, electrical engineer, dissatisfied with appearance of +bell-push in dining-room, altered it. +</p> + +<p> +Sept. 5.—Bells out of order. +</p> + +<p> +Sept. 6.—Private Merited, also an electrical engineer, helped Private Budd to +repair bells. +</p> + +<p> +Sept. 7.—Private Budd helped Private Merited to repair bells. +</p> + +<p> +Sept. 8.—Privates Budd and Merited helped each other to repair bells. +</p> + +<p> +Sept. 9.—Sent to local tradesman to put my bells in order. +</p> + +<p> +Sept. 15.—Told that Q.M.S. Beddem wished to see me. Saw C.O. first. She thought +he had possibly come to take some of the billets away. Q.M.S. met my approach +with a smile that re-minded me vaguely of picture-postcards I had seen. +Awfully sorry to trouble me, but Private Montease, just back from three weeks’ +holiday with bronchitis, was sleeping in the wood-shed on three planks and a +tin-tack. Beamed at me and waited. Went and bought another bed-stead. +</p> + +<p> +Sept. 16.—Private Montease and a cough entered into residence. +</p> + +<p> +Sept. 17, 11.45 p.m.—Maid came to bedroom-door with some cough lozenges which +she asked me to take to the new billet. Took them. Private Montease thanked me, +but said he didn’t mind coughing. Said it was an heirloom; Montease cough, +known in highest circles all over Scotland since time of Young Pretender. +</p> + +<p> +Sept. 20.—Private Montease installed in easy-chair in dining-room with touch of +bronchitis, looking up trains to Bournemouth. +</p> + +<p> +Sept. 21.—Private Montease in bed all day. Cook anxious “to do her bit” rubbed +his chest with home-made embrocation. Believe it is same stuff she rubs chests +in hall with. Smells the same anyway. +</p> + +<p> +Sept. 24.—Private Montease, complaining of slight rawness of chest, but +otherwise well, returned to duty. +</p> + +<p> +Oct. 5.—Cough worse again. Private Montease thinks that with care it may turn +to bronchitis. Borrowed an A.B.C. +</p> + +<p> +Oct. 6.—Private Montease relates uncanny experience. Woke up with feeling of +suffocation to find an enormous black-currant and glycerine jujube wedged in +his gullet. Never owned such a thing in his life. Seems to be unaware that he +always sleeps with his mouth open. +</p> + +<p> +Nov. 14.—Private Bowser, youngest and tallest of my billets, gazetted. +</p> + +<p> +Nov. 15, 10.35 a.m.—Private Bowser in tip-top spirits said good-bye to us all. +</p> + +<p> +10.45.—Told that Q.M.S. Beddem desired to see me. Capitulated. New billet, +Private Early, armed to the teeth, turned up in the evening. Said that he was a +Yorkshireman. Said that Yorkshire was the finest county in England, and +Yorkshiremen the finest men in the world. Stood toying with his bayonet and +waiting for contradiction. +</p> + +<p> +Jan. 5, 1916.—Standing in the garden just after lunch was witness to startling +phenomenon. Q.M.S. Beddem came towards front-gate with a smile so expansive +that gate after first trembling violently on its hinges swung open of its own +accord. Q.M.S., with smile (sad), said he was in trouble. Very old member of +the Inns of Court, Private Keen, had re-joined, and he wanted a good billet for +him. Would cheerfully give up his own bed, but it wasn’t long enough. Not to be +outdone in hospitality by my own gate accepted Private Keen. Q.M.S. digging +hole in my path with toe of right boot, and for first and only time manifesting +signs of nervousness, murmured that two life-long friends of Private Keen’s had +rejoined with him. Known as the Three Inseparables. Where they were to sleep, +unless I——. Fled to house, and locking myself in top-attic watched Q.M.S. from +window. He departed with bent head and swagger-cane reversed. +</p> + +<p> +Jan 6.—Private Keen arrived. Turned out to be son of an old Chief of mine. +Resolved not to visit the sins of the father on the head of a child six feet +two high and broad in proportion. +</p> + +<p> +Feb. 6.—Private Keen came home with a temperature. +</p> + +<p> +Feb. 7.—M.O. diagnosed influenza. Was afraid it would spread. +</p> + +<p> +Feb. 8.—Warned the other four billets. They seemed amused. Pointed out that +influenza had no terrors for men in No. 2 Company, who were doomed to weekly +night-ops. under Major Carryon. +</p> + +<p> +Feb. 9.—House strangely and pleasantly quiet. Went to see how Private Keen was +progressing, and found the other four billets sitting in a row on his bed +practising deep-breathing exercises. +</p> + +<p> +Feb. 16.—Billets on night-ops. until late hour. Spoke in highest terms of Major +Carryon’s marching powers—also in other terms. +</p> + +<p> +March 3.—Waited up until midnight for Private Merited, who had gone to Slough +on his motor-bike. +</p> + +<p> +March 4, 1.5 a.m.—Awakened by series of explosions from over-worked, or +badly-worked, motor-bike. Put head out of window and threw key to Private +Merited. He seemed excited. Said he had been chased all the way from Chesham by +a pink rat with yellow spots. Advised him to go to bed. Set him an example. +</p> + +<p> +1.10. a.m.—Heard somebody in the pantry. 2.10. a.m.—Heard Private Merited going +upstairs to bed. +</p> + +<p> +2.16 a.m.—Heard Private Merited still going upstairs to bed. +</p> + +<p> +2.20-3.15. a.m.—Heard Private Merited getting to bed. +</p> + +<p> +April 3, 12.30 a.m.—Town-hooter announced Zeppelins and excited soldier called +up my billets from their beds to go and frighten them off. Pleasant to see +superiority of billets over the hooter: that only emitted three blasts. +</p> + +<p> +12.50 a.m.—Billets returned with exception of Private Merited, who was retained +for sake of his motor-bike. +</p> + +<p> +9 a.m.—On way to bath-room ran into Private Merited, who, looking very glum and +sleepy, inquired whether I had a copy of the Exchange and Mart in the house. +</p> + +<p> +10 p.m.—Overheard billets discussing whether it was worth while removing boots +before going to bed until the Zeppelin scare was over. Joined in discussion. +</p> + +<p> +May 2.—Rumours that the Inns of Court were going under canvas. Discredited +them. +</p> + +<p> +May 5.—Rumours grow stronger. +</p> + +<p> +May 6.—Billets depressed. Begin to think perhaps there is something in rumours +after all. +</p> + +<p> +May 9.-All doubts removed. Tents begin to spring up with the suddenness of +mushrooms in fields below Berkhamsted Place. +</p> + +<p> +May 18, LIBERATION DAY.—Bade a facetious good-bye to my billets; response +lacking in bonhomie. +</p> + +<p> +May 19.-House delightfully quiet. Presented caller of unkempt appearance at +back-door with remains of pair of military boots, three empty shaving-stick +tins, and a couple of partially bald tooth-brushes. +</p> + +<p> +May 21.—In afternoon went round and looked at camp. Came home smiling, and went +to favourite seat in garden to smoke. Discovered Private Early lying on it fast +asleep. Went to study. Private Merited at table writing long and well-reasoned +letter to his tailor. As he said he could never write properly with anybody +else in the room, left him and went to bath-room. Door locked. Peevish but +familiar voice, with a Scotch accent, asked me what I wanted; also complained +of temperature of water. +</p> + +<p> +May 22.—After comparing notes with neighbours, feel deeply grateful to Q.M.S. +Beddem for sending me the best six men in the corps. +</p> + +<p> +July 15.—Feel glad to have been associated, however remotely and humbly, with a +corps, the names of whose members appear on the Roll of Honour of every British +regiment. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap06"></a>THE CONVERT</h2> + +<p> +Mr. Purnip took the arm of the new recruit and hung over him almost tenderly as +they walked along; Mr. Billing, with a look of conscious virtue on his jolly +face, listened with much satisfaction to his friend’s compliments. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s such an example,” said the latter. “Now we’ve got you the others will +follow like sheep. You will be a bright lamp in the darkness.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wot’s good enough for me ought to be good enough for them,” said Mr. Billing, +modestly. “They’d better not let me catch—” +</p> + +<p> +“H’sh! H’sh!” breathed Mr. Purnip, tilting his hat and wiping his bald, +benevolent head. +</p> + +<p> +“I forgot,” said the other, with something like a sigh. “No more fighting; but +suppose somebody hits me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Turn the other cheek,” replied Mr. Purnip. +</p> + +<p> +“They won’t hit that; and when they see you standing there smiling at them—” +</p> + +<p> +“After being hit?” interrupted Mr. Billing. +</p> + +<p> +“After being hit,” assented the other, “they’ll be ashamed of themselves, and +it’ll hurt them more than if you struck them.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let’s ’ope so,” said the convert; “but it don’t sound reasonable. I can hit a +man pretty ’ard. Not that I’m bad-tempered, mind you; a bit quick, p’r’aps. +And, after all, a good smack in the jaw saves any amount of argufying.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Purnip smiled, and, as they walked along, painted a glowing picture of the +influence to be wielded by a first-class fighting-man who refused to fight. It +was a rough neighbourhood, and he recognized with sorrow that more respect was +paid to a heavy fist than to a noble intellect or a loving heart. +</p> + +<p> +“And you combine them all,” he said, patting his companion’s arm. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Billing smiled. “You ought to know best,” he said, modestly. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll be surprised to find how easy it is,” continued Mr. Purnip. “You will +go from strength to strength. Old habits will disappear, and you will hardly +know you have lost them. In a few months’ time you will probably be wondering +what you could ever have seen in beer, for example.” +</p> + +<p> +“I thought you said you didn’t want me to give up beer?” said the other. +</p> + +<p> +“We don’t,” said Mr. Purnip. “I mean that as you grow in stature you will +simply lose the taste for it.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Billing came to a sudden full stop. “D’ye mean I shall lose my liking for a +drop o’ beer without being able to help myself?” he demanded, in an anxious +voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course, it doesn’t happen in every case,” he said, hastily. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Billing’s features relaxed. “Well, let’s ’ope I shall be one of the +fortunate ones,” he said, simply. “I can put up with a good deal, but when it +comes to beer——” +</p> + +<p> +“We shall see,” said the other, smiling. +</p> + +<p> +“We don’t want to interfere with anybody’s comfort; we want to make them +happier, that’s all. A little more kindness between man and man; a little more +consideration for each other; a little more brightness in dull lives.” +</p> + +<p> +He paused at the corner of the street, and, with a hearty handshake, went off. +Mr. Billing, a prey to somewhat mixed emotions, continued on his way home. The +little knot of earnest men and women who had settled in the district to spread +light and culture had been angling for him for some time. He wondered, as he +walked, what particular bait it was that had done the mischief. +</p> + +<p> +“They’ve got me at last,” he remarked, as he opened the house-door and walked +into his small kitchen. “I couldn’t say ‘no’ to Mr. Purnip.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wish ’em joy,” said Mrs. Billing, briefly. “Did you wipe your boots?” +</p> + +<p> +Her husband turned without a word, and, retreating to the mat, executed a +prolonged double-shuffle. +</p> + +<p> +“You needn’t wear it out,” said the surprised Mrs. Billing. +</p> + +<p> +“We’ve got to make people ’appier,” said her husband, seriously; “be kinder to +’em, and brighten up their dull lives a bit. That’s wot Mr. Purnip says.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll brighten ’em up all right,” declared Mrs. Billing, with a sniff. “I +sha’n’t forget last Tuesday week—no, not if I live to be a hundred. You’d ha’ +brightened up the police-station if I ’adn’t got you home just in the nick of +time.” +</p> + +<p> +Her husband, who was by this time busy under the scullery-tap, made no reply. +He came from it spluttering, and, seizing a small towel, stood in the door-way +burnishing his face and regarding his wife with a smile which Mr. Purnip +himself could not have surpassed. He sat down to supper, and between bites +explained in some detail the lines on which his future life was to be run. As +an earnest of good faith, he consented, after a short struggle, to a slip of +oil-cloth for the passage; a pair of vases for the front room; and a new and +somewhat expensive corn-cure for Mrs. Billing. +</p> + +<p> +“And let’s ’ope you go on as you’ve begun,” said that gratified lady. “There’s +something in old Purnip after all. I’ve been worrying you for months for that +oilcloth. Are you going to help me wash up? Mr. Purnip would.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Billing appeared not to hear, and, taking up his cap, strolled slowly in +the direction of the Blue Lion. It was a beautiful summer evening, and his +bosom swelled as he thought of the improvements that a little brotherliness +might effect in Elk Street. Engrossed in such ideas, it almost hurt him to find +that, as he entered one door of the Blue Lion, two gentlemen, forgetting all +about their beer, disappeared through the other. +</p> + +<p> +“Wot ’ave they run away like that for?” he demanded, looking round. “I wouldn’t +hurt ’em.” +</p> + +<p> +“Depends on wot you call hurting, Joe,” said a friend. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Billing shook his head. “They’ve no call to be afraid of me,” he said, +gravely. “I wouldn’t hurt a fly; I’ve got a new ’art.” +</p> + +<p> +“A new wot?” inquired his friend, staring. +</p> + +<p> +“A new ’art,” repeated the other. “I’ve given up fighting and swearing, and +drinking too much. I’m going to lead a new life and do all the good I can; I’m +going—” +</p> + +<p> +“Glory! Glory!” ejaculated a long, thin youth, and, making a dash for the door, +disappeared. +</p> + +<p> +“He’ll know me better in time,” said Mr. Billing. “Why, I wouldn’t hurt a fly. +I want to do good to people; not to hurt ’em. I’ll have a pint,” he added, +turning to the bar. +</p> + +<p> +“Not here you won’t,” said the landlord, eyeing him coldly. +</p> + +<p> +“Why not?” demanded the astonished Mr. Billing. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve had all you ought to have already,” was the reply. “And there’s one +thing I’ll swear to—you ain’t had it ’ere.” +</p> + +<p> +“I haven’t ’ad a drop pass my lips began the outraged Mr. Billing. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I know,” said the other, wearily, as he shifted one or two glasses and +wiped the counter; “I’ve heard it all before, over and over again. Mind you, +I’ve been in this business thirty years, and if I don’t know when a man’s had +his whack, and a drop more, nobody does. You get off ’ome and ask your missis +to make you a nice cup o’ good strong tea, and then get up to bed and sleep it +off.” +</p> + +<p> +“I dare say,” said Mr. Billing, with cold dignity, as he paused at the door—“I +dare say I may give up beer altogether.” +</p> + +<p> +He stood outside pondering over the unforeseen difficulties attendant upon his +new career, moving a few inches to one side as Mr. Ricketts, a foe of long +standing, came towards the public-house, and, halting a yard or two away, eyed +him warily. +</p> + +<p> +“Come along,” said Mr. Billing, speaking somewhat loudly, for the benefit of +the men in the bar; “I sha’n’t hurt you; my fighting days are over.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I dessay,” replied the other, edging away. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s all right, Bill,” said a mutual friend, through the half-open door; “he’s +got a new ’art.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Ricketts looked perplexed. “’Art disease, d’ye mean?” he inquired, +hopefully. “Can’t he fight no more?” +</p> + +<p> +“A new ’art,” said Mr. Billing. “It’s as strong as ever it was, but it’s +changed—brother.” +</p> + +<p> +“If you call me ‘brother’ agin I’ll give you something for yourself, and chance +it,” said Mr. Ricketts, ferociously. “I’m a pore man, but I’ve got my pride.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Billing, with a smile charged with brotherly love, leaned his left cheek +towards him. “Hit it,” he said, gently. +</p> + +<p> +“Give it a smack and run, Bill,” said the voice of a well-wisher inside. +</p> + +<p> +“There’d be no need for ’im to run,” said Mr. Billing. “I wouldn’t hit ’im back +for anything. I should turn the other cheek.” +</p> + +<p> +“Whaffor?” inquired the amazed Mr. Ricketts. +</p> + +<p> +“For another swipe,” said Mr. Billing, radiantly. +</p> + +<p> +In the fraction of a second he got the first, and reeled back staggering. The +onlookers from the bar came out hastily. Mr. Ricketts, somewhat pale, stood his +ground. +</p> + +<p> +“You see, I don’t hit you,” said Mr. Billing, with a ghastly attempt at a +smile. +</p> + +<p> +He stood rubbing his cheek gently, and, remembering Mr. Purnip’s statements, +slowly, inch by inch, turned the other in the direction of his adversary. The +circuit was still incomplete when Mr. Ricketts, balancing himself carefully, +fetched it a smash that nearly burst it. Mr. Billing, somewhat jarred by his +contact with the pavement, rose painfully and confronted him. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve only got two cheeks, mind,” he said, slowly. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Ricketts sighed. “I wish you’d got a blinking dozen,” he said, wistfully. +“Well, so long. Be good.” +</p> + +<p> +He walked into the Blue Lion absolutely free from that sense of shame which Mr. +Purnip had predicted, and, accepting a pint from an admirer, boasted noisily of +his exploit. Mr. Billing, suffering both mentally and physically, walked slowly +home to his astonished wife. +</p> + +<p> +“P’r’aps he’ll be ashamed of hisself when ’e comes to think it over,” he +murmured, as Mrs. Billing, rendered almost perfect by practice, administered +first aid. +</p> + +<p> +“I s’pect he’s crying his eyes out,” she said, with a sniff. “Tell me if that +’urts.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Billing told her, then, suddenly remembering himself, issued an expurgated +edition. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sorry for the next man that ’its you,” said his wife, as she drew back and +regarded her handiwork. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Well, you needn’t be,” said Mr. Billing, with dignity. “It would take more +than a couple o’ props in the jaw to make me alter my mind when I’ve made it +up. You ought to know that by this time. Hurry up and finish. I want you to go +to the corner and fetch me a pot.” +</p> + +<p> +“What, ain’t you going out agin?” demanded his astonished wife. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Billing shook his head. “Somebody else might want to give me one,” he said, +resignedly, “and I’ve ’ad about all I want to-night.” +</p> + +<p> +His face was still painful next morning, but as he sat at breakfast in the +small kitchen he was able to refer to Mr. Ricketts in terms which were an +eloquent testimony to Mr. Purnip’s teaching. Mrs. Billing, unable to contain +herself, wandered off into the front room with a duster. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you nearly ready to go?” she inquired, returning after a short interval. +</p> + +<p> +“Five minutes,” said Mr. Billing, nodding. “I’ll just light my pipe and then +I’m off.” +</p> + +<p> +“’Cos there’s two or three waiting outside for you,” added his wife. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Billing rose. “Ho, is there?” he said, grimly, as he removed his coat and +proceeded to roll up his shirt-sleeves. “I’ll learn ’em. I’ll give ’em +something to wait for. I’ll——” +</p> + +<p> +His voice died away as he saw the triumph in his wife’s face, and, drawing down +his sleeves again, he took up his coat and stood eyeing her in genuine +perplexity. +</p> + +<p> +“Tell ’em I’ve gorn,” he said, at last. +</p> + +<p> +“And what about telling lies?” demanded his wife. “What would your Mr. Purnip +say to that?” +</p> + +<p> +“You do as you’re told,” exclaimed the harassed Mr. Billing. “I’m not going to +tell ’em; it’s you.” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Billing returned to the parlour, and, with Mr. Billing lurking in the +background, busied herself over a china flower-pot that stood in the window, +and turned an anxious eye upon three men waiting outside. After a glance or two +she went to the door. +</p> + +<p> +“Did you want to see my husband?” she inquired. +</p> + +<p> +The biggest of the three nodded. “Yus,” he said, shortly. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sorry,” said Mrs. Billing, “but he ’ad to go early this morning. Was it +anything partikler?” +</p> + +<p> +“Gorn?” said the other, in disappointed tones. “Well, you tell ’im I’ll see ’im +later on.” +</p> + +<p> +He turned away, and, followed by the other two, walked slowly up the road. Mr. +Billing, after waiting till the coast was clear, went off in the other +direction. +</p> + +<p> +He sought counsel of his friend and mentor that afternoon, and stood beaming +with pride at the praise lavished upon him. Mr. Purnip’s co-workers were no +less enthusiastic than their chief; and various suggestions were made to Mr. +Billing as to his behaviour in the unlikely event of further attacks upon his +noble person. +</p> + +<p> +He tried to remember the suggestions in the harassing days that followed; +baiting Joe Billing becoming popular as a pastime from which no evil results +need be feared. It was creditable to his fellow-citizens that most of them +refrained from violence with a man who declined to hit back, but as a butt his +success was assured. The night when a gawky lad of eighteen drank up his beer, +and then invited him to step outside if he didn’t like it, dwelt long in his +memory. And Elk Street thrilled one evening at the sight of their erstwhile +champion flying up the road hotly pursued by a foeman half his size. His +explanation to his indignant wife that, having turned the other cheek the night +before, he was in no mood for further punishment, was received in chilling +silence. +</p> + +<p> +“They’ll soon get tired of it,” he said, hopefully; “and I ain’t going to be +beat by a lot of chaps wot I could lick with one ’and tied behind me. They’ll +get to understand in time; Mr. Purnip says so. It’s a pity that you don’t try +and do some good yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Billing received the suggestion with a sniff; but the seed was sown. She +thought the matter over in private, and came to the conclusion that, if her +husband wished her to participate in good works, it was not for her to deny +him. Hitherto her efforts in that direction had been promptly suppressed; Mr. +Billing’s idea being that if a woman looked after her home and her husband +properly there should be neither time nor desire for anything else. His +surprise on arriving home to tea on Saturday afternoon, and finding a couple of +hard-working neighbours devouring his substance, almost deprived him of speech. +</p> + +<p> +“Poor things,” said his wife, after the guests had gone; “they did enjoy it. +It’s cheered ’em up wonderful. You and Mr. Purnip are quite right. I can see +that now. You can tell him that it was you what put it into my ’art.” +</p> + +<p> +“Me? Why, I never dreamt o’ such a thing,” declared the surprised Mr. Billing. +“And there’s other ways of doing good besides asking a pack of old women in to +tea.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know there is,” said his wife. “All in good time,” she added, with a +far-away look in her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Billing cleared his throat, but nothing came of it. He cleared it again. +</p> + +<p> +“I couldn’t let you do all the good,” said his wife, hastily. “It wouldn’t be +fair. I must help.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Billing lit his pipe noisily, and then took it out into the back-yard and +sat down to think over the situation. The ungenerous idea that his wife was +making goodness serve her own ends was the first that occurred to him. +</p> + +<p> +His suspicions increased with time. Mrs. Billing’s good works seemed to be +almost entirely connected with hospitality. True, she had entertained Mr. +Purnip and one of the ladies from the Settlement to tea, but that only riveted +his bonds more firmly. Other visitors included his sister-in-law, for whom he +had a great distaste, and some of the worst-behaved children in the street. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s only high spirits,” said Mrs. Billing; “all children are like that. And I +do it to help the mothers.” +</p> + +<p> +“And ’cos you like children,” said her husband, preserving his good-humour +with an effort. +</p> + +<p> +There was a touch of monotony about the new life, and the good deeds that +accompanied it, which, to a man of ardent temperament, was apt to pall. And Elk +Street, instead of giving him the credit which was his due, preferred to +ascribe the change in his behaviour to what they called being “a bit barmy on +the crumpet.” +</p> + +<p> +He came home one evening somewhat dejected, brightening up as he stood in the +passage and inhaled the ravishing odours from the kitchen. Mrs. Billing, with a +trace of nervousness somewhat unaccountable in view of the excellent quality of +the repast provided, poured him out a glass of beer, and passed flattering +comment upon his appearance. +</p> + +<p> +“Wot’s the game?” he inquired. +</p> + +<p> +“Game?” repeated his wife, in a trembling voice. “Nothing. ’Ow do you find that +steak-pudding? I thought of giving you one every Wednesday.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Billing put down his knife and fork and sat regarding her thoughtfully. +Then he pushed back his chair suddenly, and, a picture of consternation and +wrath, held up his hand for silence. +</p> + +<p> +“W-w-wot is it?” he demanded. “A cat?” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Billing made no reply, and her husband sprang to his feet as a long, thin +wailing sounded through the house. A note of temper crept into it and +strengthened it. +</p> + +<p> +“Wot is it?” demanded Mr. Billing again. “It’s—it’s Mrs. Smith’s Charlie,” +stammered his wife. +</p> + +<p> +“In—in my bedroom?” exclaimed her husband, in incredulous accents. “Wot’s it +doing there?” +</p> + +<p> +“I took it for the night,” said his wife hurriedly. “Poor thing, what with the +others being ill she’s ’ad a dreadful time, and she said if I’d take Charlie +for a few—for a night, she might be able to get some sleep.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Billing choked. “And what about my sleep?” he shouted. “Chuck it outside at +once. D’ye hear me?” +</p> + +<p> +His words fell on empty air, his wife having already sped upstairs to pacify +Master Smith by a rhythmical and monotonous thumping on the back. Also she +lifted up a thin and not particularly sweet voice and sang to him. Mr. Billing, +finishing his supper in indignant silence, told himself grimly that he was +“beginning to have enough of it.” +</p> + +<p> +He spent the evening at the Charlton Arms, and, returning late, went slowly and +heavily up to bed. In the light of a shaded candle he saw a small, +objectionable-looking infant fast asleep on two chairs by the side of the bed. +</p> + +<p> +“H’sh!” said his wife, in a thrilling whisper. “He’s just gone off.” +</p> + +<p> +“D’ye mean I mustn’t open my mouth in my own bedroom?” demanded the indignant +man, loudly. +</p> + +<p> +“H’sh!” said his wife again. +</p> + +<p> +It was too late. Master Smith, opening first one eye and then the other, +finished by opening his mouth. The noise was appalling. +</p> + +<p> +“H’sh! H’sh!” repeated Mrs. Billing, as her husband began to add to the noise. +“Don’t wake ’im right up.” +</p> + +<p> +“Right up?” repeated the astonished man. “Right up? Why, is he doing this in +’is sleep?” +</p> + +<p> +He subsided into silence, and, undressing with stealthy care, crept into bed +and lay there, marvelling at his self-control. He was a sound sleeper, but six +times at least he was awakened by Mrs. Billing slipping out of bed—regardless +of draughts to her liege lord—and marching up and down the room with the +visitor in her arms. He rose in the morning and dressed in ominous silence. +</p> + +<p> +“I ’ope he didn’t disturb you,” said his wife, anxiously. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve done it,” replied Mr. Billing. “You’ve upset everything now. Since I +joined the Purnip lot everybody’s took advantage of me; now I’m going to get +some of my own back. You wouldn’t ha’ dreamt of behaving like this a few weeks +ago.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Joe!” said his wife, entreatingly; “and everybody’s been so happy!” +</p> + +<p> +“Except me,” retorted Joe Billing. “You come down and get my breakfast ready. +If I start early I shall catch Mr. Bill Ricketts on ’is way to work. And mind, +if I find that steam-orgin ’ere when I come ’ome to-night you’ll hear of it.” +</p> + +<p> +He left the house with head erect and the light of battle in his eyes, and, +meeting Mr. Ricketts at the corner, gave that justly aggrieved gentleman the +surprise of his life. Elk Street thrilled to the fact that Mr. Billing had +broken out again, and spoke darkly of what the evening might bring forth. +Curious eyes followed his progress as he returned home from work, and a little +later on the news was spread abroad that he was out and paying off old scores +with an ardour that nothing could withstand. +</p> + +<p> +“And wot about your change of ’art?” demanded one indignant matron, as her +husband reached home five seconds ahead of Mr. Billing and hid in the scullery. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s changed agin,” said Mr. Billing, simply. +</p> + +<p> +He finished the evening in the Blue Lion, where he had one bar almost to +himself, and, avoiding his wife’s reproachful glance when he arrived home, +procured some warm water and began to bathe his honourable scars. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Purnip ’as been round with another gentleman,” said his wife. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Billing said, “Oh!” +</p> + +<p> +“Very much upset they was, and ’ope you’ll go and see them,” she continued. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Billing said “Oh!” again; and, after thinking the matter over, called next +day at the Settlement and explained his position. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s all right for gentlemen like you,” he said civilly. “But a man. like me +can’t call his soul ’is own—or even ’is bedroom. Everybody takes advantage of +’im. Nobody ever gives you a punch, and, as for putting babies in your bedroom, +they wouldn’t dream of it.” +</p> + +<p> +He left amid expressions of general regret, turning a deaf ear to all +suggestions about making another start, and went off exulting in his freedom. +</p> + +<p> +His one trouble was Mr. Purnip, that estimable gentleman, who seemed to have a +weird gift of meeting him at all sorts of times and places, never making any +allusion to his desertion, but showing quite clearly by his manner that he +still hoped for the return of the wanderer. It was awkward for a man of +sensitive disposition, and Mr. Billing, before entering a street, got into the +habit of peering round the corner first. +</p> + +<p> +He pulled up suddenly one evening as he saw his tenacious friend, accompanied +by a lady-member, some little distance ahead. Then he sprang forward with fists +clenched as a passer-by, after scowling at Mr. Purnip, leaned forward and +deliberately blew a mouthful of smoke into the face of his companion. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Billing stopped again and stood gaping with astonishment. The aggressor was +getting up from the pavement, while Mr. Purnip, in an absolutely correct +attitude, stood waiting for him. Mr. Billing in a glow of delight edged +forward, and, with a few other fortunates, stood by watching one of the best +fights that had ever been seen in the district. Mr. Purnip’s foot-work was +excellent, and the way he timed his blows made Mr. Billing’s eyes moist with +admiration. +</p> + +<p> +It was over at last. The aggressor went limping off, and Mr. Purnip, wiping his +bald head, picked up his battered and dusty hat from the roadway and brushed it +on his sleeve. He turned with a start and a blush to meet the delighted gaze of +Mr. Billing. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m ashamed of myself,” he murmured, brokenly—“ashamed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ashamed!” exclaimed the amazed Mr. Billing. “Why, a pro couldn’t ha’ done +better.” +</p> + +<p> +“Such an awful example,” moaned the other. “All my good work here thrown away.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you believe it, sir,” said Mr. Billing, earnestly. “As soon as this gets +about you’ll get more members than you want a’most. I’m coming back, for one.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Purnip turned and grasped his hand. +</p> + +<p> +“I understand things now,” said Mr. Billing, nodding sagely. “Turning the other +cheek’s all right so long as you don’t do it always. If you don’t let ’em know +whether you are going to turn the other cheek or knock their blessed heads off, +it’s all right. ’Arf the trouble in the world is caused by letting people know +too much.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap07"></a>HUSBANDRY</h2> + +<p> +Dealing with a man, said the night-watchman, thoughtfully, is as easy as a +teetotaller walking along a nice wide pavement; dealing with a woman is like +the same teetotaller, arter four or five whiskies, trying to get up a step that +ain’t there. If a man can’t get ’is own way he eases ’is mind with a little +nasty language, and then forgets all about it; if a woman can’t get ’er own way +she flies into a temper and reminds you of something you oughtn’t to ha’ done +ten years ago. Wot a woman would do whose ’usband had never done anything wrong +I can’t think. +</p> + +<p> +I remember a young feller telling me about a row he ’ad with ’is wife once. He +’adn’t been married long and he talked as if the way she carried on was +unusual. Fust of all, he said, she spoke to ’im in a cooing sort o’ voice and +pulled his moustache, then when he wouldn’t give way she worked herself up into +a temper and said things about ’is sister. Arter which she went out o’ the room +and banged the door so hard it blew down a vase off the fireplace. Four times +she came back to tell ’im other things she ’ad thought of, and then she got so +upset she ’ad to go up to bed and lay down instead of getting his tea. When +that didn’t do no good she refused her food, and when ’e took her up toast and +tea she wouldn’t look at it. Said she wanted to die. He got quite uneasy till +’e came ’ome the next night and found the best part of a loaf o’ bread, a +quarter o’ butter, and a couple o’ chops he ’ad got in for ’is supper had gorn; +and then when he said ’e was glad she ’ad got ’er appetite back she turned +round and said that he grudged ’er the food she ate. +</p> + +<p> +And no woman ever owned up as ’ow she was wrong; and the more you try and prove +it to ’em the louder they talk about something else. I know wot I’m talking +about because a woman made a mistake about me once, and though she was proved +to be in the wrong, and it was years ago, my missus shakes her ’ead about it to +this day. +</p> + +<p> +It was about eight years arter I ’ad left off going to sea and took up +night-watching. A beautiful summer evening it was, and I was sitting by the +gate smoking a pipe till it should be time to light up, when I noticed a woman +who ’ad just passed turn back and stand staring at me. I’ve ’ad that sort o’ +thing before, and I went on smoking and looking straight in front of me. Fat +middle-aged woman she was, wot ’ad lost her good looks and found others. She +stood there staring and staring, and by and by she tries a little cough. +</p> + +<p> +I got up very slow then, and, arter looking all round at the evening, without +seeing ’er, I was just going to step inside and shut the wicket, when she came +closer. +</p> + +<p> +“Bill!” she ses, in a choking sort o’ voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Bill!” +</p> + +<p> +I gave her a look that made her catch ’er breath, and I was just stepping +through the wicket, when she laid hold of my coat and tried to hold me back. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know wot you’re a-doing of?” I ses, turning on her. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Bill dear,” she ses, “don’t talk to me like that. Do you want to break my +’art? Arter all these years!” +</p> + +<p> +She pulled out a dirt-coloured pocket-’ankercher and stood there dabbing her +eyes with it. One eye at a time she dabbed, while she looked at me reproachful +with the other. And arter eight dabs, four to each eye, she began to sob as if +her ’art would break. +</p> + +<p> +“Go away,” I ses, very slow. “You can’t stand making that noise outside my +wharf. Go away and give somebody else a treat.” +</p> + +<p> +Afore she could say anything the potman from the Tiger, a nasty ginger-’aired +little chap that nobody liked, come by and stopped to pat her on the back. +</p> + +<p> +“There, there, don’t take on, mother,” he ses. “Wot’s he been a-doing to you?” +</p> + +<p> +“You get off ’ome,” I ses, losing my temper. +</p> + +<p> +“Wot d’ye mean trying to drag me into it? I’ve never seen the woman afore in my +life.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Bill!” ses the woman, sobbing louder than ever. “Oh! Oh! Oh!” +</p> + +<p> +“’Ow does she know your name, then?” ses the little beast of a potman. +</p> + +<p> +I didn’t answer him. I might have told ’im that there’s about five million +Bills in England, but I didn’t. I stood there with my arms folded acrost my +chest, and looked at him, superior. +</p> + +<p> +“Where ’ave you been all this long, long time?” she ses, between her sobs. “Why +did you leave your happy ’ome and your children wot loved you?” +</p> + +<p> +The potman let off a whistle that you could have ’eard acrost the river, and as +for me, I thought I should ha’ dropped. To have a woman standing sobbing and +taking my character away like that was a’most more than I could bear. +</p> + +<p> +“Did he run away from you?” ses the potman. +</p> + +<p> +“Ye-ye-yes,” she ses. “He went off on a vy’ge to China over nine years ago, and +that’s the last I saw of ’im till to-night. A lady friend o’ mine thought she +reckernized ’im yesterday, and told me.” +</p> + +<p> +“I shouldn’t cry over ’im,” ses the potman, shaking his ’ead: “he ain’t worth +it. If I was you I should just give ’im a bang or two over the ’ead with my +umberella, and then give ’im in charge.” +</p> + +<p> +I stepped inside the wicket—backwards—and then I slammed it in their faces, and +putting the key in my pocket, walked up the wharf. I knew it was no good +standing out there argufying. I felt sorry for the pore thing in a way. If she +really thought I was her ’usband, and she ’ad lost me—— I put one or two things +straight and then, for the sake of distracting my mind, I ’ad a word or two +with the skipper of the John Henry, who was leaning against the side of his +ship, smoking. +</p> + +<p> +“Wot’s that tapping noise?” he ses, all of a sudden. “’Ark!” +</p> + +<p> +I knew wot it was. It was the handle of that umberella ’ammering on the gate. I +went cold all over, and then when I thought that the pot-man was most likely +encouraging ’er to do it I began to boil. +</p> + +<p> +“Somebody at the gate,” ses the skipper. +</p> + +<p> +“Aye, aye,” I ses. “I know all about it.” +</p> + +<p> +I went on talking until at last the skipper asked me whether he was wandering +in ’is mind, or whether I was. The mate came up from the cabin just then, and +o’ course he ’ad to tell me there was somebody knocking at the gate. +</p> + +<p> +“Ain’t you going to open it?” ses the skipper, staring at me. +</p> + +<p> +“Let ’em ring,” I ses, off-hand. +</p> + +<p> +The words was ’ardly out of my mouth afore they did ring, and if they ’ad been +selling muffins they couldn’t ha’ kept it up harder. And all the time the +umberella was doing rat-a-tat tats on the gate, while a voice— much too loud +for the potman’s—started calling out: “Watch-man ahoy!” +</p> + +<p> +“They’re calling you, Bill,” ses the skipper. “I ain’t deaf,” I ses, very cold. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I wish I was,” ses the skipper. “It’s fair making my ear ache. Why the +blazes don’t you do your dooty, and open the gate?” +</p> + +<p> +“You mind your bisness and I’ll mind mine,” I ses. “I know wot I’m doing. It’s +just some silly fools ’aving a game with me, and I’m not going to encourage +’em.” +</p> + +<p> +“Game with you?” ses the skipper. “Ain’t they got anything better than that to +play with? Look ’ere, if you don’t open that gate, I will.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s nothing to do with you,” I ses. “You look arter your ship and I’ll look +arter my wharf. See? If you don’t like the noise, go down in the cabin and +stick your ’ead in a biscuit-bag.” +</p> + +<p> +To my surprise he took the mate by the arm and went, and I was just thinking +wot a good thing it was to be a bit firm with people sometimes, when they came +back dressed up in their coats and bowler-hats and climbed on to the wharf. +</p> + +<p> +“Watchman!” ses the skipper, in a hoity-toity sort o’ voice, “me and the mate +is going as far as Aldgate for a breath o’ fresh air. Open the gate.” +</p> + +<p> +I gave him a look that might ha’ melted a ’art of stone, and all it done to ’im +was to make ’im laugh. +</p> + +<p> +“Hurry up,” he ses. “It a’most seems to me that there’s somebody ringing the +bell, and you can let them in same time as you let us out. Is it the bell, or +is it my fancy, Joe?” he ses, turning to the mate. +</p> + +<p> +They marched on in front of me with their noses cocked in the air, and all the +time the noise at the gate got worse and worse. So far as I could make out, +there was quite a crowd outside, and I stood there with the key in the lock, +trembling all over. Then I unlocked it very careful, and put my hand on the +skipper’s arm. +</p> + +<p> +“Nip out quick,” I ses, in a whisper. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m in no hurry,” ses the skipper. “Here! Halloa, wot’s up?” +</p> + +<p> +It was like opening the door at a theatre, and the fust one through was that +woman, shoved behind by the potman. Arter ’im came a car-man, two big ’ulking +brewers’ draymen, a little scrap of a woman with ’er bonnet cocked over one +eye, and a couple of dirty little boys. +</p> + +<p> +“Wot is it?” ses the skipper, shutting the wicket behind ’em. “A beanfeast?” +</p> + +<p> +“This lady wants her ’usband,” ses the pot-man, pointing at me. “He run away +from her nine years ago, and now he says he ’as never seen ’er before. He ought +to be ’ung.” +</p> + +<p> +“Bill,” ses the skipper, shaking his silly ’ead at me. “I can ’ardly believe +it.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s all a pack o’ silly lies,” I ses, firing up. “She’s made a mistake.” +</p> + +<p> +“She made a mistake when she married you,” ses the thin little woman. “If I was +in ’er shoes I’d take ’old of you and tear you limb from limb.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t want to hurt ’im, ma’am,” ses the other woman. “I on’y want him to +come ’ome to me and my five. Why, he’s never seen the youngest, little Annie. +She’s as like ’im as two peas.” +</p> + +<p> +“Pore little devil,” ses the carman. +</p> + +<p> +“Look here!” I ses, “you clear off. All of you. ’Ow dare you come on to my +wharf? If you aren’t gone in two minutes I’ll give you all in charge.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who to?” ses one of the draymen, sticking his face into mine. “You go ’ome to +your wife and kids. Go on now, afore I put up my ’ands to you.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s the way to talk to ’im,” ses the pot-man, nodding at ’em. +</p> + +<p> +They all began to talk to me then and tell me wot I was to do, and wot they +would do if I didn’t. I couldn’t get a word in edgeways. When I reminded the +mate that when he was up in London ’e always passed himself off as a single +man, ’e wouldn’t listen; and when I asked the skipper whether ’is pore missus +was blind, he on’y went on shouting at the top of ’is voice. It on’y showed me +’ow anxious most people are that everybody else should be good. +</p> + +<p> +I thought they was never going to stop, and, if it ’adn’t been for a fit of +coughing, I don’t believe that the scraggy little woman could ha’ stopped. +Arter one o’ the draymen ’ad saved her life and spoilt ’er temper by patting +’er on the back with a hand the size of a leg o’ mutton, the carman turned to +me and told me to tell the truth, if it choked me. +</p> + +<p> +“I have told you the truth,” I ses. “She ses I’m her ’usband and I say I ain’t. +Ow’s she going to prove it? Why should you believe her, and not me?” +</p> + +<p> +“She’s got a truthful face,” ses the carman. +</p> + +<p> +“Look here!” ses the skipper, speaking very slow, “I’ve got an idea, wot’ll +settle it p’raps. You get outside,” he ses, turning sharp on the two little +boys. +</p> + +<p> +One o’ the draymen ’elped ’em to go out, and ’arf a minute arterwards a stone +came over the gate and cut the potman’s lip open. Boys will be boys. +</p> + +<p> +“Now!” ses the skipper, turning to the woman, and smiling with conceitedness. +“Had your ’usband got any marks on ’im? Birth-mark, or moles, or anything of +that sort?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sure he is my ’usband,” ses the woman, dabbing her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes,” ses the skipper, “but answer my question. If you can tell us any +marks your ’usband had, we can take Bill down into my cabin and——” +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll do WOT?” I ses, in a loud voice. +</p> + +<p> +“You speak when you’re spoke to,” ses the carman. “It’s got nothing to do with +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, he ain’t got no birthmarks,” ses the woman, speaking very slow—and I could +see she was afraid of making a mistake and losing me—“but he’s got tattoo +marks. He’s got a mermaid tattooed on ’im.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where?” ses the skipper, a’most jumping. +</p> + +<p> +I ’eld my breath. Five sailormen out of ten have been tattooed with mermaids, +and I was one of ’em. When she spoke agin I thought I should ha’ dropped. +</p> + +<p> +“On ’is right arm,” she ses, “unless he’s ’ad it rubbed off.” +</p> + +<p> +“You can’t rub out tattoo marks,” ses the skipper. +</p> + +<p> +They all stood looking at me as if they was waiting for something. I folded my +arms—tight—and stared back at ’em. +</p> + +<p> +“If you ain’t this lady’s ’usband,” ses the skipper, turning to me, “you can +take off your coat and prove it.” +</p> + +<p> +“And if you don’t we’ll take it off for you,” ses the carman, coming a bit +closer. +</p> + +<p> +Arter that things ’appened so quick, I hardly knew whether I was standing on my +’cad or my heels. Both, I think. They was all on top o’ me at once, and the +next thing I can remember is sitting on the ground in my shirt-sleeves +listening to the potman, who was making a fearful fuss because somebody ’ad bit +his ear ’arf off. My coat was ripped up the back, and one of the draymen was +holding up my arm and showing them all the mermaid, while the other struck +matches so as they could see better. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s your ’usband right enough,” he ses to the woman. “Take ’im.” +</p> + +<p> +“P’raps she’ll carry ’im ’ome,” I ses, very fierce and sarcastic. +</p> + +<p> +“And we don’t want none of your lip,” ses the carman, who was in a bad temper +because he ’ad got a fearful kick on the shin from somewhere. +</p> + +<p> +I got up very slow and began to put my coat on again, and twice I ’ad to tell +that silly woman that when I wanted her ’elp I’d let ’er know. Then I ’eard +slow, heavy footsteps in the road outside, and, afore any of ’em could stop me, +I was calling for the police. +</p> + +<p> +I don’t like policemen as a rule; they’re too inquisitive, but when the wicket +was pushed open and I saw a face with a helmet on it peeping in, I felt quite a +liking for ’em. +</p> + +<p> +“Wot’s up?” ses the policeman, staring ’ard at my little party. +</p> + +<p> +They all started telling ’im at once, and I should think if the potman showed +him ’is ear once he showed it to ’im twenty times. He lost his temper and +pushed it away at last, and the potman gave a ’owl that set my teeth on edge. I +waited till they was all finished, and the policeman trying to get ’is hearing +back, and then I spoke up in a quiet way and told ’im to clear them all off of +my wharf. +</p> + +<p> +“They’re trespassing,” I ses, “all except the skipper and mate here. They +belong to a little wash-tub that’s laying alongside, and they’re both as +’armless as they look.” +</p> + +<p> +It’s wonderful wot a uniform will do. The policeman just jerked his ’ead and +said “out-side,” and the men went out like a flock of sheep. The on’y man that +said a word was the carman, who was in such a hurry that ’e knocked his bad +shin against my foot as ’e went by. The thin little woman was passed out by the +policeman in the middle of a speech she was making, and he was just going for +the other, when the skipper stopped ’im. +</p> + +<p> +“This lady is coming on my ship,” he ses, puffing out ’is chest. +</p> + +<p> +I looked at ’im, and then I turned to the policeman. “So long as she goes off +my wharf, I don’t mind where she goes,” I ses. “The skipper’s goings-on ’ave +got nothing to do with me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then she can foller him ’ome in the morning,” ses the skipper. “Good night, +watch-man.” +</p> + +<p> +Him and the mate ’elped the silly old thing to the ship, and, arter I ’ad been +round to the Bear’s Head and fetched a pint for the police-man, I locked up and +sat down to think things out; and the more I thought the worse they seemed. +I’ve ’eard people say that if you have a clear conscience nothing can hurt you. +They didn’t know my missus. +</p> + +<p> +I got up at last and walked on to the jetty, and the woman, wot was sitting on +the deck of the John Henry, kept calling out: “Bill!” like a sick baa-lamb +crying for its ma. I went back, and ’ad four pints at the Bear’s Head, but it +didn’t seem to do me any good, and at last I went and sat down in the office to +wait for morning. +</p> + +<p> +It came at last, a lovely morning with a beautiful sunrise; and that woman +sitting up wide awake, waiting to foller me ’ome. When I opened the gate at six +o’clock she was there with the mate and the skipper, waiting, and when I left +at five minutes past she was trotting along beside me. +</p> + +<p> +Twice I stopped and spoke to ’er, but it was no good. Other people stopped too, +and I ’ad to move on agin; and every step was bringing me nearer to my house +and the missus. +</p> + +<p> +I turned into our street, arter passing it three times, and the first thing I +saw was my missus standing on the doorstep ’aving a few words with the lady +next door. Then she ’appened to look up and see us, just as that silly woman +was trying to walk arm-in-arm. +</p> + +<p> +Twice I knocked her ’and away, and then, right afore my wife and the party next +door, she put her arm round my waist. By the time I got to the ’ouse my legs +was trembling so I could hardly stand, and when I got into the passage I ’ad to +lean up against the wall for a bit. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="illus03"></a> +<img src="images/003.jpg" width="474" height="650" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">Right afore my wife and the party next door, she put her arm +round my waist.</p> +</div> + +<p> +“Keep ’er out,” I ses. +</p> + +<p> +“Wot do you want?” ses my missus, trembling with passion. “Wot do you think +you’re doing?” +</p> + +<p> +“I want my ’usband, Bill,” ses the woman. +</p> + +<p> +My missus put her ’and to her throat and came in without a word, and the woman +follered ’er. If I hadn’t kept my presence o’ mind and shut the door two or +three more would ’ave come in too. +</p> + +<p> +I went into the kitchen about ten minutes arterwards to see ’ow they was +getting on. Besides which they was both calling for me. +</p> + +<p> +“Now then!” ses my missus, who was leaning up against the dresser with ’er arms +folded, “wot ’ave you got to say for yourself walking in as bold as brass with +this hussy?” +</p> + +<p> +“Bill!” ses the woman, “did you hear wot she called me?” +</p> + +<p> +She spoke to me like that afore my wife, and in two minutes they was at it, +hammer and tongs. +</p> + +<p> +Fust of all they spoke about each other, and then my missus started speaking +about me. She’s got a better memory than most people, because she can remember +things that never ’appened, and every time I coughed she turned on me like a +tiger. +</p> + +<p> +“And as for you,” she ses, turning to the woman, “if you did marry ’im you +should ha’ made sure that he ’adn’t got a wife already.” +</p> + +<p> +“He married me fust,” ses the woman. +</p> + +<p> +“When?” ses my wife. “Wot was the date?” +</p> + +<p> +“Wot was the date you married ’im?” ses the other one. +</p> + +<p> +They stood looking at each other like a couple o’ game-cocks, and I could see +as plain as a pike-staff ’ow frightened both of ’em was o’ losing me. +</p> + +<p> +“Look here!” I ses at last, to my missus, “talk sense. ’Ow could I be married +to ’er? When I was at sea I was at sea, and when I was ashore I was with you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did you use to go down to the ship to see ’im off?” ses the woman. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” ses my wife. “I’d something better to do.” +</p> + +<p> +“Neither did I,” ses the woman. “P’raps that’s where we both made a mistake.” +</p> + +<p> +“You get out of my ’ouse!” ses my missus, very sudden. “Go on, afore I put you +out.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not without my Bill,” ses the woman. “If you lay a finger on me I’ll scream +the house down.” +</p> + +<p> +“You brought her ’ere,” ses my wife, turning to me, “now you can take ’er +away?” +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t bring ’er,” I ses. “She follered me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, she can foller you agin,” she ses. “Go on!” she ses, trembling all over. +“Git out afore I start on you.” +</p> + +<p> +I was in such a temper that I daren’t trust myself to stop. I just gave ’er one +look, and then I drew myself up and went out. ’Alf the fools in our street was +standing in front of the ’ouse, ’umming like bees, but I took no notice. I held +my ’ead up and walked through them with that woman trailing arter me. +</p> + +<p> +I was in such a state of mind that I went on like a man in a dream. If it had +ha’ been a dream I should ha’ pushed ’er under an omnibus, but you can’t do +things like that in real life. +</p> + +<p> +“Penny for your thoughts, Bill,” she ses. I didn’t answer her. +</p> + +<p> +“Why don’t you speak to me?” she ses. +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t know wot you’re asking for,” I ses. +</p> + +<p> +I was hungry and sleepy, and ’ow I was going to get through the day I couldn’t +think. I went into a pub and ’ad a couple o’ pints o’ stout and a crust o’ +bread and cheese for brekfuss. I don’t know wot she ’ad, but when the barman +tried to take for it out o’ my money, I surprised ’im. +</p> + +<p> +We walked about till I was ready to drop. Then we got to Victoria Park, and I +’ad no sooner got on to the grass than I laid down and went straight off to +sleep. It was two o’clock when I woke, and, arter a couple o’ pork-pies and a +pint or two, I sat on a seat in the Park smoking, while she kep’ dabbing ’er +eyes agin and asking me to come ’ome. +</p> + +<p> +At five o’clock I got up to go back to the wharf, and, taking no notice of ’er, +I walked into the street and jumped on a ’bus that was passing. She jumped too, +and, arter the conductor had ’elped ’er up off of ’er knees and taken her arms +away from his waist, I’m blest if he didn’t turn on me and ask me why I ’adn’t +left her at ’ome. +</p> + +<p> +We got to the wharf just afore six. The John Henry ’ad gorn, but the skipper +’ad done all the ’arm he could afore he sailed, and, if I ’adn’t kept my +temper, I should ha’ murdered arf a dozen of ’em. +</p> + +<p> +The woman wanted to come on to the wharf, but I ’ad a word or two with one o’ +the fore-men, who owed me arf-a-dollar, and he made that all right. +</p> + +<p> +“We all ’ave our faults, Bill,” he ses as ’e went out, “and I suppose she was +better looking once upon a time?” +</p> + +<p> +I didn’t answer ’im. I shut the wicket arter ’im, quick, and turned the key, +and then I went on with my work. For a long time everything was as quiet as the +grave, and then there came just one little pull at the bell. Five minutes +arterwards there was another. +</p> + +<p> +I thought it was that woman, but I ’ad to make sure. When it came the third +time I crept up to the gate. +</p> + +<p> +“Halloa!” I ses. “Who is it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Me, darling,” ses a voice I reckernized as the potman’s. “Your missus wants to +come in and sit down.” +</p> + +<p> +I could ’ear several people talking, and it seemed to me there was quite a +crowd out there, and by and by that bell was going like mad. Then people +started kicking the gate, and shouting, but I took no notice until, presently, +it left off all of a sudden, and I ’eard a loud voice asking what it was all +about. I suppose there was about fifty of ’em all telling it at once, and then +there was the sound of a fist on the gate. +</p> + +<p> +“Who is it?” I ses. +</p> + +<p> +“Police,” ses the voice. +</p> + +<p> +I opened the wicket then and looked out. A couple o’ policemen was standing by +the gate and arf the riff-raff of Wapping behind ’em. +</p> + +<p> +“Wot’s all this about?” ses one o’ the policemen. +</p> + +<p> +I shook my ’ead. “Ask me another,” I ses. “Your missus is causing a +disturbance,” he ses. +</p> + +<p> +“She’s not my missus,” I ses; “she’s a complete stranger to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“And causing a crowd to collect and refusing to go away,” ses the other +policeman. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s your business,” I ses. “It’s nothing to do with me.” +</p> + +<p> +They talked to each other for a moment, and then they spoke to the woman. I +didn’t ’ear wot she said, but I saw her shake her ’ead, and a’most direckly +arterwards she was marching away between the two policemen with the crowd +follering and advising ’er where to kick ’em. +</p> + +<p> +I was a bit worried at fust—not about her—and then I began to think that p’raps +it was the best thing that could have ’appened. +</p> + +<p> +I went ’ome in the morning with a load lifted off my mind; but I ’adn’t been in +the ’ouse two seconds afore my missus started to put it on agin. Fust of all +she asked me ’ow I dared to come into the ’ouse, and then she wanted to know +wot I meant by leaving her at ’ome and going out for the day with another +woman. +</p> + +<p> +“You told me to,” I ses. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes,” she ses, trembling with temper. “You always do wot I tell you, don’t +you? Al-ways ’ave, especially when it’s anything you like.” +</p> + +<p> +She fetched a bucket o’ water and scrubbed the kitchen while I was having my +brekfuss, but I kept my eye on ’er, and, the moment she ’ad finished, I did the +perlite and emptied the bucket for ’er, to prevent mistakes. +</p> + +<p> +I read about the case in the Sunday paper, and I’m thankful to say my name +wasn’t in it. All the magistrate done was to make ’er promise that she wouldn’t +do it again, and then he let ’er go. I should ha’ felt more comfortable if he +’ad given ’er five years, but, as it turned out, it didn’t matter. Her ’usband +happened to read it, and, whether ’e was tired of living alone, or whether he +was excited by ’caring that she ’ad got a little general shop, ’e went back to +her. +</p> + +<p> +The fust I knew about it was they came round to the wharf to see me. He ’ad +been a fine-looking chap in ’is day, and even then ’e was enough like me for me +to see ’ow she ’ad made the mistake; and all the time she was telling me ’ow it +’appened, he was looking me up and down and sniffing. +</p> + +<p> +“’Ave you got a cold?” I ses, at last. +</p> + +<p> +“Wot’s that got to do with you?” he ses. “Wot do you mean by walking out with +my wife? That’s what I’ve come to talk about.” +</p> + +<p> +For a moment I thought that his bad luck ’ad turned ’is brain. “You’ve got it +wrong,” I ses, as soon as I could speak. “She walked out with me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Cos she thought you was her ’usband,” he ses, “but you didn’t think you was +me, did you?” +</p> + +<p> +“’Course I didn’t,” I ses. +</p> + +<p> +“Then ’ow dare you walk out with ’er?” he ses. +</p> + +<p> +“Look ’ere!” I ses. “You get off ’ome as quick as you like. I’ve ’ad about +enough of your family. Go on, hook it.” +</p> + +<p> +Afore I could put my ’ands up he ’it me hard in the mouth, and the next moment +we was at it as ’ard as we could go. Nearly every time I hit ’im he wasn’t +there, and every time ’e hit me I wished I hadn’t ha’ been. When I said I had +’ad enough, ’e contradicted me and kept on, but he got tired of it at last, +and, arter telling me wot he would do if I ever walked ’is wife out agin, they +went off like a couple o’ love-birds. +</p> + +<p> +By the time I got ’ome next morning my eyes was so swelled up I could ’ardly +see, and my nose wouldn’t let me touch it. I was so done up I could ’ardly +speak, but I managed to tell my missus about it arter I had ’ad a cup o’ tea. +Judging by her face anybody might ha’ thought I was telling ’er something +funny, and, when I ’ad finished, she looks up at the ceiling and ses: +</p> + +<p> +“I ’ope it’ll be a lesson to you,” she ses. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap08"></a>FAMILY CARES</h2> + +<p> +Mr. Jernshaw, who was taking the opportunity of a lull in business to weigh out +pound packets of sugar, knocked his hands together and stood waiting for the +order of the tall bronzed man who had just entered the shop—a well-built man of +about forty—who was regarding him with blue eyes set in quizzical wrinkles. +</p> + +<p> +“What, Harry!” exclaimed Mr. Jernshaw, in response to the wrinkles. “Harry +Barrett!” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s me,” said the other, extending his hand. “The rolling stone come home +covered with moss.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Jernshaw, somewhat excited, shook hands, and led the way into the little +parlour behind the shop. +</p> + +<p> +“Fifteen years,” said Mr. Barrett, sinking into a chair, “and the old place +hasn’t altered a bit.” +</p> + +<p> +“Smithson told me he had let that house in Webb Street to a Barrett,” said the +grocer, regarding him, “but I never thought of you. I suppose you’ve done well, +then?” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Barrett nodded. “Can’t grumble,” he said modestly. “I’ve got enough to live +on. Melbourne’s all right, but I thought I’d come home for the evening of my +life.” +</p> + +<p> +“Evening!” repeated his friend. “Forty-three,” said Mr. Barrett, gravely. “I’m +getting on.” +</p> + +<p> +“You haven’t changed much,” said the grocer, passing his hand through his spare +grey whiskers. “Wait till you have a wife and seven youngsters. Why, boots +alone——” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Barrett uttered a groan intended for sympathy. “Perhaps you could help me +with the furnishing,” he said, slowly. “I’ve never had a place of my own +before, and I don’t know much about it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Anything I can do,” said his friend. “Better not get much yet; you might +marry, and my taste mightn’t be hers.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Barrett laughed. “I’m not marrying,” he said, with conviction. +</p> + +<p> +“Seen anything of Miss Prentice yet?” inquired Mr. Jernshaw. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said the other, with a slight flush. “Why?” +</p> + +<p> +“She’s still single,” said the grocer. +</p> + +<p> +“What of it?” demanded Mr. Barrett, with warmth. “What of it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing,” said Mr. Jernshaw, slowly. “Nothing; only I——” +</p> + +<p> +“Well?” said the other, as he paused. +</p> + +<p> +“I—there was an idea that you went to Australia to—to better your condition,” +murmured the grocer. “That—that you were not in a position to marry—that——” +</p> + +<p> +“Boy and girl nonsense,” said Mr. Barrett, sharply. “Why, it’s fifteen years +ago. I don’t suppose I should know her if I saw her. Is her mother alive?” +</p> + +<p> +“Rather!” said Mr. Jernshaw, with emphasis. “Louisa is something like what her +mother was when you went away.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Barrett shivered. +</p> + +<p> +“But you’ll see for yourself,” continued the other. “You’ll have to go and see +them. They’ll wonder you haven’t been before.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let ’em wonder,” said the embarrassed Mr. Barrett. “I shall go and see all my +old friends in their turn; casual-like. You might let ’em hear that I’ve been +to see you before seeing them, and then, if they’re thinking any nonsense, +it’ll be a hint. I’m stopping in town while the house is being decorated; next +time I come down I’ll call and see somebody else.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’ll be another hint,” assented Mr. Jernshaw. “Not that hints are much good +to Mrs. Prentice.” +</p> + +<p> +“We’ll see,” said Mr. Barrett. +</p> + +<p> +In accordance with his plan his return to his native town was heralded by a few +short visits at respectable intervals. A sort of human butterfly, he streaked +rapidly across one or two streets, alighted for half an hour to resume an old +friendship, and then disappeared again. Having given at least half-a-dozen +hints of this kind, he made a final return to Ramsbury and entered into +occupation of his new house. +</p> + +<p> +“It does you credit, Jernshaw,” he said, gratefully. “I should have made a rare +mess of it without your help.” +</p> + +<p> +“It looks very nice,” admitted his friend. “Too nice.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s all nonsense,” said the owner, irritably. +</p> + +<p> +“All right,” said Mr. Jernshaw. “I don’t know the sex, then, that’s all. If you +think that you’re going to keep a nice house like this all to yourself, you’re +mistaken. It’s a home; and where there’s a home a woman comes in, somehow.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Barrett grunted his disbelief. +</p> + +<p> +“I give you four days,” said Mr. Jernshaw. +</p> + +<p> +As a matter of fact, Mrs. Prentice and her daughter came on the fifth. Mr. +Barrett, who was in an easy-chair, wooing slumber with a handkerchief over his +head, heard their voices at the front door and the cordial invitation of his +housekeeper. They entered the room as he sat hastily smoothing his rumpled +hair. +</p> + +<p> +“Good afternoon,” he said, shaking hands. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Prentice returned the greeting in a level voice, and, accepting a chair, +gazed around the room. +</p> + +<p> +“Nice weather,” said Mr. Barrett. +</p> + +<p> +“Very,” said Mrs. Prentice. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s—it’s quite a pleasure to see you again,” said Mr. Barrett. +</p> + +<p> +“We thought we should have seen you before,” said Mrs. Prentice, “but I told +Louisa that no doubt you were busy, and wanted to surprise her. I like the +carpet; don’t you, Louisa?” +</p> + +<p> +Miss Prentice said she did. +</p> + +<p> +“The room is nice and airy,” said Mrs. Prentice, “but it’s a pity you didn’t +come to me before deciding. I could have told you of a better house for the +same money.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m very well satisfied with this,” said Mr. Barrett. “It’s all I want.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s well enough,” conceded Mrs. Prentice, amiably. “And how have you been all +these years?” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Barrett, with some haste, replied that his health and spirits had been +excellent. +</p> + +<p> +“You look well,” said Mrs. Prentice. “Neither of you seem to have changed +much,” she added, looking from him to her daughter. “And I think you did quite +well not to write. I think it was much the best.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Barrett sought for a question: a natural, artless question, that would +neutralize the hideous suggestion conveyed by this remark, but it eluded him. +He sat and gazed in growing fear at Mrs. Prentice. +</p> + +<p> +“I—I couldn’t write,” he said at last, in desperation; “my wife——” +</p> + +<p> +“Your what?” exclaimed Mrs. Prentice, loudly. +</p> + +<p> +“Wife,” said Mr. Barrett, suddenly calm now that he had taken the plunge. “She +wouldn’t have liked it.” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Prentice tried to control her voice. “I never heard you were married!” she +gasped. “Why isn’t she here?” +</p> + +<p> +“We couldn’t agree,” said the veracious Mr. Barrett. “She was very difficult; +so I left the children with her and——” +</p> + +<p> +“Chil——” said Mrs. Prentice, and paused, unable to complete the word. +</p> + +<p> +“Five,” said Mr. Barrett, in tones of resignation. “It was rather a wrench, +parting with them, especially the baby. He got his first tooth the day I left.” +</p> + +<p> +The information fell on deaf ears. Mrs. Prentice, for once in her life +thoroughly at a loss, sat trying to collect her scattered faculties. She had +come out prepared for a hard job, but not an impossible one. All things +considered, she took her defeat with admirable composure. +</p> + +<p> +“I have no doubt it is much the best thing for the children to remain with +their mother,” she said, rising. +</p> + +<p> +“Much the best,” agreed Mr. Barrett. “Whatever she is like,” continued the old +lady. “Are you ready, Louisa?” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Barrett followed them to the door, and then, returning to the room, +watched, with glad eyes, their progress up the street. +</p> + +<p> +“Wonder whether she’ll keep it to herself?” he muttered. +</p> + +<p> +His doubts were set at rest next day. All Ramsbury knew by then of his +matrimonial complications, and seemed anxious to talk about them; complications +which tended to increase until Mr. Barrett wrote out a list of his children’s +names and ages and learnt it off by heart. +</p> + +<p> +Relieved of the attentions of the Prentice family, he walked the streets a free +man; and it was counted to him for righteousness that he never said a hard word +about his wife. She had her faults, he said, but they were many thousand miles +away, and he preferred to forget them. And he added, with some truth, that he +owed her a good deal. +</p> + +<p> +For a few months he had no reason to alter his opinion. Thanks to his presence +of mind, the Prentice family had no terrors for him. Heart-whole and fancy +free, he led the easy life of a man of leisure, a condition of things suddenly +upset by the arrival of Miss Grace Lindsay to take up a post at the elementary +school. Mr. Barrett succumbed almost at once, and, after a few encounters in +the street and meetings at mutual friends’, went to unbosom him-self to Mr. +Jernshaw. +</p> + +<p> +“What has she got to do with you?” demanded that gentleman. +</p> + +<p> +“I—I’m rather struck with her,” said Mr. Barrett. +</p> + +<p> +“Struck with her?” repeated his friend, sharply. “I’m surprised at you. You’ve +no business to think of such things.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why not?” demanded Mr. Barrett, in tones that were sharper still. +</p> + +<p> +“Why not?” repeated the other. “Have you forgotten your wife and children?” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Barrett, who, to do him justice, had forgotten, fell back in his chair and +sat gazing at him, open-mouthed. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re in a false position—in a way,” said Mr. Jernshaw, sternly. +</p> + +<p> +“False is no name for it,” said Mr. Barrett, huskily. “What am I to do?” +</p> + +<p> +“Do?” repeated the other, staring at him. “Nothing! Unless, perhaps, you send +for your wife and children. I suppose, in any case, you would have to have the +little ones if anything happened to her?” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Barrett grinned ruefully. +</p> + +<p> +“Think it over,” said Mr. Jernshaw. “I will,” said the other, heartily. +</p> + +<p> +He walked home deep in thought. He was a kindly man, and he spent some time +thinking out the easiest death for Mrs. Barrett. He decided at last upon +heart-disease, and a fort-night later all Ramsbury knew of the letter from +Australia conveying the mournful intelligence. It was generally agreed that the +mourning and the general behaviour of the widower left nothing to be desired. +</p> + +<p> +“She’s at peace at last,” he said, solemnly, to Jernshaw. +</p> + +<p> +“I believe you killed her,” said his friend. Mr. Barrett started violently. +</p> + +<p> +“I mean your leaving broke her heart,” explained the other. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Barrett breathed easily again. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s your duty to look after the children,” said Jernshaw, firmly. “And I’m +not the only one that thinks so.” +</p> + +<p> +“They are with their grandfather and grand-mother,” said Mr. Barrett. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Jernshaw sniffed. +</p> + +<p> +“And four uncles and five aunts,” added Mr. Barrett, triumphantly. +</p> + +<p> +“Think how they would brighten up your house,” said Mr. Jernshaw. +</p> + +<p> +His friend shook his head. “It wouldn’t be fair to their grandmother,” he said, +decidedly. “Besides, Australia wants population.” +</p> + +<p> +He found to his annoyance that Mr. Jernshaw’s statement that he was not alone +in his views was correct. Public opinion seemed to expect the arrival of the +children, and one citizen even went so far as to recommend a girl he knew, as +nurse. +</p> + +<p> +Ramsbury understood at last that his decision was final, and, observing his +attentions to the new schoolmistress, flattered itself that it had discovered +the reason. It is possible that Miss Lindsay shared their views, but if so she +made no sign, and on the many occasions on which she met Mr. Barrett on her way +to and from school greeted him with frank cordiality. Even when he referred to +his loneliness, which he did frequently, she made no comment. +</p> + +<p> +He went into half-mourning at the end of two months, and a month later bore no +outward signs of his loss. Added to that his step was springy and his manner +youthful. Miss Lindsay was twenty-eight, and he persuaded himself that, sexes +considered, there was no disparity worth mentioning. +</p> + +<p> +He was only restrained from proposing by a question of etiquette. Even a +shilling book on the science failed to state the interval that should elapse +between the death of one wife and the negotiations for another. It preferred +instead to give minute instructions with regard to the eating of asparagus. In +this dilemma he consulted Jernshaw. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t know, I’m sure,” said that gentle-man; “besides, it doesn’t matter.” +</p> + +<p> +“Doesn’t matter?” repeated Mr. Barrett. “Why not?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because I think Tillett is paying her attentions,” was the reply. “He’s ten +years younger than you are, and a bachelor. A girl would naturally prefer him +to a middle-aged widower with five children.” +</p> + +<p> +“In Australia,” the other reminded him. +</p> + +<p> +“Man for man, bachelor for bachelor,” said Mr. Jernshaw, regarding him, “she +might prefer you; as things are—” +</p> + +<p> +“I shall ask her,” said Mr. Barrett, doggedly. “I was going to wait a bit +longer, but if there’s any chance of her wrecking her prospects for life by +marrying that tailor’s dummy it’s my duty to risk it—for her sake. I’ve seen +him talking to her twice myself, but I never thought he’d dream of such a +thing.” +</p> + +<p> +Apprehension and indignation kept him awake half the night, but when he arose +next morning it was with the firm resolve to put his fortune to the test that +day. At four o’clock he changed his neck-tie for the third time, and at ten +past sallied out in the direction of the school. He met Miss Lindsay just +coming out, and, after a well-deserved compliment to the weather, turned and +walked with her. +</p> + +<p> +“I was hoping to meet you,” he said, slowly. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes?” said the girl. +</p> + +<p> +“I—I have been feeling rather lonely to-day,” he continued. +</p> + +<p> +“You often do,” said Miss Lindsay, guardedly. +</p> + +<p> +“It gets worse and worse,” said Mr. Barrett, sadly. +</p> + +<p> +“I think I know what is the matter with you,” said the girl, in a soft voice; +“you have got nothing to do all day, and you live alone, except for your +housekeeper.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Barrett assented with some eagerness, and stole a hopeful glance at her. +</p> + +<p> +“You—you miss something,” continued Miss. Lindsay, in a faltering voice. +</p> + +<p> +“I do,” said Mr. Barrett, with ardour. +</p> + +<p> +“You miss”—the girl made an effort—“you miss the footsteps and voices of your +little children.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Barrett stopped suddenly in the street, and then, with a jerk, went blindly +on. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve never spoken of it before because it’s your business, not mine,” +continued the girl. “I wouldn’t have spoken now, but when you referred to your +loneliness I thought perhaps you didn’t realize the cause of it.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Barrett walked on in silent misery. +</p> + +<p> +“Poor little motherless things!” said Miss Lindsay, softly. “Motherless +and—fatherless.” +</p> + +<p> +“Better for them,” said Mr. Barrett, finding his voice at last. +</p> + +<p> +“It almost looks like it,” said Miss Lindsay, with a sigh. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Barrett tried to think clearly, but the circumstances were hardly +favourable. “Suppose,” he said, speaking very slowly, “suppose I wanted to get +married?” +</p> + +<p> +Miss Lindsay started. “What, again?” she said, with an air of surprise. +</p> + +<p> +“How could I ask a girl to come and take over five children?” +</p> + +<p> +“No woman that was worth having would let little children be sacrificed for her +sake,” said Miss Lindsay, decidedly. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you think anybody would marry me with five children?” demanded Mr. Barrett. +</p> + +<p> +“She might,” said the girl, edging away from him a little. “It depends on the +woman.” +</p> + +<p> +“Would—you, for instance?” said Mr. Barrett, desperately. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Lindsay shrank still farther away. “I don’t know; it would depend upon +circumstances,” she murmured. +</p> + +<p> +“I will write and send for them,” said Mr. Barrett, significantly. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Lindsay made no reply. They had arrived at her gate by this time, and, +with a hurried handshake, she disappeared indoors. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Barrett, somewhat troubled in mind, went home to tea. +</p> + +<p> +He resolved, after a little natural hesitation, to drown the children, and +reproached himself bitterly for not having disposed of them at the same time as +their mother. Now he would have to go through another period of mourning and +the consequent delay in pressing his suit. Moreover, he would have to allow a +decent interval between his conversation with Miss Lindsay and their untimely +end. +</p> + +<p> +The news of the catastrophe arrived two or three days before the return of the +girl from her summer holidays. She learnt it in the first half-hour from her +landlady, and sat in a dazed condition listening to a description of the +grief-stricken father and the sympathy extended to him by his fellow-citizens. +It appeared that nothing had passed his lips for two days. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="illus04"></a> +<img src="images/004.jpg" width="482" height="555" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">She learnt the news in the first half-hour from her +landlady.</p> +</div> + +<p> +“Shocking!” said Miss Lindsay, briefly. “Shocking!” +</p> + +<p> +An instinctive feeling that the right and proper thing to do was to nurse his +grief in solitude kept Mr. Barrett out of her way for nearly a week. When she +did meet him she received a limp handshake and a greeting in a voice from which +all hope seemed to have departed. +</p> + +<p> +“I am very sorry,” she said, with a sort of measured gentleness. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Barrett, in his hushed voice, thanked her. +</p> + +<p> +“I am all alone now,” he said, pathetically. “There is nobody now to care +whether I live or die.” +</p> + +<p> +Miss Lindsay did not contradict him. +</p> + +<p> +“How did it happen?” she inquired, after they had gone some distance in +silence. +</p> + +<p> +“They were out in a sailing-boat,” said Mr. Barrett; “the boat capsized in a +puff of wind, and they were all drowned.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who was in charge of them?” inquired the girl, after a decent interval. +</p> + +<p> +“Boatman,” replied the other. +</p> + +<p> +“How did you hear?” +</p> + +<p> +“I had a letter from one of my sisters-in-law, Charlotte,” said Mr. Barrett. “A +most affecting letter. Poor Charlotte was like a second mother to them. She’ll +never be the same woman again. Never!” +</p> + +<p> +“I should like to see the letter,” said Miss Lindsay, musingly. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Barrett suppressed a start. “I should like to show it to you,” he said, +“but I’m afraid I have destroyed it. It made me shudder every time I looked at +it.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s a pity,” said the girl, dryly. “I should have liked to see it. I’ve got +my own idea about the matter. Are you sure she was very fond of them?” +</p> + +<p> +“She lived only for them,” said Mr. Barrett, in a rapt voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Exactly. I don’t believe they are drowned at all,” said Miss Lindsay, +suddenly. “I believe you have had all this terrible anguish for nothing. It’s +too cruel.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Barrett stared at her in anxious amazement. +</p> + +<p> +“I see it all now,” continued the girl. “Their Aunt Charlotte was devoted to +them. She always had the fear that some day you would return and claim them, +and to prevent that she invented the story of their death.” +</p> + +<p> +“Charlotte is the most truthful woman that ever breathed,” said the distressed +Mr. Barrett. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Lindsay shook her head. “You are like all other honourable, truthful +people,” she said, looking at him gravely. “You can’t imagine anybody else +telling a falsehood. I don’t believe you could tell one if you tried.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Barrett gazed about him with the despairing look of a drowning mariner. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m certain I’m right,” continued the girl. “I can see Charlotte exulting in +her wickedness. Why!” +</p> + +<p> +“What’s the matter?” inquired Mr. Barrett, greatly worried. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve just thought of it,” said Miss Lindsay. “She’s told you that your +children are drowned, and she has probably told them you are dead. A woman like +that would stick at nothing to gain her ends.” +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t know Charlotte,” said Mr. Barrett, feebly. +</p> + +<p> +“I think I do,” was the reply. “However, we’ll make sure. I suppose you’ve got +friends in Melbourne?” +</p> + +<p> +“A few,” said Mr. Barrett, guardedly. +</p> + +<p> +“Come down to the post-office and cable to one of them.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Barrett hesitated. “I’ll write,” he said, slowly. “It’s an awkward thing to +cable; and there’s no hurry. I’ll write to Jack Adams, I think.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s no good writing,” said Miss Lindsay, firmly. “You ought to know that.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why not?” demanded the other. +</p> + +<p> +“Because, you foolish man,” said the girl, calmly, “before your letter got +there, there would be one from Melbourne saying that he had been choked by a +fish-bone, or died of measles, or something of that sort.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Barrett, hardly able to believe his ears, stopped short and looked at her. +The girl’s eyes were moist with mirth and her lips trembling. He put out his +hand and took her wrist in a strong grip. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s all right,” he said, with a great gasp of relief. “Phew! At one time I +thought I had lost you.” +</p> + +<p> +“By heart-disease, or drowning?” inquired Miss Lindsay, softly. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap09"></a>THE WINTER OFFENSIVE</h2> + +<p> +N.B.—Having regard to the eccentricities of the Law of Libel it must be +distinctly understood that the following does not refer to the distinguished +officer, Lieut. Troup Horne, of the Inns of Court. Anybody trying to cause +mischief between a civilian of eight stone and a soldier of seventeen by a +statement to the contrary will hear from my solicitors. +</p> + +<p> +Aug. 29, 1916.—We returned from the sea to find our house still our own, and +the military still in undisputed possession of the remains of the grass in the +fields of Berkhamsted Place. As in previous years, it was impossible to go in +search of wild-flowers without stumbling over sleeping members of the Inns of +Court; but war is war, and we grumble as little as possible. +</p> + +<p> +Sept. 28.—Unpleasant rumours to the effect that several members of the Inns of +Court had attributed cases of curvature of the spine to sleeping on ground that +had been insufficiently rolled. Also that they had been heard to smack their +lips and speak darkly of featherbeds. Respected neighbour of gloomy disposition +said that if Pharaoh were still alive he could suggest an eleventh plague to +him beside which frogs and flies were an afternoon’s diversion. +</p> + +<p> +Oct. 3.—Householders of Berkhamsted busy mending bedsteads broken by last +year’s billets, and buying patent taps for their beer-barrels. +</p> + +<p> +Oct. 15.—Informed that a representative of the Army wished to see me. Instead +of my old friend Q.M.S. Beddem, who generally returns to life at this time of +year, found that it was an officer of magnificent presence and two pips. A fine +figure of a man, with a great resemblance to the late lamented Bismarck, minus +the moustache and the three hairs on the top of the head. Asked him to be +seated. He selected a chair that was all arms and legs and no hips to speak of +and crushed himself into it. After which he unfastened his belt and “swelled +wisibly afore my werry eyes.” Said that his name was True Born and asked if it +made any difference to me whether I had one officer or half-a-dozen men +billeted on me. Said that he was the officer, and that as the rank-and-file +were not allowed to pollute the same atmosphere, thought I should score. After +a mental review of all I could remember of the Weights and Measures Table, +accepted him. He bade a lingering farewell to the chair, and departed. +</p> + +<p> +Oct. 16.—Saw Q.M.S. Beddem on the other side of the road and gave him an +absolutely new thrill by crossing to meet him. Asked diffidently—as diffidently +as he could, that is—how many men my house would hold. Replied eight—or ten at +a pinch. He gave me a surprised and beaming smile and whipped out a huge +note-book. Informed him with as much regret as I could put into a voice not +always under perfect control, that I had already got an officer. Q.M.S., +favouring me with a look very appropriate to the Devil’s Own, turned on his +heel and set off in pursuit of a lady-billetee, pulling up short on the +threshold of the baby-linen shop in which she took refuge. Left him on guard +with a Casablanca-like look on his face. +</p> + +<p> +Nov. 1.—Lieut. True Born took up his quarters with us. Gave him my +dressing-room for bedchamber. Was awakened several times in the night by what I +took to be Zeppelins, flying low. +</p> + +<p> +Nov. 2.—Lieut. True Born offered to bet me five pounds to twenty that the war +would be over by 1922. +</p> + +<p> +Nov. 3.—Offered to teach me auction-bridge. +</p> + +<p> +Nov. 4.—Asked me whether I could play “shove ha’penny.” +</p> + +<p> +Nov. 10.—Lieut. True Born gave one of the regimental horses a riding-lesson. +Came home grumpy and went to bed early. +</p> + +<p> +Nov. 13.—Another riding-lesson. Over-heard him asking one of the maids whether +there was such a thing as a water-bed in the house. +</p> + +<p> +Nov. 17.—Complained bitterly of horse-copers. Said that his poor mount was +discovered to be suffering from saddle-soreness, broken wind, splints, weak +hocks, and two bones of the neck out of place. +</p> + +<p> +Dec. 9.—7 p.m.—One of last year’s billets, Private Merited, on leave from a +gunnery course, called to see me and to find out whether his old bed had +improved since last year. Left his motor-bike in the garage, and the smell in +front of the dining-room window. +</p> + +<p> +8 to 12 p.m.—Sat with Private Merited, listening to Lieut. True Born on the +mistakes of Wellington. +</p> + +<p> +12.5 a.m.—Rose to go to bed. Was about to turn out gas in hall when I +discovered the lieutenant standing with his face to the wall playing pat-a-cake +with it. Gave him three-parts of a tumbler of brandy. Said he felt better and +went upstairs. Arrived in his bed-room, he looked about him carefully, and +then, with a superb sweep of his left arm, swept the best Chippendale +looking-glass in the family off the dressing table and dived face down-wards to +the floor, missing death and the corner of the chest of drawers by an inch. +</p> + +<p> +12:15 a.m.—Rolled him on to his back and got his feet on the bed. They fell off +again as soon as they were cleaner than the quilt. The lieutenant, startled by +the crash, opened his eyes and climbed into bed unaided. +</p> + +<p> +12.20 a.m.—Sent Private Merited for the M.O., Captain Geranium. +</p> + +<p> +12.25 a.m.—Mixed a dose of brandy and castor-oil in a tumbler. Am told it slips +down like an oyster that way—bad oyster, I should think. Lieut. True Born +jibbed. Reminded him that England expects that every man will take his +castor-oil. Reply unprintable. Apologized a moment later. Said that his mind +was wandering and that he thought he was a colonel. Reassured him. +</p> + +<p> +12.40 a.m.—Private Merited returned with the M.O. Latter nicely dressed in +musical-comedy pyjamas of ravishing hue, and great-coat, with rose-tinted feet +thrust into red morocco slippers. Held consultation and explained my treatment. +M.O. much impressed, anxious to know whether I was a doctor. Told him “No,” but +that I knew all the ropes. First give patient castor-oil, then diet him and +call every day to make sure that he doesn’t like his food. After that, if he +shows signs of getting well too soon, give him a tonic. . . . M.O. stuffy. +</p> + +<p> +Dec. 10.—M.O. diagnosed attack as due to something which True Born believes to +be tobacco, with which he disinfects the house, the mess-sheds, and the streets +of Berkhamsted. +</p> + +<p> +Dec. 11.—True Born, shorn of thirteen pipes a day out of sixteen, disparages +the whole race of M.O.’s. +</p> + +<p> +Dec. 14.—He obtains leave to attend wedding of a great-aunt and ransacks London +for a specialist who advocates strong tobacco. +</p> + +<p> +Dec. 15.—He classes specialists with M.O.’s. Is surprised (and apparently +disappointed) that, so far, the breaking of the looking-glass has brought me no +ill-luck. Feel somewhat uneasy myself until glass is repaired by local +cabinet-maker. +</p> + +<p> +Jan. 10, 1917.—Lieut. True Born starts to break in another horse. +</p> + +<p> +Feb. 1.—Horse broken. +</p> + +<p> +March 3.—Running short of tobacco, go to my billet’s room and try a pipe of +his. Take all the remedies except the castor-oil. +</p> + +<p> +April 4, 8.30 a.m.—Awakened by an infernal crash and discover that my poor +looking-glass is in pieces again on the floor. True Born explains that its +position, between the open door and the open window, was too much for it. Don’t +believe a word of it. Shall believe to my dying day that it burst in a frantic +but hopeless attempt to tell Lieut. True Born the truth, the whole truth, and +nothing but the truth. +</p> + +<p> +April 6.—The lieutenant watching for some sign of misfortune to me. Says that I +can’t break a mirror twice without ill-luck following it. Me! +</p> + +<p> +April 9.—Lieut. True Born comes up to me with a face full of conflicting +emotions. “Your ill-luck has come at last,” he says with gloomy satisfaction. +“We go under canvas on the 23rd. You are losing me!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap10"></a>THE SUBSTITUTE</h2> + +<p> +The night watchman had just returned to the office fire after leaving it to +attend a ring at the wharf bell. He sat for some time puffing fiercely at his +pipe and breathing heavily. +</p> + +<p> +“Boys!” he said, at last. “That’s the third time this week, and yet if I was to +catch one and skin ’im alive I suppose I should get into trouble over it. Even +’is own father and mother would make a fuss, most like. Some people have boys, +and other people ’ave the trouble of ’em. Our street’s full of ’em, and the way +they carry on would make a monkey-’ouse ashamed of itself. The man next door to +me’s got seven of ’em, and when I spoke to ’im friendly about it over a pint +one night, he put the blame on ’is wife. +</p> + +<p> +“The worst boy I ever knew used to be office-boy in this ’ere office, and I +can’t understand now why I wasn’t ’ung for him. Undersized little chap he was, +with a face the colour o’ bad pie-crust, and two little black eyes like +shoe-buttons. To see ’im with his little white cuffs, and a stand-up collar, +and a little black bow, and a little bowler-’at, was enough to make a cat +laugh. I told ’im so one day, and arter that we knew where we was. Both of us. +</p> + +<p> +“By rights he ought to ’ave left the office at six—just my time for coming on. +As it was, he used to stay late, purtending to work ’ard so as to get a rise. +Arter all the clerks ’ad gorn ’ome he used to sit perched up on a stool yards +too ’igh for him, with one eye on the ledger and the other looking through the +winder at me. I remember once going off for ’arf a pint, and when I come back I +found ’im with a policeman, two carmen, and all the hands off of the Maid +Marian, standing on the edge of the jetty, waiting for me to come up. He said +that, not finding me on the wharf, ’e made sure that I must ’ave tumbled +overboard, as he felt certain that I wouldn’t neglect my dooty while there was +breath in my body; but ’e was sorry to find ’e was mistook. He stood there +talking like a little clergyman, until one of the carmen knocked his ’at over +’is eyes, and then he forgot ’imself for a bit. +</p> + +<p> +“Arter that I used to wait until he ’ad gorn afore I ’ad my arf-pint. I didn’t +want my good name taken away, and I had to be careful, and many’s the good +arf-pint I ’ad to refuse because that little imitation monkey was sitting in +the office drawing faces on ’is blotting-paper. But sometimes it don’t matter +’ow careful you are, you make a mistake. +</p> + +<p> +“There was a little steamer, called the Eastern Monarch, used to come up here +in them days, once a week. Fat little tub she was, with a crew o’ fattish old +men, and a skipper that I didn’t like. He’d been in the coasting trade all ’is +life, while I’ve knocked about all over the world, but to hear ’im talk you’d +think he knew more about things than I did. +</p> + +<p> +“Eddication, Bill,’ he ses one evening, ‘that’s the thing! You can’t argufy +without it; you only talk foolish, like you are doing now.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘There’s eddication and there’s common sense,’ I ses. ‘Some people ’as one and +some people ’as the other. Give me common sense.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘That’s wot you want,’ he ses, nodding. +</p> + +<p> +“‘And, o’ course,’ I ses, looking at ’im, ‘there’s some people ’asn’t got +either one or the other.’ +</p> + +<p> +“The office-boy came out of the office afore he could think of an answer, and +the pair of ’em stood there talking to show off their cleverness, till their +tongues ached. I took up my broom and went on sweeping, and they was so busy +talking long words they didn’t know the meaning of to each other that they was +arf choked with dust afore they noticed it. When they did notice it they left +off using long words, and the skipper tried to hurt my feelings with a few +short ones ’e knew. +</p> + +<p> +“‘It’s no good wasting your breath on ’im,’ ses the boy. ‘You might as well +talk to a beer-barrel.’ +</p> + +<p> +“He went off, dusting ’imself down with his little pocket-’ankercher, and arter +the skipper ’ad told me wot he’d like to do, only he was too sorry for me to do +it, ’e went back to the ship to put on a clean collar, and went off for the +evening. +</p> + +<p> +“He always used to go off by hisself of a evening, and I used to wonder ’ow he +passed the time. Then one night I found out. +</p> + +<p> +“I had just come out of the Bear’s Head, and stopped to look round afore going +back to the wharf, when I see a couple o’ people standing on the swing-bridge +saying ‘Good-bye’ to each other. One of ’em was a man and the other wasn’t. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Evening, cap’n,’ I ses, as he came towards me, and gave a little start. ‘I +didn’t know you ’ad brought your missis up with you this trip.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Evening, Bill,’ he ses, very peaceful. ‘Wot a lovely evening!’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Bee-utiful!’ I ses. +</p> + +<p> +“‘So fresh,’ ses the skipper, sniffing in some of the air. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Makes you feel quite young agin,’ I ses. +</p> + +<p> +“He didn’t say nothing to that, except to look at me out of the corner of ’is +eye; and stepping on to the wharf had another look at the sky to admire it, and +then went aboard his ship. If he ’ad only stood me a pint, and trusted me, +things might ha’ turned out different. +</p> + +<p> +“Quite by chance I happened to be in the Bear’s Head a week arterwards, and, +quite by chance, as I came out I saw the skipper saying ‘Good-bye’ on the +bridge agin. He seemed to be put out about something, and when I said ‘Wot a +lovely evening it would be if only it wasn’t raining ’ard!’ he said something +about knocking my ’ead off. +</p> + +<p> +“‘And you keep your nose out o’ my bisness,’ he ses, very fierce. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Your bisness!’ I ses. ‘Wot bisness?’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘There’s some people as might like to know that you leave the wharf to look +arter itself while you’re sitting in a pub swilling gallons and gallons o’ +beer,’ he ses, in a nasty sort o’ way. ‘Live and let live, that’s my motter.” +</p> + +<p> +“‘I don’t know wot you’re talking about,’ I ses, ‘but it don’t matter anyways. +I’ve got a clear conscience; that’s the main thing. I’m as open as the day, and +there’s nothing about me that I’d mind anybody knowing. Wot a pity it is +everybody can’t say the same!’ +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t see ’im saying ‘Good-bye’ the next week or the week arter that +either, but the third week, arter just calling in at the Bear’s Head, I +strolled on casual-like and got as far as the bottom of Tower Hill afore I +remembered myself. Turning the corner, I a’most fell over the skipper, wot was +right in the fair way, shaking ’ands with his lady-friend under the lamp-post. +Both of ’em started, and I couldn’t make up my mind which gave me the most +unpleasant look. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Peep-bo!’ I ses, cheerful-like. +</p> + +<p> +“He stood making a gobbling noise at me, like a turkey. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Give me quite a start, you did,’ I ses. ‘I didn’t dream of you being there.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Get off!’ he ses, spluttering. ‘Get off, afore I tear you limb from limb! ’Ow +dare you follow me about and come spying round corners at me? Wot d’ye mean by +it?’ +</p> + +<p> +“I stood there with my arms folded acrost my chest, as calm as a cucumber. The +other party stood there watching us, and wot ’e could ’ave seen in her, I can’t +think. She was dressed more like a man than a woman, and it would have taken +the good looks of twenty like her to ’ave made one barmaid. I stood looking at +’er like a man in a dream. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Well, will you know me agin?’ she ses, in a nasty cracked sort of voice. +</p> + +<p> +“‘I could pick you out of a million,’ I ses—‘if I wanted to.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Clear out!’ ses the skipper. ‘Clear out! And thank your stars there’s a lady +present.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Don’t take no notice of ’im, Captain Pratt,’ ses the lady. ‘He’s beneath you. +You only encourage people like that by taking notice of ’em. Good-bye.’ +</p> + +<p> +“She held out her ’and, and while the skipper was shaking it I began to walk +back to the wharf. I ’adn’t gorn far afore I heard ’im coming up behind me, and +next moment ’e was walking alongside and saying things to try and make me lose +my temper. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Ah, it’s a pity your pore missis can’t ’ear you!’ I ses. ‘I expect she thinks +you are stowed away in your bunk dreaming of ’er, instead of saying things +about a face as don’t belong to you.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘You mind your bisness,’ he ses, shouting. ‘And not so much about my missis! +D’ye hear? Wot’s it got to do with you? Who asked you to shove your oar in?’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘You’re quite mistook,’ I ses, very calm. ‘I’d no idea that there was anything +on as shouldn’t be. I was never more surprised in my life. If anybody ’ad told +me, I shouldn’t ’ave believed ’em. I couldn’t. Knowing you, and knowing ’ow +respectable you ’ave always purtended to be, and also and likewise that you +ain’t no chicken——’ +</p> + +<p> +“I thought ’e was going to ’ave a fit. He ’opped about, waving his arms and +stuttering and going on in such a silly way that I didn’t like to be seen with +’im. Twice he knocked my ’at off, and arter telling him wot would ’appen if ’e +did it agin, I walked off and left him. +</p> + +<p> +“Even then ’e wasn’t satisfied, and arter coming on to the wharf and following +me up and down like a little dog, he got in front of me and told me some more +things he ’ad thought of. +</p> + +<p> +“‘If I catch you spying on me agin,’ he ses, ‘you’ll wish you’d never been +born!’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘You get aboard and ’ave a quiet sleep,’ I ses. ‘You’re wandering in your +mind.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘The lady you saw me with,’ he ses, looking at me very fierce, ’is a friend o’ +mine that I meet sometimes for the sake of her talk.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Talk!’ I ses, staring at ’im. ‘Talk! Wot, can’t one woman talk enough for +you? Is your missis dumb? or wot?’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘You don’t understand,’ he ses, cocking up ’is nose at me. ‘She’s a +interleckshal woman; full of eddication and information. When my missis talks, +she talks about the price o’ things and says she must ’ave more money. Or else +she talks about things I’ve done, or sometimes things I ’aven’t done. It’s all +one to her. There’s no pleasure in that sort o’ talk. It don’t help a man.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘I never ’eard of any talk as did,’ I ses. +</p> + +<p> +“‘I don’t suppose you did,’ he ses, sneering-like. ‘Now, to-night, fust of all, +we talked about the House of Lords and whether it ought to be allowed; and +arter that she gave me quite a little lecture on insecks.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘It don’t seem proper to me,’ I ses. ‘I ’ave spoke to my wife about ’em once +or twice, but I should no more think of talking about such things to a single +lady——’ +</p> + +<p> +“He began to jump about agin as if I’d bit ’im, and he ’ad so much to say about +my ’ed and blocks of wood that I pretty near lost my temper. I should ha’ lost +it with some men, but ’e was a very stiff-built chap and as hard as nails. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Beer’s your trouble,’ he ses, at last. ‘Fust of all you put it down, and then +it climbs up and soaks wot little brains you’ve got. Wot you want is a kind +friend to prevent you from getting it.’ +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know wot it was, but I ’ad a sort of sinking feeling inside as ’e +spoke, and next evening, when I saw ’im walk to the end of the jetty with the +office-boy and stand there talking to ’im with his ’and on his shoulder, it +came on worse than ever. And I put two and two together when the guv’nor came +up to me next day, and, arter talking about ‘dooty’ and ’ow easy it was to get +night-watchmen, mentioned in ’a off-’and sort of way that, if I left the wharf +at all between six and six, I could stay away altogether. +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t answer ’im a word. I might ha’ told ’im that there was plenty of +people arter me ready to give me double the money, but I knew he could never +get anybody to do their dooty by the wharf like I ’ad done, so I kept quiet. +It’s the way I treat my missis nowadays, and it pays; in the old days I used to +waste my breath answering ’er back. +</p> + +<p> +“I wouldn’t ha’ minded so much if it ’adn’t ha’ been for that boy. He used to +pass me, as ’e went off of a evening, with a little sly smile on ’is ugly +little face, and sometimes when I was standing at the gate he’d give a sniff or +two and say that he could smell beer, and he supposed it came from the Bear’s +Head. +</p> + +<p> +“It was about three weeks arter the guv’nor ’ad forgot ’imself, and I was +standing by the gate one evening, when I saw a woman coming along carrying a +big bag in her ’and. I ’adn’t seen ’er afore, and when she stopped in front of +me and smiled I was on my guard at once. I don’t smile at other people, and I +don’t expect them to smile at me. +</p> + +<p> +“‘At last!’ she ses, setting down ’er bag and giving me another smile. ‘I +thought I was never going to get ’ere.” +</p> + +<p> +“I coughed and backed inside a little bit on to my own ground. I didn’t want to +’ave that little beast of a office-boy spreading tales about me. +</p> + +<p> +“‘I’ve come up to ’ave a little fling,’ she ses, smiling away harder than ever. +‘My husband don’t know I’m ’ere. He thinks I’m at ’ome.’ +</p> + +<p> +“I think I went back pretty near three yards. +</p> + +<p> +“‘I come up by train,’ she ses, nodding. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Yes,’ I ses, very severe, ‘and wot about going back by it?’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Oh, I shall go back by ship,’ she ses. ‘Wot time do you expect the Eastern +Monarch up?’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Well,’ I ses, ’ardly knowing wot to make of ’er, ‘she ought to be up this +tide; but there’s no reckoning on wot an old washtub with a engine like a +sewing-machine inside ’er will do.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Oh, indeed!’ she ses, leaving off smiling very sudden. ‘Oh, indeed! My +husband might ’ave something to say about that.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Your ’usband?’ I ses. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Captain Pratt,’ she ses, drawing ’erself up. ‘I’m Mrs. Pratt. He left +yesterday morning, and I’ve come up ’ere by train to give ’im a little +surprise.’ +</p> + +<p> +“You might ha’ knocked me down with a feather, and I stood there staring at her +with my mouth open, trying to think. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Take care,’ I ses at last. ‘Take care as you don’t give ’im too much of a +surprise!’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Wot do you mean?’ she ses, firing up. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Nothing,’ I ses. ‘Nothing, only I’ve known ’usbands in my time as didn’t like +being surprised—that’s all. If you take my advice, you’ll go straight back home +agin.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘I’ll tell ’im wot you say,’ she ses, ’as soon as ’is ship comes in.’ +</p> + +<p> +“That’s a woman all over; the moment they get into a temper they want to hurt +somebody; and I made up my mind at once that, if anybody was going to be ’urt, +it wasn’t me. And, besides, I thought it might be for the skipper’s good—in the +long run. +</p> + +<p> +“I broke it to her as gentle as I could. I didn’t tell ’er much, I just gave +her a few ’ints. Just enough to make her ask for more. +</p> + +<p> +“‘And mind,’ I ses, ‘I don’t want to be brought into it. If you should ’appen +to take a fancy into your ’ed to wait behind a pile of empties till the ship +comes in, and then slip out and foller your ’usband and give ’im the little +surprise you spoke of, it’s nothing to do with me.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘I understand,’ she ses, biting her lip. ‘There’s no need for ’im to know that +I’ve been on the wharf at all.’ +</p> + +<p> +“I gave ’er a smile—I thought she deserved it—but she didn’t smile back. She +was rather a nice-looking woman in the ordinary way, but I could easy see ’ow +temper spoils a woman’s looks. She stood there giving little shivers and +looking as if she wanted to bite somebody. +</p> + +<p> +“‘I’ll go and hide now,’ she ses. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Not yet,’ I ses. ‘You’ll ’ave to wait till that little blackbeetle in the +office ’as gorn.’ ‘Blackbeetle?’ she ses, staring. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Office-boy,’ I ses. ‘He’d better not see you at all. S’pose you go off for a +bit and come back when I whistle?’ +</p> + +<p> +“Afore she could answer the boy came out of the office, ready to go ’ome. He +gave a little bit of a start when ’e saw me talking to a lady, and then ’e nips +down sudden, about a couple o’ yards away, and begins to do ’is bootlace up. It +took ’im some time, because he ’ad to undo it fust, but ’e finished it at last, +and arter a quick look at Mrs. Pratt, and one at me that I could ha’ smacked +his ’ed for, ’e went off whistling and showing ’is little cuffs. +</p> + +<p> +“I stepped out into the road and watched ’im out o’ sight. Then I told Mrs. +Pratt to pick up ’er bag and foller me. +</p> + +<p> +“As it ’appened there was a big pile of empties in the corner of the ware’ouse +wall, just opposite the Eastern Monarch’s berth. It might ha’ been made for the +job, and, arter I ’ad tucked her away behind and given ’er a box to sit on, I +picked up my broom and began to make up for lost time. +</p> + +<p> +“She sat there as quiet as a cat watching a mouse’ole, and I was going on with +my work, stopping every now and then to look and see whether the Monarch was in +sight, when I ’appened to turn round and see the office-boy standing on the +edge of the wharf with his back to the empties, looking down at the water. I +nearly dropped my broom. +</p> + +<p> +“‘’Ullo!’ I ses, going up to ’im. ‘I thought you ’ad gorn ’ome.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘I was going,’ he ses, with a nasty oily little smile, ‘and then it struck me +all of a sudden ’ow lonely it was for you all alone ’ere, and I come back to +keep you company.’ +</p> + +<p> +“He winked at something acrost the river as ’e spoke, and I stood there +thinking my ’ardest wot was the best thing to be done. I couldn’t get Mrs. +Pratt away while ’e was there; besides which I felt quite sartain she wouldn’t +go. The only ’ope I ’ad was that he’d get tired of spying on me and go away +before he found out she was ’iding on the wharf. +</p> + +<p> +“I walked off in a unconcerned way—not too far—and, with one eye on ’im and the +other on where Mrs. Pratt was ’iding, went on with my work. There’s nothing +like ’ard work when a man is worried, and I was a’most forgetting my troubles, +when I looked up and saw the Monarch coming up the river. +</p> + +<p> +“She turned to come into ’er berth, with the skipper shouting away on the +bridge and making as much fuss as if ’e was berthing a liner. I helped to make +’er fast, and the skipper, arter ’e had ’ad a good look round to see wot ’e +could find fault with, went below to clean ’imself. +</p> + +<p> +“He was up agin in about ten minutes, with a clean collar and a clean face, and +a blue neck-tie that looked as though it ’ad got yeller measles. Good temper ’e +was in, too, and arter pulling the office-boy’s ear, gentle, as ’e was passing, +he stopped for a moment to ’ave a word with ’im. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Bit late, ain’t you?’ he ses. +</p> + +<p> +“‘I’ve been keeping a eye on the watchman,’ ses the boy. ‘He works better when +’e knows there’s somebody watching ’im.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Look ’ere!’ I ses. ‘You take yourself off; I’ve had about enough of you. You +take your little face ’ome and ask your mother to wipe its nose. Strickly +speaking, you’ve no right to be on the wharf at all at this time.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘I’ve as much right as other people,’ he ses, giving me a wicked look. ‘I’ve +got more right than some people, p’r’aps.’ +</p> + +<p> +“He stooped down deliberate and, picking up a bit o’ coke from the ’eap by the +crane, pitched it over at the empties. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Stop that!’ I ses, shouting at ’im. +</p> + +<p> +“‘What for?’ ’e ses, shying another piece. ‘Why shouldn’t I?’ +</p> + +<p> +“’Cos I won’t ’ave it,’ I ses. ‘D’ye hear? Stop it!’ +</p> + +<p> +“I rushed at ’im as he sent another piece over, and for the next two or three +minutes ’e was dodging me and chucking coke at the empties, with the fool of a +skipper standing by laughing, and two or three of the crew leaning over the +side and cheering ’im on. +</p> + +<p> +“‘All right,’ he ses, at last, dusting ’is hands together. ‘I’ve finished. +There’s no need to make such a fuss over a bit of coke.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘You’ve wasted pretty near arf a ’undered-weight,’ I ses. ‘I’ve a good mind to +report you.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Don’t do that, watchman!’ he ses, in a pitiful voice. ‘Don’t do that! ’Ere, I +tell you wot I’ll do. I’ll pick it all up agin.’ +</p> + +<p> +“Afore I could move ’and or foot he ’ad shifted a couple o’ cases out of ’is +way and was in among the empties. I stood there dazed-like while two bits o’ +coke came flying back past my ’ed; then I ’eard a loud whistle, and ’e came out +agin with ’is eyes rolling and ’is mouth wide open. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Wot’s the matter?’ ses the skipper, staring at ’im. +</p> + +<p> +“‘I—I—I’m sorry, watchman,’ ses that beast of a boy, purtending ’e was ’ardly +able to speak. ‘I’d no idea——’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘All right,’ I ses, very quick. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Wot’s the matter?’ ses the skipper agin; and as ’e spoke it came over me like +a flash wot a false persition I was in, and wot a nasty-tempered man ’e could +be when ’e liked. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Why didn’t you tell me you’d got a lady-friend there?’ ses the boy, shaking +his ’ed at me. ‘Why, I might ’ave hit ’er with a bit o’ coke, and never +forgiven myself!’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Lady-friend!’ ses the skipper, with a start. ‘Oh, Bill, I am surprised!’ +</p> + +<p> +“My throat was so dry I couldn’t ’ardly speak. ‘It’s my missis,’ I ses, at +last. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Your missis?’ ses the skipper. ‘Woes she ’iding behind there for?’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘She—she’s shy,’ I ses. ‘Always was, all ’er life. She can’t bear other +people. She likes to be alone with me.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Oh, watchman!’ ses the boy. ‘I wonder where you expect to go to?’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Missis my grandmother!’ ses the skipper, with a wink. ‘I’m going to ’ave a +peep.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Stand back!’ I ses, pushing ’im off. ‘I don’t spy on you, and I don’t want +you to come spying on me. You get off! D’ye hear me? Get off!’ +</p> + +<p> +“We had a bit of a struggle, till my foot slipped, and while I was waving my +arms and trying to get my balance back ’e made a dash for the empties. Next +moment he was roaring like a mad bull that ’ad sat down in a sorsepan of +boiling water, and rushing back agin to kill me. +</p> + +<p> +“I believe that if it ’adn’t ha’ been for a couple o’ lightermen wot ’ad just +come on to the jetty from their skiff, and two of his own ’ands, he’d ha’ done +it. Crazy with passion ’e was, and it was all the four of ’em could do to hold +’im. Every now and then he’d get a yard nearer to me, and then they’d pull ’im +back a couple o’ yards and beg of ’im to listen to reason and ’ear wot I ’ad to +say. And as soon as I started and began to tell ’em about ’is lady-friend he +broke out worse than ever. People acrost the river must ha’ wondered wot was +’appening. There was two lightermen, two sailormen, me and the skipper, and +Mrs. Pratt all talking at once, and nobody listening but the office-boy. And in +the middle of it all the wicket was pushed open and the ’ed of the lady wot all +the trouble was about peeped in, and drew back agin. +</p> + +<p> +“‘There you are!’ I ses, shouting my ’ardest. ‘There she is. That’s the lady I +was telling you about. Now, then: put ’em face to face and clear my character. +Don’t let ’er escape.’ +</p> + +<p> +“One o’ the lightermen let go o’ the skipper and went arter ’er, and, just as I +was giving the other three a helping ’and, ’e came back with ’er. Mrs. Pratt +caught ’er breath, and as for the skipper, ’e didn’t know where to look, as the +saying is. I just saw the lady give ’im one quick look, and then afore I could +dream of wot was coming, she rushes up to me and flings ’er long, bony arms +round my neck. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Why, William!’ she ses, ‘wot’s the matter? Why didn’t you meet me? Didn’t you +get my letter? Or ’ave you ceased to care for me?” +</p> + +<p> +“‘Let go!’ I ses, struggling. ‘Let go! D’ye ’ear? Wot d’ye mean by it? You’ve +got ’old of the wrong one.’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Oh, William!’ she ses, arf strangling me. ‘’Ow can you talk to me like that? +Where’s your ’art?’ +</p> + +<p> +“I never knew a woman so strong. I don’t suppose she’d ever ’ad the chance of +getting ’er arms round a man’s neck afore, and she hung on to me as if she’d +never let go. And all the time I was trying to explain things to them over ’er +shoulder I could see they didn’t believe a word I was saying. One o’ the +lightermen said I was a ‘wonder,’ and the other said I was a ‘fair cough-drop.’ +Me! +</p> + +<p> +“She got tired of it at last, but by that time I was so done up I couldn’t say +a word. I just dropped on to a box and sat there getting my breath back while +the skipper forgave ’is wife for ’er unjust suspicions of ’im—but told ’er not +to do it agin—and the office-boy was saying I’d surprised even ’im. The last I +saw of the lady-friend, the two lightermen was helping ’er to walk to the gate, +and the two sailormen was follering ’er up behind, carrying ’er +pocket-’ankercher and upberella.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap11"></a>STRIKING HARD</h2> + +<p> +You’ve what?” demanded Mrs. Porter, placing the hot iron carefully on its stand +and turning a heated face on the head of the family. +</p> + +<p> +“Struck,” repeated Mr. Porter; “and the only wonder to me is we’ve stood it so +long as we have. If I was to tell you all we’ve ’ad to put up with I don’t +suppose you’d believe me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very likely,” was the reply. “You can keep your fairy-tales for them that like +’em. They’re no good to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“We stood it till flesh and blood could stand it no longer,” declared her +husband, “and at last we came out, shoulder to shoulder, singing. The people +cheered us, and one of our leaders made ’em a speech.” +</p> + +<p> +“I should have liked to ’ave heard the singing,” remarked his wife. “If they +all sang like you, it must ha’ been as good as a pantermime! Do you remember +the last time you went on strike?” +</p> + +<p> +“This is different,” said Mr. Porter, with dignity. +</p> + +<p> +“All our things went, bit by bit,” pursued his wife, “all the money we had put +by for a rainy day, and we ’ad to begin all over again. What are we going to +live on? O’ course, you might earn something by singing in the street; people +who like funny faces might give you something! Why not go upstairs and put your +’ead under the bed-clothes and practise a bit?” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Porter coughed. “It’ll be all right,” he said, confidently. “Our committee +knows what it’s about; Bert Robinson is one of the best speakers I’ve ever +’eard. If we don’t all get five bob a week more I’ll eat my ’ead.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s the best thing you could do with it,” snapped his wife. She took up her +iron again, and turning an obstinate back to his remarks resumed her work. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Porter lay long next morning, and, dressing with comfortable slowness, +noticed with pleasure that the sun was shining. Visions of a good breakfast and +a digestive pipe, followed by a walk in the fresh air, passed before his eyes +as he laced his boots. Whistling cheerfully he went briskly downstairs. +</p> + +<p> +It was an October morning, but despite the invigorating chill in the air the +kitchen-grate was cold and dull. Herring-bones and a disorderly collection of +dirty cups and platters graced the table. Perplexed and angry, he looked around +for his wife, and then, opening the back-door, stood gaping with astonishment. +The wife of his bosom, who should have had a bright fire and a good breakfast +waiting for him, was sitting on a box in the sunshine, elbows on knees and +puffing laboriously at a cigarette. +</p> + +<p> +“Susan!” he exclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Porter turned, and, puffing out her lips, blew an immense volume of smoke. +“Halloa!” she said, carelessly. +</p> + +<p> +“Wot—wot does this mean?” demanded her husband. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Porter smiled with conscious pride. “I made it come out of my nose just +now,” she replied. “At least, some of it did, and I swallowed the rest. Will it +hurt me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Where’s my breakfast?” inquired the other, hotly. “Why ain’t the kitchen-fire +alight? Wot do you think you’re doing of?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not doing anything,” said his wife, with an aggrieved air. “I’m on +strike.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Porter reeled against the door-post. “Wot!” he stammered. “On strike? +Nonsense! You can’t be.” +</p> + +<p> +“O, yes, I can,” retorted Mrs. Porter, closing one eye and ministering to it +hastily with the corner of her apron. “Not ’aving no Bert Robinson to do it for +me, I made a little speech all to myself, and here I am.” +</p> + +<p> +She dropped her apron, replaced the cigarette, and, with her hands on her plump +knees, eyes him steadily. +</p> + +<p> +“But—but this ain’t a factory,” objected the dismayed man; “and, besides —I +won’t ’ave it!” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Porter laughed—a fat, comfortable laugh, but with a touch of hardness in +it. +</p> + +<p> +“All right, mate,” she said, comfortably. “What are you out on strike for?” +</p> + +<p> +“Shorter hours and more money,” said Mr. Porter, glaring at her. +</p> + +<p> +His wife nodded. “So am I,” she said. “I wonder who gets it first?” +</p> + +<p> +She smiled agreeably at the bewildered Mr. Porter, and, extracting a paper +packet of cigarettes from her pocket, lit a fresh one at the stub of the first. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s the worst of a woman,” said her husband, avoiding her eye and +addressing a sanitary dustbin of severe aspect; “they do things without +thinking first. That’s why men are superior; before they do a thing they look +at it all round, and upside down, and—and—make sure it can be done. Now, you +get up in a temper this morning, and the first thing you do—not even waiting to +get my breakfast ready first—is to go on strike. If you’d thought for two +minutes you’d see as ’ow it’s impossible for you to go on strike for more than +a couple of hours or so.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why?” inquired Mrs. Porter. +</p> + +<p> +“Kids,” replied her husband, triumphantly. “They’ll be coming ’ome from school +soon, won’t they? And they’ll be wanting their dinner, won’t they?” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s all right,” murmured the other, vaguely. +</p> + +<p> +“After which, when night comes,” pursued Mr. Porter, “they’ll ’ave to be put to +bed. In the morning they’ll ’ave to be got up and washed and dressed and given +their breakfast and sent off to school. Then there’s shopping wot must be done, +and beds wot must be made.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll make ours,” said his wife, decidedly. “For my own sake.” +</p> + +<p> +“And wot about the others?” inquired Mr. Porter. +</p> + +<p> +“The others’ll be made by the same party as washes the children, and cooks +their dinner for ’em, and puts ’em to bed, and cleans the ’ouse,” was the +reply. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not going to have your mother ’ere,” exclaimed Mr. Porter, with sudden +heat. “Mind that!” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t want her,” said Mrs. Porter. “It’s a job for a strong, healthy man, +not a pore old thing with swelled legs and short in the breath.” +</p> + +<p> +“Strong—’ealthy—man!” repeated her husband, in a dazed voice. “Strong—’eal—— +Wot are you talking about?” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Porter beamed on him. “You,” she said, sweetly. +</p> + +<p> +There was a long silence, broken at last by a firework display of expletives. +Mrs. Porter, still smiling, sat unmoved. +</p> + +<p> +“You may smile!” raved the indignant Mr. Porter. “You may sit there smiling and +smoking like a—like a man, but if you think that I’m going to get the meals +ready, and soil my ’ands with making beds and washing-up, you’re mistook. +There’s some ’usbands I know as would set about you!” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Porter rose. “Well, I can’t sit here gossiping with you all day,” she +said, entering the house. +</p> + +<p> +“Wot are you going to do?” demanded her husband, following her. +</p> + +<p> +“Going to see Aunt Jane and ’ave a bit o’ dinner with her,” was the reply. “And +after that I think I shall go to the ‘pictures.’ If you ’ave bloaters for +dinner be very careful with little Jemmy and the bones.” +</p> + +<p> +“I forbid you to leave this ’ouse!” said Mr. Porter, in a thrilling voice. “If +you do you won’t find nothing done when you come home, and all the kids dirty +and starving.” +</p> + +<p> +“Cheerio!” said Mrs. Porter. +</p> + +<p> +Arrayed in her Sunday best she left the house half an hour later. A glance over +her shoulder revealed her husband huddled up in a chair in the dirty kitchen, +gazing straight before him at the empty grate. +</p> + +<p> +He made a hearty breakfast at a neighbouring coffee-shop, and, returning home, +lit the fire and sat before it, smoking. The return of the four children from +school, soon after midday, found him still wrestling with the difficulties of +the situation. His announcement that their mother was out and that there would +be no dinner was received at first in stupefied silence. Then Jemmy, opening +his mouth to its widest extent, acted as conductor to an all-too-willing +chorus. +</p> + +<p> +The noise was unbearable, and Mr. Porter said so. Pleased with the tribute, the +choir re-doubled its efforts, and Mr. Porter, vociferating orders for silence, +saw only too clearly the base advantage his wife had taken of his affection for +his children. He took some money from his pocket and sent the leading treble +out marketing, after which, with the assistance of a soprano aged eight, he +washed up the breakfast things and placed one of them in the dustbin. +</p> + +<p> +The entire family stood at his elbow as he cooked the dinner, and watched, with +bated breath, his frantic efforts to recover a sausage which had fallen out of +the frying-pan into the fire. A fourfold sigh of relief heralded its return to +the pan. +</p> + +<p> +“Mother always—” began the eldest boy. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Porter took his scorched fingers out of his mouth and smacked the critic’s +head. +</p> + +<p> +The dinner was not a success. Portions of half-cooked sausages returned to the +pan, and coming back in the guise of cinders failed to find their rightful +owners. +</p> + +<p> +“Last time we had sausages,” said the eight-year-old Muriel, “they melted in +your mouth.” Mr. Porter glowered at her. +</p> + +<p> +“Instead of in the fire,” said the eldest boy, with a mournful snigger. +</p> + +<p> +“If I get up to you, my lad,” said the harassed Mr. Porter, “you’ll know it! +Pity you don’t keep your sharpness for your lessons! Wot country is Africa in?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, Africa’s a continent!” said the startled youth. +</p> + +<p> +“Jes so,” said his father; “but wot I’m asking you is: wot country is it in?” +</p> + +<p> +“Asia,” said the reckless one, with a side-glance at Muriel. +</p> + +<p> +“And why couldn’t you say so before?” demanded Mr. Porter, sternly. “Now, you +go to the sink and give yourself a thorough good wash. And mind you come +straight home from school. There’s work to be done.” +</p> + +<p> +He did some of it himself after the children had gone, and finished up the +afternoon with a little shopping, in the course of which he twice changed his +grocer and was threatened with an action for slander by his fishmonger. He +returned home with his clothes bulging, although a couple of eggs in the +left-hand coat-pocket had done their best to accommodate themselves to his +figure. +</p> + +<p> +He went to bed at eleven o’clock, and at a quarter past, clad all too lightly +for the job, sped rapidly downstairs to admit his wife. +</p> + +<p> +“Some ’usbands would ’ave let you sleep on the doorstep all night,” he said, +crisply. +</p> + +<p> +“I know they would,” returned his wife, cheerfully. “That’s why I married you. +I remember the first time I let you come ’ome with me, mother ses: ‘There ain’t +much of ’im, Susan,’ she ses; ‘still, arf a loaf is better than—’” +</p> + +<p> +The bedroom-door slammed behind the indignant Mr. Porter, and the three lumps +and a depression which had once been a bed received his quivering frame again. +With the sheet obstinately drawn over his head he turned a deaf ear to his +wife’s panegyrics on striking and her heartfelt tribute to the end of a perfect +day. Even when standing on the cold floor while she remade the bed he +maintained an attitude of unbending dignity, only relaxing when she smote him +light-heartedly with the bolster. In a few ill-chosen words he expressed his +opinion of her mother and her deplorable methods of bringing up her daughters. +</p> + +<p> +He rose early next morning, and, after getting his own breakfast, put on his +cap and went out, closing the street-door with a bang that awoke the entire +family and caused the somnolent Mrs. Porter to open one eye for the purpose of +winking with it. Slowly, as became a man of leisure, he strolled down to the +works, and, moving from knot to knot of his colleagues, discussed the prospects +of victory. Later on, with a little natural diffidence, he drew Mr. Bert +Robinson apart and asked his advice upon a situation which was growing more and +more difficult. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve got my hands pretty full as it is, you know,” said Mr. Robinson, hastily. +</p> + +<p> +“I know you ’ave, Bert,” murmured the other. “But, you see, she told me last +night she’s going to try and get some of the other chaps’ wives to join ’er, so +I thought I ought to tell you.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Robinson started. “Have you tried giving her a hiding?” he inquired. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Porter shook his head. “I daren’t trust myself,” he replied. “I might go +too far, once I started.” +</p> + +<p> +“What about appealing to her better nature?” inquired the other. +</p> + +<p> +“She ain’t got one,” said the unfortunate. “Well, I’m sorry for you,” said Mr. +Robinson, “but I’m busy. I’ve got to see a Labour-leader this afternoon, and +two reporters, and this evening there’s the meeting. Try kindness first, and if +that don’t do, lock her up in her bedroom and keep her on bread and water.” +</p> + +<p> +He moved off to confer with his supporters, and Mr. Porter, after wandering +aimlessly about for an hour or two, returned home at mid-day with a faint hope +that his wife might have seen the error of her ways and provided dinner for +him. He found the house empty and the beds unmade. The remains of breakfast +stood on the kitchen-table, and a puddle of cold tea decorated the floor. The +arrival of the children from school, hungry and eager, completed his +discomfiture. +</p> + +<p> +For several days he wrestled grimly with the situation, while Mrs. Porter, who +had planned out her week into four days of charing, two of amusement, and +Sunday in bed, looked on with smiling approval. She even offered to give him a +little instruction—verbal—in scrubbing the kitchen-floor. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Porter, who was on his knees at the time, rose slowly to his full height, +and, with a superb gesture, emptied the bucket, which also contained a +scrubbing-brush and lump of soap, into the back-yard. Then he set off down the +street in quest of a staff. +</p> + +<p> +He found it in the person of Maudie Stevens, aged fourteen, who lived a few +doors lower down. Fresh from school the week before, she cheerfully undertook +to do the housework and cooking, and to act as nursemaid in her spare time. Her +father, on his part, cheerfully under-took to take care of her wages for her, +the first week’s, payable in advance, being banked the same evening at the Lord +Nelson. +</p> + +<p> +It was another mouth to feed, but the strike-pay was coming in very well, and +Mr. Porter, relieved from his unmanly tasks, walked the streets a free man. +Beds were made without his interference, meals were ready (roughly) at the +appointed hour, and for the first time since the strike he experienced +satisfaction in finding fault with the cook. The children’s content was not so +great, Maudie possessing a faith in the virtues of soap and water that they +made no attempt to share. They were greatly relieved when their mother returned +home after spending a couple of days with Aunt Jane. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s all this?” she demanded, as she entered the kitchen, followed by a +lady-friend. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s all what?” inquired Mr. Porter, who was sitting at dinner with the +family. +</p> + +<p> +“That,” said his wife, pointing at the cook-general. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Porter put down his knife and fork. “Got ’er in to help,” he replied, +uneasily. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you hear that?” demanded his wife, turning to her friend, Mrs. Gorman. “Oh, +these masters!” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” said her friend, vaguely. +</p> + +<p> +“A strike-breaker!” said Mrs. Porter, rolling her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Shame!” said Mrs. Gorman, beginning to understand. +</p> + +<p> +“Coming after my job, and taking the bread out of my mouth,” continued Mrs. +Porter, fluently. “Underselling me too, I’ll be bound. That’s what comes of not +having pickets.” +</p> + +<p> +“Unskilled labour,” said Mrs. Gorman, tightening her lips and shaking her head. +</p> + +<p> +“A scab!” cried Mrs. Porter, wildly. “A scab!” +</p> + +<p> +“Put her out,” counselled her friend. +</p> + +<p> +“Put her out!” repeated Mrs. Porter, in a terrible voice. “Put her out! I’ll +tear her limb from limb! I’ll put her in the copper and boil her!” +</p> + +<p> +Her voice was so loud and her appearance so alarming that the unfortunate +Maudie, emitting three piercing shrieks, rose hastily from the table and looked +around for a way of escape. The road to the front-door was barred, and with a +final yelp that set her employer’s teeth on edge she dashed into the yard and +went home via the back-fences. Housewives busy in their kitchens looked up in +amazement at the spectacle of a pair of thin black legs descending one fence, +scudding across the yard to the accompaniment of a terrified moaning, and +scrambling madly over the other. At her own back-door Maudie collapsed on the +step, and, to the intense discomfort and annoyance of her father, had her first +fit of hysterics. +</p> + +<p> +“And the next scab that comes into my house won’t get off so easy,” said Mrs. +Porter to her husband. “D’you understand?” +</p> + +<p> +“If you ’ad some husbands—” began Mr. Porter, trembling with rage. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I know,” said his wife, nodding. “Don’t cry, Jemmy,” she added, taking +the youngest on her knee. “Mother’s only having a little game. She and dad are +both on strike for more pay and less work.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Porter got up, and without going through the formality of saying good-bye +to the hard-featured Mrs. Gorman, put on his cap and went out. Over a couple of +half-pints taken as a sedative, he realized the growing seriousness of his +position. +</p> + +<p> +In a dull resigned fashion he took up his household duties again, made harder +now than before by the scandalous gossip of the aggrieved Mr. Stevens. The +anonymous present of a much-worn apron put the finishing touch to his +discomfiture; and the well-meant offer of a fair neighbour to teach him how to +shake a mat without choking himself met with a reception that took her breath +away. +</p> + +<p> +It was a surprise to him one afternoon to find that his wife had so far unbent +as to tidy up the parlour. Ornaments had been dusted and polished and the +carpet swept. She had even altered the position of the furniture. The table had +been pushed against the wall, and the easy-chair, with its back to the window, +stood stiffly confronting six or seven assorted chairs, two of which at least +had been promoted from a lower sphere. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s for the meeting,” said Muriel, peeping in. +</p> + +<p> +“Meeting?” repeated her father, in a dazed voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Strike-meetings,” was the reply. “Mrs. Gorman and some other ladies are coming +at four o’clock. Didn’t mother tell you?” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Porter, staring helplessly at the row of chairs, shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“Mrs. Evans is coming,” continued Muriel, in a hushed voice—“the lady what +punched Mr. Brown because he kept Bobbie Evans in one day. He ain’t been kept +in since. I wish you——” +</p> + +<p> +She stopped suddenly, and, held by her father’s gaze, backed slowly out of the +room. Mr. Porter, left with the chairs, stood regarding them thoughtfully. +Their emptiness made an appeal that no right-minded man could ignore. He put +his hand over his mouth and his eyes watered. +</p> + +<p> +He spent the next half-hour in issuing invitations, and at half-past three +every chair was filled by fellow-strikers. Three cans of beer, clay pipes, and +a paper of shag stood on the table. Mr. Benjamin Todd, an obese, fresh-coloured +gentleman of middle age, took the easy-chair. Glasses and teacups were filled. +</p> + +<p> +“Gentlemen,” said Mr. Todd, lighting his pipe, “afore we get on to the business +of this meeting I want to remind you that there is another meeting, of ladies, +at four o’clock; so we’ve got to hurry up. O’ course, if it should happen that +we ain’t finished——” +</p> + +<p> +“Go on, Bennie!” said a delighted admirer. “I see a female ’ead peeping in at +the winder already,” said a voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Let ’em peep,” said Mr. Todd, benignly. “Then p’r’aps they’ll be able to see +how to run a meeting.” +</p> + +<p> +“There’s two more ’eads,” said the other. “Oh, Lord, I know I sha’n’t be able +to keep a straight face!” +</p> + +<p> +“H’sh!” commanded Mr. Todd, sternly, as the street-door was heard to open. +“Be’ave yourself. As I was saying, the thing we’ve got to consider about this +strike——” +</p> + +<p> +The door opened, and six ladies, headed by Mrs. Porter, entered the room in +single file and ranged themselves silently along the wall. +</p> + +<p> +“Strike,” proceeded Mr. Todd, who found himself gazing uneasily into the eyes +of Mrs. Gorman——“strike—er—strike——” +</p> + +<p> +“He said that before,” said a stout lady, in a loud whisper; “I’m sure he did.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is,” continued Mr. Todd, “that we have got to keep this—this—er—” +</p> + +<p> +“Strike,” prompted the same voice. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Todd paused, and, wiping his mouth with a red pocket-handkerchief, sat +staring straight before him. +</p> + +<p> +“I move,” said Mrs. Evans, her sharp features twitching with excitement, “that +Mrs. Gorman takes the chair.” +</p> + +<p> +“’Ow can I take it when he’s sitting in it?” demanded that lady. +</p> + +<p> +“She’s a lady that knows what she wants and how to get it,” pursued Mrs. Evans, +unheeding. “She understands men—” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve buried two ’usbands,” murmured Mrs. Gorman, nodding. +</p> + +<p> +“And how to manage them,” continued Mrs. Evans. “I move that Mrs. Gorman takes +the chair. Those in favour—” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Todd, leaning back in his chair and gripping the arms, gazed defiantly at a +row of palms. +</p> + +<p> +“Carried unanimously!” snapped Mrs. Evans. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Gorman, tall and bony, advanced and stood over Mr. Todd. Strong men held +their breath. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s my chair,” she said, gruffly. “I’ve been moved into it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Possession,” said Mr. Todd, in as firm a voice as he could manage, “is nine +points of the law. I’m here and—” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Gorman turned, and, without the slightest warning, sat down suddenly and +heavily in his lap. A hum of admiration greeted the achievement. +</p> + +<p> +“Get up!” shouted the horrified Mr. Todd. “Get up!” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Gorman settled herself more firmly. +</p> + +<p> +“Let me get up,” said Mr. Todd, panting. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Gorman rose, but remained in a hovering position, between which and the +chair Mr. Todd, flushed and dishevelled, extricated himself in all haste. A +shrill titter of laughter and a clapping of hands greeted his appearance. He +turned furiously on the pallid Mr. Porter. +</p> + +<p> +“What d’you mean by it?” he demanded. “Are you the master, or ain’t you? A man +what can’t keep order in his own house ain’t fit to be called a man. If my wife +was carrying on like this——” +</p> + +<p> +“I wish I was your wife,” said Mrs. Gorman, moistening her lips. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Todd turned slowly and surveyed her. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t,” he said, simply, and, being by this time near the door, faded gently +from the room. +</p> + +<p> +“Order!” cried Mrs. Gorman, thumping the arm of her chair with a large, +hard-working fist. “Take your seats, ladies.” +</p> + +<p> +A strange thrill passed through the bodies of her companions and communicated +itself to the men in the chairs. There was a moment’s tense pause, and then the +end man, muttering something about “going to see what had happened to poor old +Ben Todd,” rose slowly and went out. His companions, with heads erect and a +look of cold disdain upon their faces, followed him. +</p> + +<p> +It was Mr. Porter’s last meeting, but his wife had several more. They lasted, +in fact, until the day, a fortnight later, when he came in with flushed face +and sparkling eyes to announce that the strike was over and the men victorious. +</p> + +<p> +“Six bob a week more!” he said, with enthusiasm. “You see, I was right to +strike, after all.” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Porter eyed him. “I am out for four bob a week more,” she said, calmly. +</p> + +<p> +Her husband swallowed. “You—you don’t understand ’ow these things are done,” he +said, at last. “It takes time. We ought to ne—negotiate.” +</p> + +<p> +“All right,” said Mrs. Porter, readily. “Seven shillings a week, then.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let’s say four and have done with it,” exclaimed the other, hastily. +</p> + +<p> +And Mrs. Porter said it. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap12"></a>DIRTY WORK</h2> + +<p> +It was nearly high-water, and the night-watchman, who had stepped aboard a +lighter lying alongside the wharf to smoke a pipe, sat with half-closed eyes +enjoying the summer evening. The bustle of the day was over, the wharves were +deserted, and hardly a craft moved on the river. Perfumed clouds of shag, +hovering for a time over the lighter, floated lazily towards the Surrey shore. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s one thing about my job,” said the night-watchman, slowly, “it’s done +all alone by yourself. There’s no foreman a-hollering at you and offering you a +penny for your thoughts, and no mates to run into you from behind with a loaded +truck and then ask you why you didn’t look where you’re going to. From six +o’clock in the evening to six o’clock next morning I’m my own master.” +</p> + +<p> +He rammed down the tobacco with an experienced forefinger and puffed +contentedly. +</p> + +<p> +People like you ’ud find it lonely (he continued, after a pause); I did at +fust. I used to let people come and sit ’ere with me of an evening talking, but +I got tired of it arter a time, and when one chap fell overboard while ’e was +showing me ’ow he put his wife’s mother in ’er place, I gave it up altogether. +There was three foot o’ mud in the dock at the time, and arter I ’ad got ’im +out, he fainted in my arms. +</p> + +<p> +Arter that I kept myself to myself. Say wot you like, a man’s best friend is +’imself. There’s nobody else’ll do as much for ’im, or let ’im off easier when +he makes a mistake. If I felt a bit lonely I used to open the wicket in the +gate and sit there watching the road, and p’r’aps pass a word or two with the +policeman. Then something ’appened one night that made me take quite a dislike +to it for a time. +</p> + +<p> +I was sitting there with my feet outside, smoking a quiet pipe, when I ’eard a +bit of a noise in the distance. Then I ’eard people running and shouts of +“Stop, thief!” A man came along round the corner full pelt, and, just as I got +up, dashed through the wicket and ran on to the wharf. I was arter ’im like a +shot and got up to ’im just in time to see him throw something into the dock. +And at the same moment I ’eard the other people run past the gate. +</p> + +<p> +“Wot’s up?” I ses, collaring ’im. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing,” he ses, breathing ’ard and struggling. “Let me go.” +</p> + +<p> +He was a little wisp of a man, and I shook ’im like a dog shakes a rat. I +remembered my own pocket being picked, and I nearly shook the breath out of +’im. +</p> + +<p> +“And now I’m going to give you in charge,” I ses, pushing ’im along towards the +gate. +</p> + +<p> +“Wot for?” he ses, purtending to be surprised. +</p> + +<p> +“Stealing,” I ses. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve made a mistake,” he ses; “you can search me if you like.” +</p> + +<p> +“More use to search the dock,” I ses. “I see you throw it in. Now you keep +quiet, else you’ll get ’urt. If you get five years I shall be all the more +pleased.” +</p> + +<p> +I don’t know ’ow he did it, but ’e did. He seemed to sink away between my legs, +and afore I knew wot was ’appening, I was standing upside down with all the +blood rushing to my ’ead. As I rolled over he bolted through the wicket, and +was off like a flash of lightning. +</p> + +<p> +A couple o’ minutes arterwards the people wot I ’ad ’eard run past came back +agin. There was a big fat policeman with ’em—a man I’d seen afore on the +beat—and, when they ’ad gorn on, he stopped to ’ave a word with me. +</p> + +<p> +“’Ot work,” he ses, taking off his ’elmet and wiping his bald ’ead with a large +red handkerchief. “I’ve lost all my puff.” +</p> + +<p> +“Been running?” I ses, very perlite. +</p> + +<p> +“Arter a pickpocket,” he ses. “He snatched a lady’s purse just as she was +stepping aboard the French boat with her ’usband. ‘Twelve pounds in it in gold, +two peppermint lozenges, and a postage stamp.’” +</p> + +<p> +He shook his ’ead, and put his ’elmet on agin. +</p> + +<p> +“Holding it in her little ’and as usual,” he ses. “Asking for trouble, I call +it. I believe if a woman ’ad one hand off and only a finger and thumb left on +the other, she’d carry ’er purse in it.” +</p> + +<p> +He knew a’most as much about wimmen as I do. When ’is fust wife died, she said +’er only wish was that she could take ’im with her, and she made ’im promise +her faithful that ’e’d never marry agin. His second wife, arter a long illness, +passed away while he was playing hymns on the concertina to her, and ’er +mother, arter looking at ’er very hard, went to the doctor and said she wanted +an inquest. +</p> + +<p> +He went on talking for a long time, but I was busy doing a bit of ’ead-work +and didn’t pay much attention to ’im. I was thinking o’ twelve pounds, two +lozenges, and a postage stamp laying in the mud at the bottom of my dock, and +arter a time ’e said ’e see as ’ow I was waiting to get back to my night’s +rest, and went off—stamping. +</p> + +<p> +I locked the wicket when he ’ad gorn away, and then I went to the edge of the +dock and stood looking down at the spot where the purse ’ad been chucked in. +The tide was on the ebb, but there was still a foot or two of water atop of the +mud. I walked up and down, thinking. +</p> + +<p> +I thought for a long time, and then I made up my mind. If I got the purse and +took it to the police-station, the police would share the money out between +’em, and tell me they ’ad given it back to the lady. If I found it and put a +notice in the newspaper—which would cost money—very likely a dozen or two +ladies would come and see me and say it was theirs. Then if I gave it to the +best-looking one and the one it belonged to turned up, there’d be trouble. My +idea was to keep it—for a time—and then if the lady who lost it came to me and +asked me for it I would give it to ’er. +</p> + +<p> +Once I had made up my mind to do wot was right I felt quite ’appy, and arter a +look up and down, I stepped round to the Bear’s Head and ’ad a couple o’ goes +o’ rum to keep the cold out. There was nobody in there but the landlord, and ’e +started at once talking about the thief, and ’ow he ’ad run arter him in ’is +shirt-sleeves. +</p> + +<p> +“My opinion is,” he ses, “that ’e bolted on one of the wharves and ’id ’imself. +He disappeared like magic. Was that little gate o’ yours open?” +</p> + +<p> +“I was on the wharf,” I ses, very cold. +</p> + +<p> +“You might ha’ been on the wharf and yet not ’ave seen anybody come on,” he +ses, nodding. +</p> + +<p> +“Wot d’ye mean?” I ses, very sharp. “Nothing,” he ses. “Nothing.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you trying to take my character away?” I ses, fixing ’im with my eye. +</p> + +<p> +“Lo’ bless me, no!” he ses, staring at me. “It’s no good to me.” +</p> + +<p> +He sat down in ’is chair behind the bar and went straight off to sleep with his +eyes screwed up as tight as they would go. Then ’e opened his mouth and snored +till the glasses shook. I suppose I’ve been one of the best customers he ever +’ad, and that’s the way he treated me. For two pins I’d ha’ knocked ’is ugly +’ead off, but arter waking him up very sudden by dropping my glass on the floor +I went off back to the wharf. +</p> + +<p> +I locked up agin, and ’ad another look at the dock. The water ’ad nearly gone +and the mud was showing in patches. My mind went back to a sailorman wot had +dropped ’is watch over-board two years before, and found it by walking about in +the dock in ’is bare feet. He found it more easy because the glass broke when +he trod on it. +</p> + +<p> +The evening was a trifle chilly for June, but I’ve been used to roughing it all +my life, especially when I was afloat, and I went into the office and began to +take my clothes off. I took off everything but my pants, and I made sure o’ +them by making braces for ’em out of a bit of string. Then I turned the gas +low, and, arter slipping on my boots, went outside. +</p> + +<p> +It was so cold that at fust I thought I’d give up the idea. The longer I stood +on the edge looking at the mud the colder it looked, but at last I turned round +and went slowly down the ladder. I waited a moment at the bottom, and was just +going to step off when I remembered that I ’ad got my boots on, and I ’ad to go +up agin and take ’em off. +</p> + +<p> +I went down very slow the next time, and anybody who ’as been down an iron +ladder with thin, cold rungs, in their bare feet, will know why, and I had just +dipped my left foot in, when the wharf-bell rang. +</p> + +<p> +I ’oped at fust that it was a runaway-ring, but it kept on, and the longer it +kept on, the worse it got. I went up that ladder agin and called out that I was +coming, and then I went into the office and just slipped on my coat and +trousers and went to the gate. +</p> + +<p> +“Wot d’you want?” I ses, opening the wicket three or four inches and looking +out at a man wot was standing there. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you old Bill?” he ses. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m the watchman,” I ses, sharp-like. “Wot d’you want?” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t bite me!” he ses, purtending to draw back. “I ain’t done no ’arm. I’ve +come round about that glass you smashed at the Bear’s Head.” +</p> + +<p> +“Glass!” I ses, ’ardly able to speak. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, glass,” he ses—“thing wot yer drink out of. The landlord says it’ll cost +you a tanner, and ’e wants it now in case you pass away in your sleep. He +couldn’t come ’imself cos he’s got nobody to mind the bar, so ’e sent me. Why! +Halloa! Where’s your boots? Ain’t you afraid o’ ketching cold?” +</p> + +<p> +“You clear off,” I ses, shouting at him. “D’ye ’ear me? Clear off while you’re +safe, and you tell the landlord that next time ’e insults me I’ll smash every +glass in ’is place and then sit ’im on top of ’cm! Tell ’im if ’e wants a +tanner out o’ me, to come round ’imself, and see wot he gets.” +</p> + +<p> +It was a silly thing to say, and I saw it arterwards, but I was in such a +temper I ’ardly knew wot I was saying. I slammed the wicket in ’is face and +turned the key and then I took off my clothes and went down that ladder agin. +</p> + +<p> +It seemed colder than ever, and the mud when I got fairly into it was worse +than I thought it could ha’ been. It stuck to me like glue, and every step I +took seemed colder than the one before. ’Owever, when I make up my mind to do a +thing, I do it. I fixed my eyes on the place where I thought the purse was, and +every time I felt anything under my foot I reached down and picked it up—and +then chucked it away as far as I could so as not to pick it up agin. Dirty job +it was, too, and in five minutes I was mud up to the neck, a’most. And I ’ad +just got to wot I thought was the right place, and feeling about very careful, +when the bell rang agin. +</p> + +<p> +I thought I should ha’ gorn out o’ my mind. It was just a little tinkle at +first, then another tinkle, but, as I stood there all in the dark and cold +trying to make up my mind to take no notice of it, it began to ring like mad. I +’ad to go—I’ve known men climb over the gate afore now—and I didn’t want to be +caught in that dock. +</p> + +<p> +The mud seemed stickier than ever, but I got out at last, and, arter scraping +some of it off with a bit o’ stick, I put on my coat and trousers and boots +just as I was and went to the gate, with the bell going its ’ardest all the +time. +</p> + +<p> +When I opened the gate and see the landlord of the Bear’s Head standing there I +turned quite dizzy, and there was a noise in my ears like the roaring of the +sea. I should think I stood there for a couple o’ minutes without being able to +say a word. I could think of ’em. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t be frightened, Bill,” ses the landlord. “I’m not going to eat you.” +</p> + +<p> +“He looks as if he’s walking in ’is sleep,” ses the fat policeman, wot was +standing near by. “Don’t startle ’im.” +</p> + +<p> +“He always looks like that,” ses the landlord. +</p> + +<p> +I stood looking at ’im. I could speak then, but I couldn’t think of any words +good enough; not with a policeman standing by with a notebook in ’is pocket. +</p> + +<p> +“Wot was you ringing my bell for?” I ses, at last. +</p> + +<p> +“Why didn’t you answer it before?” ses the landlord. “D’you think I’ve got +nothing better to do than to stand ringing your bell for three-quarters of an +hour? Some people would report you.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know my dooty,” I ses; “there’s no craft up to-night, and no reason for +anybody to come to my bell. If I was to open the gate every time a parcel of +overgrown boys rang my bell I should ’ave enough to do.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I’ll overlook it this time, seeing as you’re an old man and couldn’t get +another sleeping-in job,” he ses, looking at the policeman for him to see ’ow +clever ’e was. “Wot about that tanner? That’s wot I’ve come for.” +</p> + +<p> +“You be off,” I ses, starting to shut the wicket. “You won’t get no tanner out +of me.” +</p> + +<p> +“All right,” he ses, “I shall stand here and go on ringing the bell till you +pay up, that’s all.” +</p> + +<p> +He gave it another tug, and the policeman instead of locking ’im up for it +stood there laughing. +</p> + +<p> +I gave ’im the tanner. It was no use standing there arguing over a tanner, with +a purse of twelve quid waiting for me in the dock, but I told ’im wot people +thought of ’im. +</p> + +<p> +“Arf a second, watchman,” ses the policeman, as I started to shut the wicket +agin. “You didn’t see anything of that pickpocket, did you?” +</p> + +<p> +“I did not,” I ses. +</p> + +<p> +“’Cos this gentleman thought he might ’ave come in here,” ses the policeman. +</p> + +<p> +“’Ow could he ’ave come in here without me knowing it?” I ses, firing up. +</p> + +<p> +“Easy,” ses the landlord, “and stole your boots into the bargain!” +</p> + +<p> +“He might ’ave come when your back was turned,” ses the policeman, “and if so, +he might be ’iding there now. I wonder whether you’d mind me having a look +round?” +</p> + +<p> +“I tell you he ain’t ’ere,” I ses, very short, “but, to ease your mind, I’ll +’ave a look round myself arter you’ve gorn.” +</p> + +<p> +The policeman shook his ’ead. “Well, o’ course, I can’t come in without your +permission,” he ses, with a little cough, “but I ’ave an idea, that if it was +your guv’nor ’ere instead of you he’d ha’ been on’y too pleased to do anything +’e could to help the law. I’ll beg his pardon tomorrow for asking you, in case +he might object.” +</p> + +<p> +That settled it. That’s the police all over, and that’s ’ow they get their way +and do as they like. I could see ’im in my mind’s eye talking to the guv’nor, +and letting out little things about broken glasses and such-like by accident. I +drew back to let ’im pass, and I was so upset that when that little rat of a +landlord follered ’im I didn’t say a word. +</p> + +<p> +I stood and watched them poking and prying about the wharf as if it belonged to +’em, with the light from the policeman’s lantern flashing about all over the +place. I was shivering with cold and temper. The mud was drying on me. +</p> + +<p> +“If you’ve finished ’unting for the pickpocket I’ll let you out and get on with +my work,” I ses, drawing myself up. +</p> + +<p> +“Good night,” ses the policeman, moving off. “Good night, dear,” ses the +landlord. “Mind you tuck yourself up warm.” +</p> + +<p> +I lost my temper for the moment and afore I knew wot I was doing I ’ad got hold +of him and was shoving ’im towards the gate as ’ard as I could shove. He pretty +near got my coat off in the struggle, and next moment the police-man ’ad turned +his lantern on me and they was both staring at me as if they couldn’t believe +their eyesight. +</p> + +<p> +“He—he’s turning black!” ses the landlord. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s turned black!” ses the policeman. +</p> + +<p> +They both stood there looking at me with their mouths open, and then afore I +knew wot he was up to, the policeman came close up to me and scratched my chest +with his finger-nail. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s mud!” he ses. +</p> + +<p> +“You keep your nails to yourself,” I ses. “It’s nothing to do with you.” and I +couldn’t ’elp noticing the smell of it. Nobody could. And wot was worse than +all was, that the tide ’ad turned and was creeping over the mud in the dock. +</p> + +<p> +They got tired of it at last and came back to where I was and stood there +shaking their ’eads at me. +</p> + +<p> +“If he was on the wharf ’e must ’ave made his escape while you was in the +Bear’s Head,” ses the policeman. +</p> + +<p> +“He was in my place a long time,” ses the landlord. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, it’s no use crying over spilt milk,” ses the policeman. “Funny smell +about ’ere, ain’t there?” he ses, sniffing, and turning to the landlord. “Wot +is it?” +</p> + +<p> +“I dunno,” ses the landlord. “I noticed it while we was talking to ’im at the +gate. It seems to foller ’im about.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve smelt things I like better,” ses the policeman, sniffing agin. “It’s just +like the foreshore when somebody ’as been stirring the mud up a bit.” +</p> + +<p> +“Unless it’s a case of ’tempted suicide,” he ses, looking at me very ’ard. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” ses the landlord. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s no mud on ’is clothes,” ses the policeman, looking me over with his +lantern agin. +</p> + +<p> +“He must ’ave gone in naked, but I should like to see ’is legs to make— All +right! All right! Keep your ’air on.” +</p> + +<p> +“You look arter your own legs, then,” I ses, very sharp, “and mind your own +business.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is my business,” he ses, turning to the landlord. “Was ’e strange in his +manner at all when ’e was in your place to-night?” +</p> + +<p> +“He smashed one o’ my best glasses,” ses the landlord. +</p> + +<p> +“So he did,” ses the policeman. “So he did. I’d forgot that. Do you know ’im +well?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not more than I can ’elp,” ses the landlord. “He’s been in my place a good +bit, but I never knew of any reason why ’e should try and do away with ’imself. +If he’s been disappointed in love, he ain’t told me anything about it.” +</p> + +<p> +I suppose that couple o’ fools ’ud ’ave stood there talking about me all night +if I’d ha’ let ’em, but I had about enough of it. +</p> + +<p> +“Look ’ere,” I ses, “you’re very clever, both of you, but you needn’t worry +your ’eads about me. I’ve just been having a mud-bath, that’s all.” +</p> + +<p> +“A mud-bath!” ses both of ’em, squeaking like a couple o’ silly parrots. +</p> + +<p> +“For rheumatics,” I ses. “I ’ad it some-thing cruel to-night, and I thought +that p’r’aps the mud ’ud do it good. I read about it in the papers. There’s +places where you pay pounds and pounds for ’em, but, being a pore man, I ’ad to +’ave mine on the cheap.” +</p> + +<p> +The policeman stood there looking at me for a moment, and then ’e began to +laugh till he couldn’t stop ’imself. +</p> + +<p> +“Love-a-duck!” he ses, at last, wiping his eyes. “I wish I’d seen it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Must ha’ looked like a fat mermaid,” ses the landlord, wagging his silly ’ead +at me. “I can just see old Bill sitting in the mud a-combing his ’air and +singing.” +</p> + +<p> +They ’ad some more talk o’ that sort, just to show each other ’ow funny they +was, but they went off at last, and I fastened up the gate and went into the +office to clean myself up as well as I could. One comfort was they ’adn’t got +the least idea of wot I was arter, and I ’ad a fancy that the one as laughed +last would be the one as got that twelve quid. +</p> + +<p> +I was so tired that I slept nearly all day arter I ’ad got ’ome, and I ’ad no +sooner got back to the wharf in the evening than I see that the landlord ’ad +been busy. If there was one silly fool that asked me the best way of making +mud-pies, I should think there was fifty. Little things please little minds, +and the silly way some of ’em went on made me feel sorry for my sects. +</p> + +<p> +By eight o’clock, ’owever, they ’ad all sheered off, and I got a broom and +began to sweep up to ’elp pass the time away until low-water. On’y one craft +’ad come up that day—a ketch called the Peewit—and as she was berthed at the +end of the jetty she wasn’t in my way at all. +</p> + +<p> +Her skipper came on to the wharf just afore ten. Fat, silly old man ’e was, +named Fogg. Always talking about ’is ’ealth and taking medicine to do it good. +He came up to me slow like, and, when ’e stopped and asked me about the +rheumatics, the broom shook in my ’and. +</p> + +<p> +“Look here,” I ses, “if you want to be funny, go and be funny with them as +likes it. I’m fair sick of it, so I give you warning.” +</p> + +<p> +“Funny?” he ses, staring at me with eyes like a cow. “Wot d’ye mean? There’s +nothing funny about rheumatics; I ought to know; I’m a martyr to it. Did you +find as ’ow the mud did you any good?” +</p> + +<p> +I looked at ’im hard, but ’e stood there looking at me with his fat baby-face, +and I knew he didn’t mean any harm; so I answered ’im perlite and wished ’im +good night. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve ’ad pretty near everything a man can have,” he ses, casting anchor on a +empty box, “but I think the rheumatics was about the worst of ’em all. I even +tried bees for it once.” +</p> + +<p> +“Bees!” I ses. “Bees!” +</p> + +<p> +“Bee-stings,” he ses. “A man told me that if I could on’y persuade a few bees +to sting me, that ’ud cure me. I don’t know what ’e meant by persuading! they +didn’t want no persuading. I took off my coat and shirt and went and rocked one +of my neighbour’s bee-hives next door, and I thought my last hour ’ad come.” +</p> + +<p> +He sat on that box and shivered at the memory of it. +</p> + +<p> +“Now I take Dr. Pepper’s pellets instead,” he ses. “I’ve got a box in my +state-room, and if you’d like to try ’em you’re welcome.” +</p> + +<p> +He sat there talking about the complaints he had ’ad and wot he ’ad done for +them till I thought I should never have got rid of ’im. He got up at last, +though, and, arter telling me to always wear flannel next to my skin, climbed +aboard and went below. +</p> + +<p> +I knew the hands was aboard, and arter watching ’is cabin-skylight until the +light was out, I went and undressed. Then I crept back on to the jetty, and +arter listening by the Peewit to make sure that they was all asleep, I went +back and climbed down the ladder. +</p> + +<p> +It was colder than ever. The cold seemed to get into my bones, but I made up my +mind to ’ave that twelve quid if I died for it. I trod round and round the +place where I ’ad seen that purse chucked in until I was tired, and the rubbish +I picked up by mistake you wouldn’t believe. +</p> + +<p> +I suppose I ’ad been in there arf an hour, and I was standing up with my teeth +clenched to keep them from chattering, when I ’appened to look round and see +something like a white ball coming down the ladder. My ’art seemed to stand +still for a moment, and then it began to beat as though it would burst. The +white thing came down lower and lower, and then all of a sudden it stood in the +mud and said, “Ow!” +</p> + +<p> +“Who is it?” I ses. “Who are you?” “Halloa, Bill!” it ses. “Ain’t it perishing +cold?” +</p> + +<p> +It was the voice o’ Cap’n Fogg, and if ever I wanted to kill a fellow-creetur, +I wanted to then. +</p> + +<p> +“’Ave you been in long, Bill?” he ses. “About ten minutes,” I ses, grinding my +teeth. +</p> + +<p> +“Is it doing you good?” he ses. +</p> + +<p> +I didn’t answer ’im. +</p> + +<p> +“I was just going off to sleep,” he ses, “when I felt a sort of hot pain in my +left knee. O’ course, I knew what it meant at once, and instead o’ taking some +of the pellets I thought I’d try your remedy instead. It’s a bit nippy, but I +don’t mind that if it does me good.” +</p> + +<p> +He laughed a silly sort o’ laugh, and then I’m blest if ’e didn’t sit down in +that mud and waller in it. Then he’d get up and come for’ard two or three steps +and sit down agin. +</p> + +<p> +“Ain’t you sitting down, Bill?” he ses, arter a time. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” I ses, “I’m not.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think you can expect to get the full benefit unless you do,” he ses, +coming up close to me and sitting down agin. “It’s a bit of a shock at fust, +but Halloa!” +</p> + +<p> +“Wot’s up?” I ses. +</p> + +<p> +“Sitting on something hard,” he ses. “I wish people ’ud be more careful.” +</p> + +<p> +He took a list to port and felt under the star-board side. Then he brought his +’and up and tried to wipe the mud off and see wot he ’ad got. +</p> + +<p> +“Wot is it?” I ses, with a nasty sinking sort o’ feeling inside me. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know,” he ses, going on wiping. “It’s soft outside and ’ard inside. +It——” +</p> + +<p> +“Let’s ’ave a look at it,” I ses, holding out my ’and. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s nothing,” he ses, in a queer voice, getting up and steering for the +ladder. “Bit of oyster-shell, I think.” +</p> + +<p> +He was up that ladder hand over fist, with me close behind ’im, and as soon as +he ’ad got on to the wharf started to run to ’is ship. +</p> + +<p> +“Good night, Bill,” he ses, over ’is shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +“Arf a moment.” I ses, follering ’im. +</p> + +<p> +“I must get aboard,” he ses; “I believe I’ve got a chill,” and afore I could +stop ’im he ’ad jumped on and run down to ’is cabin. +</p> + +<p> +I stood on the jetty for a minute or two, trembling all over with cold and +temper. Then I saw he ’ad got a light in ’is cabin, and I crept aboard and +peeped down the skylight. And I just ’ad time to see some sovereigns on the +table, when he looked up and blew out the light. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DEEP WATERS ***</div> +<div style='text-align:left'> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ +concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, +and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following +the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use +of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for +copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very +easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation +of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project +Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away--you may +do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected +by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark +license, especially commercial redistribution. +</div> + +<div style='margin:0.83em 0; font-size:1.1em; text-align:center'>START: FULL LICENSE<br /> +<span style='font-size:smaller'>THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE<br /> +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK</span> +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project +Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full +Project Gutenberg™ License available with this file or online at +www.gutenberg.org/license. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg™ +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or +destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in your +possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a +Project Gutenberg™ electronic work and you do not agree to be bound +by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person +or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg™ electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg™ electronic works if you follow the terms of this +agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg™ +electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the +Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection +of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. Nearly all the individual +works in the collection are in the public domain in the United +States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the +United States and you are located in the United States, we do not +claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, +displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as +all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope +that you will support the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting +free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg™ +works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the +Project Gutenberg™ name associated with the work. You can easily +comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the +same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg™ License when +you share it without charge with others. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are +in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, +check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this +agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, +distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any +other Project Gutenberg™ work. The Foundation makes no +representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any +country other than the United States. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other +immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg™ License must appear +prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg™ work (any work +on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the +phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, +performed, viewed, copied or distributed: +</div> + +<blockquote> + <div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> + This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most + other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions + whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms + of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online + at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you + are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws + of the country where you are located before using this eBook. + </div> +</blockquote> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is +derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not +contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the +copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in +the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are +redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase “Project +Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply +either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or +obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg™ +trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any +additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms +will be linked to the Project Gutenberg™ License for all works +posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the +beginning of this work. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg™ +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg™. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg™ License. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including +any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access +to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg™ work in a format +other than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official +version posted on the official Project Gutenberg™ website +(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense +to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means +of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original “Plain +Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include the +full Project Gutenberg™ License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg™ works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works +provided that: +</div> + +<div style='margin-left:0.7em;'> + <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> + • You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg™ works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed + to the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, but he has + agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project + Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid + within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are + legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty + payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project + Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in + Section 4, “Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg + Literary Archive Foundation.” + </div> + + <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> + • You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™ + License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all + copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue + all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg™ + works. + </div> + + <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> + • You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of + any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of + receipt of the work. + </div> + + <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> + • You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg™ works. + </div> +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project +Gutenberg™ electronic work or group of works on different terms than +are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing +from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of +the Project Gutenberg™ trademark. Contact the Foundation as set +forth in Section 3 below. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.F. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project +Gutenberg™ collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg™ +electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may +contain “Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate +or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other +intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or +other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or +cannot be read by your equipment. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right +of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium +with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you +with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in +lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person +or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second +opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If +the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing +without further opportunities to fix the problem. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO +OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT +LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of +damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement +violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the +agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or +limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or +unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the +remaining provisions. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in +accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the +production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™ +electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, +including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of +the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this +or any Project Gutenberg™ work, (b) alteration, modification, or +additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg™ work, and (c) any +Defect you cause. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg™ +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Project Gutenberg™ is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of +computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It +exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations +from people in all walks of life. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg™’s +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg™ collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg™ and future +generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see +Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by +U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +The Foundation’s business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, +Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up +to date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s website +and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact +</div> + +<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without widespread +public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND +DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular state +visit <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/donate/">www.gutenberg.org/donate</a>. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To +donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate +</div> + +<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg™ electronic works +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project +Gutenberg™ concept of a library of electronic works that could be +freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and +distributed Project Gutenberg™ eBooks with only a loose network of +volunteer support. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Project Gutenberg™ eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in +the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not +necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper +edition. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Most people start at our website which has the main PG search +facility: <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +This website includes information about Project Gutenberg™, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. +</div> + +</div> + +</body> + +</html> diff --git a/old/11482-h/images/001.jpg b/old/11482-h/images/001.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..f7d4ce7 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/11482-h/images/001.jpg diff --git a/old/11482-h/images/002.jpg b/old/11482-h/images/002.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..fad687e --- /dev/null +++ b/old/11482-h/images/002.jpg diff --git a/old/11482-h/images/003.jpg b/old/11482-h/images/003.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..8b9056a --- /dev/null +++ b/old/11482-h/images/003.jpg diff --git a/old/11482-h/images/004.jpg b/old/11482-h/images/004.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..f70dc9b --- /dev/null +++ b/old/11482-h/images/004.jpg diff --git a/old/11482-h/images/cover.jpg b/old/11482-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..90c40a3 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/11482-h/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/old/11482-h/images/title.jpg b/old/11482-h/images/title.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..6f25786 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/11482-h/images/title.jpg diff --git a/old/old/11482-2006-10-30.txt b/old/old/11482-2006-10-30.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a342029 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/11482-2006-10-30.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5915 @@ +Project Gutenberg's Deep Waters, The Entire Collection, by W.W. Jacobs + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net + + +Title: Deep Waters, The Entire Collection + +Author: W.W. Jacobs + +Release Date: October 30, 2006 [EBook #11482] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: US-ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DEEP WATERS, THE ENTIRE COLLECTION *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + +DEEP WATERS + +By W.W. JACOBS + + + +[Illustration: IN THE LIGHT OF THE LAMP I SAW THE DEAD WHITE FACE] + + +CONTENTS: + +SHAREHOLDERS + +PAYING OFF + +MADE TO MEASURE + +SAM'S GHOST + +BEDRIDDEN + +THE CONVERT + +HUSBANDRY + +FAMILY CARES + +THE WINTER OFFENSIVE + +THE SUBSTITUTE + +STMKING HARD + +DIRTY WORK + + + + + +SHAREHOLDERS + + +Sailor man--said the night-watchman, musingly--a sailorman is like a fish +he is safest when 'e is at sea. When a fish comes ashore it is in for +trouble, and so is sailorman. One poor chap I knew 'ardly ever came +ashore without getting married; and he was found out there was no less +than six wimmen in the court all taking away 'is character at once. And +when he spoke up Solomon the magistrate pretty near bit 'is 'ead off. + +Then look at the trouble they get in with their money! They come ashore +from a long trip, smelling of it a'most, and they go from port to port +like a lord. Everybody has got their eye on that money--everybody except +the sailorman, that is--and afore he knows wot's 'appened, and who 'as +got it, he's looking for a ship agin. When he ain't robbed of 'is money, +he wastes it; and when 'e don't do either, he loses it. + +I knew one chap who hid 'is money. He'd been away ten months, and, +knowing 'ow easy money goes, 'e made up sixteen pounds in a nice little +parcel and hid it where nobody could find it. That's wot he said, and +p'r'aps 'e was right. All I know is, he never found it. I did the same +thing myself once with a couple o' quid I ran acrost unexpected, on'y, +unfortunately for me, I hid it the day afore my missus started 'er +spring-cleaning. + +One o' the worst men I ever knew for getting into trouble when he came +ashore was old Sam Small. If he couldn't find it by 'imself, Ginger Dick +and Peter Russet would help 'im look for it. Generally speaking they +found it without straining their eyesight. + +I remember one time they was home, arter being away pretty near a year, +and when they was paid off they felt like walking gold-mines. They went +about smiling all over with good-temper and 'appiness, and for the first +three days they was like brothers. That didn't last, of course, and on +the fourth day Sam Small, arter saying wot 'e would do to Ginger and +Peter if it wasn't for the police, went off by 'imself. + +His temper passed off arter a time, and 'e began to look cheerful agin. +It was a lovely morning, and, having nothing to do and plenty in 'is +pocket to do it with, he went along like a schoolboy with a 'arf holiday. +He went as far as Stratford on the top of a tram for a mouthful o' fresh +air, and came back to his favourite coffee-shop with a fine appetite for +dinner. There was a very nice gentlemanly chap sitting opposite 'im, and +the way he begged Sam's pardon for splashing gravy over 'im made Sam take +a liking to him at once. Nicely dressed he was, with a gold pin in 'is +tie, and a fine gold watch-chain acrost his weskit; and Sam could see he +'ad been brought up well by the way he used 'is knife and fork. He kept +looking at Sam in a thoughtful kind o' way, and at last he said wot a +beautiful morning it was, and wot a fine day it must be in the country. +In a little while they began to talk like a couple of old friends, and he +told Sam all about 'is father, wot was a clergyman in the country, and +Sam talked about a father of his as was living private on three 'undred a +year. + +"Ah, money's a useful thing," ses the man. + +"It ain't everything," ses Sam. "It won't give you 'appiness. I've run +through a lot in my time, so I ought to know." + +"I expect you've got a bit left, though," ses the man, with a wink. + +Sam laughed and smacked 'is pocket. "I've got a trifle to go on with," +he ses, winking back. "I never feel comfortable without a pound or two +in my pocket." + +"You look as though you're just back from a vy'ge," ses the man, looking +at 'im very hard. + +"I am," ses Sam, nodding. "Just back arter ten months, and I'm going to +spend a bit o' money afore I sign on agin, I can tell you." + +"That's wot it was given to us for," ses the man, nodding at him. + +They both got up to go at the same time and walked out into the street +together, and, when Sam asked 'im whether he might have the pleasure of +standing 'im a drink, he said he might. He talked about the different +kinds of drink as they walked along till Sam, wot was looking for a high- +class pub, got such a raging thirst on 'im he hardly knew wot to do with +'imself. He passed several pubs, and walked on as fast as he could to +the Three Widders. + +"Do you want to go in there partikler?" ses the man, stopping at the +door. + +"No," ses Sam, staring. + +"'Cos I know a place where they sell the best glass o' port wine in +London," ses the man. + +He took Sam up two or three turnings, and then led him into a quiet +little pub in a back street. There was a cosy little saloon bar with +nobody in it, and, arter Sam had 'ad two port wines for the look of the +thing, he 'ad a pint o' six-ale because he liked it. His new pal had one +too, and he 'ad just taken a pull at it and wiped his mouth, when 'e +noticed a little bill pinned up at the back of the bar. + +"_Lost, between--the Mint and--Tower Stairs,_" he ses, leaning forward +and reading very slow, "_a gold--locket--set with--diamonds. Whoever +will--return--the same to--Mr. Smith--Orange Villa--Barnet--will receive +--thirty pounds--reward._" + +"'Ow much?" ses Sam, starting. "Thirty pounds," ses the man. "Must be a +good locket. Where'd you get that?" he ses, turning to the barmaid. + +"Gentleman came in an hour ago," ses the gal, "and, arter he had 'ad two +or three drinks with the guv'nor, he asks 'im to stick it up. 'Arf +crying he was--said 'it 'ad belonged to his old woman wot died." + +She went off to serve a customer at the other end of the bar wot was +making little dents in it with his pot, and the man came back and sat +down by Sam agin, and began to talk about horse-racing. At least, he +tried to, but Sam couldn't talk of nothing but that locket, and wot a +nice steady sailorman could do with thirty pounds. + +"Well, p'r'aps you'll find it," ses the man, chaffing-like. "'Ave +another pint." + +Sam had one, but it only made 'im more solemn, and he got in quite a +temper as 'e spoke about casuals loafing about on Tower Hill with their +'ands in their pockets, and taking gold lockets out of the mouths of +hard-working sailormen. + +"It mightn't be found yet," ses the man, speaking thoughtful-like. "It's +wonderful how long a thing'll lay sometimes. Wot about going and 'aving +a look for it?" + +Sam shook his 'ead at fust, but arter turning the thing over in his mind, +and 'aving another look at the bill, and copying down the name and +address for luck, 'e said p'r'aps they might as well walk that way as +anywhere else. + +"Something seems to tell me we've got a chance," ses the man, as they +stepped outside. + + +"It's a funny feeling and I can't explain it, but it always means good +luck. Last time I had it an aunt o' mine swallered 'er false teeth and +left me five 'undred pounds." + +"There's aunts and aunts," ses Sam, grunting. "I 'ad one once, but if +she had swallered 'er teeth she'd ha' been round to me to help 'er buy +some new ones. That's the sort she was." + +"Mind!" ses the man, patting 'im on the shoulder, "if we do find this, I +don't want any of it. I've got all I want. It's all for you." + +They went on like a couple o' brothers arter that, especially Sam, and +when they got to the Mint they walked along slow down Tower Hill looking +for the locket. It was awkward work, because, if people saw them looking +about, they'd 'ave started looking too, and twice Sam nearly fell over +owing to walking like a man with a stiff neck and squinting down both +sides of his nose at once. When they got as far as the Stairs they came +back on the other side of the road, and they 'ad turned to go back agin +when a docker-looking chap stopped Sam's friend and spoke to 'im. + +"I've got no change, my man," ses Sam's pal, pushing past him. + +"I ain't begging, guv'nor," ses the chap, follering 'im up. "I'm trying +to sell some-thing." + +"Wot is it?" ses the other, stopping. + +The man looked up and down the street, and then he put his 'ead near them +and whispered. + +"Eh?" ses Sam's pal. + +"Something I picked up," ses the man, still a-whispering. + +Sam got a pinch on the arm from 'is pal that nearly made him scream, then +they both stood still, staring at the docker. + +"Wot is it?" ses Sam, at last. + +The docker looked over his shoulder agin, and then 'e put his 'and in his +trouser-pocket and just showed 'em a big, fat gold locket with diamonds +stuck all over it. Then he shoved it back in 'is pocket, while Sam's pal +was giving 'im a pinch worse than wot the other was. + +"It's the one," he ses, in a whisper. "Let's 'ave another look at it," +he ses to the docker. + +The man fished it out of his pocket agin, and held on to it tight while +they looked at it. + +"Where did you find it?" ses Sam. + +"Found it over there, just by the Mint," ses the man, pointing. + +[Illustration: "FOUND IT OVER THERE, JUST BY THE MINT," SES THE MAN, +POINTING.] + +"Wot d'ye want for it?" ses Sam's pal. + +"As much as I can get," ses the man. "I don't quite know 'ow much it's +worth, that's the worst of it. Wot d'ye say to twenty pounds, and chance +it?" + +Sam laughed--the sort of laugh a pal 'ad once give him a black eye for. + +"Twenty pounds!" he ses; "twenty pounds! 'Ave you gorn out of your mind, +or wot? I'll give you a couple of quid for it." + +"Well, it's all right, captin," ses the man, "there's no 'arm done. I'll +try somebody else--or p'r'aps there'll be a big reward for it. I don't +believe it was bought for a 'undred pounds." + +He was just sheering off when Sam's pal caught 'im by the arm and asked +him to let 'im have another look at it. Then he came back to Sam and led +'im a little way off, whispering to 'im that it was the chance of a +life time. + +"And if you prefer to keep it for a little while and then sell it, +instead of getting the reward for it, I dare say it would be worth a +hundred pounds to you," 'e ses. + +"I ain't got twenty pounds," ses Sam. + +"'Ow much 'ave you got?" ses his pal. + +Sam felt in 'is pockets, and the docker came up and stood watching while +he counted it. Altogether it was nine pounds fourteen shillings and +tuppence. + +"P'r'aps you've got some more at 'ome," ses his pal. + +"Not a farthing," ses Sam, which was true as far as the farthing went. + +"Or p'r'aps you could borrer some," ses his pal, in a soft, kind voice. +"I'd lend it to you with pleasure, on'y I haven't got it with me." + +Sam shook his 'ead, and at last, arter the docker 'ad said he wouldn't +let it go for less than twenty, even to save 'is life, he let it go for +the nine pounds odd, a silver watch-chain, two cigars wot Sam 'ad been +sitting on by mistake, and a sheath-knife. + +"Shove it in your pocket and don't let a soul see it," ses the man, +handing over the locket. "I might as well give it away a'most. But it +can't be 'elped." + +He went off up the 'ill shaking his 'ead, and Sam's pal, arter watching +him for a few seconds, said good-bye in a hurry and went off arter 'im to +tell him to keep 'is mouth shut about it. + +Sam walked back to his lodgings on air, as the saying is, and even did a +little bit of a skirt-dance to a pianner-organ wot was playing. Peter +and Ginger was out, and so was his land-lady, a respectable woman as was +minding the rest of 'is money for him, and when he asked 'er little gal, +a kid of eleven, to trust 'im for some tin she gave 'im a lecture on +wasting his money instead wot took 'is breath away--all but a word or two. + +He got some of 'is money from his landlady at eight o'clock, arter +listening to 'er for 'arf an hour, and then he 'ad to pick it up off of +the floor, and say "Thank you" for it. + +He went to bed afore Ginger and Peter came in, but 'e was so excited he +couldn't sleep, and long arter they was in bed he laid there and thought +of all the different ways of spending a 'undred pounds. He kept taking +the locket from under 'is piller and feeling it; then he felt 'e must +'ave another look at it, and arter coughing 'ard two or three times and +calling out to the other two not to snore--to see if they was awake--he +got out o' bed and lit the candle. Ginger and Peter was both fast +asleep, with their eyes screwed up and their mouths wide open, and 'e sat +on the bed and looked at the locket until he was a'most dazzled. + +"'Ullo, Sam!" ses a voice. "Wot 'ave you got there?" + +Sam nearly fell off the bed with surprise and temper. Then 'e hid the +locket in his 'and and blew out the candle. + +"Who gave it to you?" ses Ginger. + +"You get off to sleep, and mind your own bisness," ses Sam, grinding 'is +teeth. + +He got back into bed agin and laid there listening to Ginger waking up +Peter. Peter woke up disagreeable, but when Ginger told 'im that Sam 'ad +stole a gold locket as big as a saucer, covered with diamonds, he altered +'is mind. + +"Let's 'ave a look at it," he ses, sitting up. + +"Ginger's dreaming," ses Sam, in a shaky voice. "I ain't got no locket. +Wot d'you think I want a locket for?" + +Ginger got out o' bed and lit the candle agin. "Come on!" he ses, "let's +'ave a look at it. I wasn't dreaming. I've been awake all the time, +watching you." + +Sam shut 'is eyes and turned his back to them. + +"He's gone to sleep, pore old chap," ses Ginger. "We'll 'ave a look at +it without waking 'im. You take that side, Peter! Mind you don't +disturb 'im." + +He put his 'and in under the bed-clo'es and felt all up and down Sam's +back, very careful. Sam stood it for 'arf a minute, and then 'e sat up +in bed and behaved more like a windmill than a man. + +"Hold his 'ands," ses Ginger. + +"Hold 'em yourself," ses Peter, dabbing 'is nose with his shirt-sleeve. + +"Well, we're going to see it," ses Ginger, "if we have to make enough +noise to rouse the 'ouse. Fust of all we're going to ask you perlite; +then we shall get louder and louder. _Show us the locket wot you stole, +Sam!_" + +"Show--us--the--diamond locket!" ses Peter. + +"It's my turn, Peter," ses Ginger. "One, two, three. SHOW--US--TH'----" + +"Shut up," ses Sam, trembling all over. "I'll show it to you if you stop +your noise." + +He put his 'and under his piller, but afore he showed it to 'em he sat up +in bed and made 'em a little speech. He said 'e never wanted to see +their faces agin as long as he lived, and why Ginger's mother 'adn't put +'im in a pail o' cold water when 'e was born 'e couldn't understand. He +said 'e didn't believe that even a mother could love a baby that looked +like a cod-fish with red 'air, and as for Peter Russet, 'e believed his +mother died of fright. + +"That'll do," ses Ginger, as Sam stopped to get 'is breath. "Are you +going to show us the locket, or 'ave we got to shout agin?" + +Sam swallered something that nearly choked 'im, and then he opened his +'and and showed it to them. Peter told 'im to wave it so as they could +see the diamonds flash, and then Ginger waved the candle to see 'ow they +looked that way, and pretty near set pore Sam's whiskers on fire. + +They didn't leave 'im alone till they knew as much about it as he could +tell 'em, and they both of 'em told 'im that if he took a reward of +thirty pounds for it, instead of selling it for a 'undred, he was a +bigger fool than he looked. + +"I shall turn it over in my mind," ses Sam, sucking 'is teeth. "When I +want your advice I'll ask you for it." + +"We wasn't thinking of you," ses Ginger; "we was thinking of ourselves." + +"You!" ses Sam, with a bit of a start. "Wot's it got to do with you?" + +"Our share'll be bigger, that's all," ses Ginger. + +"Much bigger," ses Peter. "I couldn't dream of letting it go at thirty. +It's chucking money away. Why, we might get _two_ 'undred for it. Who +knows?" + +Sam sat on the edge of 'is bed like a man in a dream, then 'e began to +make a noise like a cat with a fish-bone in its throat, and then 'e stood +up and let fly. + +"Don't stop 'im, Peter," ses Ginger. "Let 'im go on; it'll do him good." + +"He's forgot all about that penknife you picked up and went shares in," +ses Peter. "I wouldn't be mean for _twenty_ lockets." + +"Nor me neither," ses Ginger. "But we won't let 'im be mean--for 'is own +sake. We'll 'ave our rights." + +"Rights!" ses Sam. "Rights! You didn't find it." + +"We always go shares if we find anything," ses Ginger. "Where's your +memory, Sam?" "But I didn't find it," ses Sam. + +"No, you bought it," ses Peter, "and if you don't go shares we'll split +on you--see? Then you can't sell it anyway, and perhaps you won't even +get the reward. We can be at Orange Villa as soon as wot you can." + +"Sooner," ses Ginger, nodding. "But there's no need to do that. If 'e +don't go shares I'll slip round to the police-station fust thing in the +morning." + +"You know the way there all right," ses Sam, very bitter. + +"And we don't want none o' your back-answers," ses Ginger. "Are you +going shares or not?" + +"Wot about the money I paid for it?" ses Sam, "and my trouble?" + +Ginger and Peter sat down on the bed to talk it over, and at last, arter +calling themselves a lot o' bad names for being too kind-'earted, they +offered 'im five pounds each for their share in the locket. + +"And that means you've got your share for next to nothing, Sam," ses +Ginger. + +"Some people wouldn't 'ave given you any-thing," ses Peter. + +Sam gave way at last, and then 'e stood by making nasty remarks while +Ginger wrote out a paper for them all to sign, because he said he had +known Sam such a long time. + +It was a'most daylight afore they got to sleep, and the fust thing Ginger +did when he woke was to wake Sam up, and offer to shake 'ands with him. +The noise woke Peter up, and, as Sam wouldn't shake 'ands with 'im +either, they both patted him on the back instead. + +They made him take 'em to the little pub, arter breakfast, to read the +bill about the reward. Sam didn't mind going, as it 'appened, as he +'oped to meet 'is new pal there and tell 'im his troubles, but, though +they stayed there some time, 'e didn't turn up. He wasn't at the +coffee-shop for dinner, neither. + +Peter and Ginger was in 'igh spirits, and, though Sam told 'em plain that +he would sooner walk about with a couple of real pickpockets, they +wouldn't leave 'im an inch. + +"Anybody could steal it off of you, Sam," ses Ginger, patting 'im on the +weskit to make sure the locket was still there. "It's a good job you've +got us to look arter you." + +"We must buy 'im a money-belt with a pocket in it," ses Peter. + +Ginger nodded at 'im. "Yes," he ses, "that would be safer. And he'd +better wear it next to 'is skin, with everything over it. I should feel +more comfortable then." + +"And wot about me?" says Sam, turning on 'im. + +"Well, we'll take it in turns," ses Ginger. "You one day, and then me, +and then Peter." + +Sam gave way at last, as arter all he could see it was the safest thing +to do, but he 'ad so much to say about it that they got fair sick of the +sound of 'is voice. They 'ad to go 'ome for 'im to put the belt on; and +then at seven o'clock in the evening, arter Sam had 'ad two or three +pints, they had to go 'ome agin, 'cos he was complaining of tight-lacing. + +Ginger had it on next day and he went 'ome five times. The other two +went with 'im in case he lost 'imself, and stood there making nasty +remarks while he messed 'imself up with a penn'orth of cold cream. It +was a cheap belt, and pore Ginger said that, when they 'ad done with it, +it would come in handy for sand-paper. + +Peter didn't like it any better than the other two did, and twice they +'ad to speak to 'im about stopping in the street and trying to make +'imself more comfortable by wriggling. Sam said people misunderstood it. + +Arter that they agreed to wear it outside their shirt, and even then +Ginger said it scratched 'im. And every day they got more and more +worried about wot was the best thing to do with the locket, and whether +it would be safe to try and sell it. The idea o' walking about with a +fortune in their pockets that they couldn't spend a'most drove 'em crazy. + +"The longer we keep it, the safer it'll be," ses Sam, as they was walking +down Hounds-ditch one day. + +"We'll sell it when I'm sixty," ses Ginger, nasty-like. + +"Then old Sam won't be 'ere to have 'is share," ses Peter. + +Sam was just going to answer 'em back, when he stopped and began to smile +instead. Straight in front of 'im was the gentleman he 'ad met in the +coffee-shop, coming along with another man, and he just 'ad time to see +that it was the docker who 'ad sold him the locket, when they both saw +'im. They turned like a flash, and, afore Sam could get 'is breath, +bolted up a little alley and disappeared. + +"Wot's the row?" ses Ginger, staring. + +Sam didn't answer 'im. He stood there struck all of a heap. + +"Do you know 'em?" ses Peter. + +Sam couldn't answer 'im for a time. He was doing a bit of 'ard thinking. + +"Chap I 'ad a row with the other night," he ses, at last. + +He walked on very thoughtful, and the more 'e thought, the less 'e liked +it. He was so pale that Ginger thought 'e was ill and advised 'im to +'ave a drop o' brandy. Peter recommended rum, so to please 'em he 'ad +both. It brought 'is colour back, but not 'is cheerfulness. + +He gave 'em both the slip next morning; which was easy, as Ginger was +wearing the locket, and, arter fust 'aving a long ride for nothing owing +to getting in the wrong train, he got to Barnet. + +It was a big place; big enough to 'ave a dozen Orange Villas, but pore +Sam couldn't find one. It wasn't for want of trying neither. + +He asked at over twenty shops, and the post-office, and even went to the +police-station. He must ha' walked six or seven miles looking for it, +and at last, 'arf ready to drop, 'e took the train back. + +He 'ad some sausages and mashed potatoes with a pint o' stout at a place +in Bishopsgate, and then 'e started to walk 'ome. The only comfort he +'ad was the thought of the ten pounds Ginger and Peter 'ad paid 'im; and +when he remembered that he began to cheer up and even smile. By the time +he got 'ome 'e was beaming all over 'is face. + +"Where've you been?" ses Ginger. + +"Enjoying myself by myself," ses Sam. + +"Please yourself," ses Peter, very severe, "but where'd you ha' been if +we 'ad sold the locket and skipped, eh?" + +"You wouldn't 'ave enjoyed yourself by yourself then," ses Ginger. "Yes, +you may laugh!" + +Sam didn't answer 'im, but he sat down on 'is bed and 'is shoulders shook +till Ginger lost his temper and gave him a couple o' thumps on the back +that pretty near broke it. + +"All right," ses Sam, very firm. "Now you 'ave done for yourselves. I +'ad a'most made up my mind to go shares; now you sha'n't 'ave a +ha'penny." + +Ginger laughed then. "Ho!" he ses, "and 'ow are you going to prevent +it?" + +"We've got the locket, Sam," ses Peter, smiling and shaking his 'ead at +'im. + +"And we'll mind it till it's sold," ses Ginger. + +Sam laughed agin, short and nasty. Then he undressed 'imself very slow +and got into bed. At twelve o'clock, just as Ginger was dropping off, he +began to laugh agin, and 'e only stopped when 'e heard Ginger getting out +of bed to 'im. + +He stayed in bed next morning, 'cos he said 'is sides was aching, but 'e +laughed agin as they was going out, and when they came back he 'ad gorn. + +We never know 'ow much we' like anything till we lose it. A week +arterwards, as Ginger was being 'elped out of a pawnshop by Peter, he +said 'e would give all he 'adn't got for the locket to be near enough to +Sam to hear 'im laugh agin. + + + + +PAYING OFF + +My biggest fault, said the night-watchman, gloomily, has been good +nature. I've spent the best part of my life trying to do my fellow- +creeturs a good turn. And what do I get for it? If all the people I've +helped was to come 'ere now there wouldn't be standing room for them on +this wharf. 'Arf of them would be pushed overboard--and a good place for +'em, too. + +I've been like it all my life. I was good-natured enough to go to sea as +a boy because a skipper took a fancy to me and wanted my 'elp, and when I +got older I was good-natured enough to get married. All my life I've +given 'elp and advice free, and only a day or two ago one of 'em wot I +'ad given it to came round here with her 'usband and 'er two brothers and +'er mother and two or three people from the same street, to see her give +me "wot for." + +Another fault o' mine has been being sharp. Most people make mistakes, +and they can't bear to see anybody as don't. Over and over agin I have +showed people 'ow silly they 'ave been to do certain things, and told 'em +wot I should ha' done in their place, but I can't remember one that ever +gave me a "thank you" for it. + +There was a man 'ere 'arf an hour ago that reminded me of both of these +faults. He came in a-purpose to remind me, and 'e brought a couple o' +grinning, brass-faced monkeys with 'im to see 'im do it. I was sitting +on that barrel when he came, and arter two minutes I felt as if I was +sitting on red-'ot cinders. He purtended he 'ad come in for the sake of +old times and to ask arter my 'ealth, and all the time he was doing 'is +best to upset me to amuse them two pore objecks 'e 'ad brought with 'im. + +Capt'in Mellun is his name, and 'e was always a foolish, soft-'eaded sort +o' man, and how he 'as kept 'is job I can't think. He used to trade +between this wharf and Bristol on a little schooner called the _Firefly_, +and seeing wot a silly, foolish kind o' man he was, I took a little bit +o' notice of 'im. Many and many a time when 'e was going to do something +he'd ha' been sorry for arterwards I 'ave taken 'im round to the Bear's +Head and stood 'im pint arter pint until he began to see reason and own +up that I was in the right. + +His crew was a'most as bad as wot he was, and all in one month one o' the +'ands gave a man ten shillings for a di'mond ring he saw 'im pick up, wot +turned out to be worth fourpence, and another one gave five bob for a +meerschaum pipe made o' chalk. When I pointed out to 'em wot fools they +was they didn't like it, and a week arterwards, when the skipper gave a +man in a pub 'is watch and chain and two pounds to hold, to show 'is +confidence in 'im, and I told 'im exactly wot I thought of him, 'e didn't +like it. + +"You're too sharp, Bill," he says, sneering like. "My opinion is that +the pore man was run over. He told me 'e should only be away five +minutes. And he 'ad got an honest face: nice open blue eyes, and a smile +that done you good to look at." + +"You've been swindled," I ses, "and you know it. If I'd been done like +that I should never hold up my 'ead agin. Why, a child o' five would +know better. You and your crew all seem to be tarred with the same +brush. You ain't fit to be trusted out alone." + +I believe 'e told his 'ands wot I said; anyway, two bits o' coke missed +me by 'arf an inch next evening, and for some weeks not one of 'em spoke +a word to me. When they see me coming they just used to stand up +straight and twist their nose. + +It didn't 'urt me, o' course. I took no notice of 'em. Even when one of +'em fell over the broom I was sweeping with I took no notice of 'im. I +just went on with my work as if 'e wasn't there. + +I suppose they 'ad been in the sulks about a month, and I was sitting +'ere one evening getting my breath arter a couple o' hours' 'ard work, +when one of 'em, George Tebb by name, came off the ship and nodded to me +as he passed. + +"Evening, Bill," he ses. + +"Evening," I ses, rather stiff. + +"I wanted a word with you, Bill," he ses, in a low voice. "In fact, I +might go so far as to say I want to ask you to do me a favour." + +I looked at him so 'ard that he coughed and looked away. + +"We might talk about it over a 'arf-pint," he ses. + +"No, thank you," I ses. "I 'ad a 'arf-pint the day before yesterday, and +I'm not thirsty." + +He stood there fidgeting about for a bit, and then he puts his 'and on my +shoulder. + +"Well, come to the end of the jetty," he ses. "I've got something +private to say." + +I got up slow-like and followed 'im. I wasn't a bit curious. Not a bit. +But if a man asks for my 'elp I always give it. + +"It's like this," he ses, looking round careful, "only I don't want the +other chaps to hear because I don't want to be laughed at. Last week an +old uncle o' mine died and left me thirty pounds. It's just a week ago, +and I've already got through five of 'em, and besides that the number of +chaps that want to borrow ten bob for a couple o' days would surprise +you." + +"I ain't so easy surprised," I ses, shaking my 'ead. + +"It ain't safe with me," he ses; "and the favour I want you to do is to +take care of it for me. I know it'll go if I keep it. I've got it +locked up in this box. And if you keep the box I'll keep the key, and +when I want a bit I'll come and see you about it." + +He pulled a little box out of 'is pocket and rattled it in my ear. + +"There's five-and-twenty golden goblins in there," he ses. "If you take +charge of 'em they'll be all right. If you don't, I'm pretty certain I +sha'n't 'ave one of 'em in a week or two's time." + +At fust I said I wouldn't 'ave anything to do with it, but he begged so +'ard that I began to alter my mind. + +"You're as honest as daylight, Bill," he ses, very earnest. "I don't +know another man in the world I could trust with twenty-five quid-- +especially myself. Now, put it in your pocket and look arter it for me. +One of the quids in it is for you, for your trouble." + +He slipped the box in my coat-pocket, and then he said 'is mind was so +relieved that 'e felt like 'arf a pint. I was for going to the Bear's +Head, the place I generally go to, because it is next door to the wharf, +so to speak, but George wanted me to try the beer at another place he +knew of. + +"The wharf's all right," he ses. "There's one or two 'ands on the ship, +and they won't let anybody run away with it." + +From wot he said I thought the pub was quite close, but instead o' that I +should think we walked pretty nearly a mile afore we got there. Nice +snug place it was, and the beer was all right, although, as I told George +Tebb, it didn't seem to me any better than the stuff at the Bear's Head. + +He stood me two 'arf-pints and was just going to order another, when 'e +found 'e 'adn't got any money left, and he wouldn't hear of me paying for +it, because 'e said it was his treat. + +"We'll 'ave a quid out o' the box," he ses. "I must 'ave one to go on +with, anyway." I shook my 'ead at 'im. + +"Only one," he ses, "and that'll last me a fortnight. Besides, I want to +give you the quid I promised you." + +I gave way at last, and he put his 'and in 'is trouser-pocket for the +key, and then found it wasn't there. + +"I must ha' left it in my chest," he ses. "I'll 'op back and get it." +And afore I could prevent 'im he 'ad waved his 'and at me and gorn. + +My fust idea was to go arter 'im, but I knew I couldn't catch 'im, and if +I tried to meet 'im coming back I should most likely miss 'im through the +side streets. So I sat there with my pipe and waited. + +I suppose I 'ad been sitting down waiting for him for about ten minutes, +when a couple o' sailormen came into the bar and began to make themselves +a nuisance. Big fat chaps they was, and both of 'em more than 'arf +sprung. And arter calling for a pint apiece they began to take a little +notice of me. + +"Where d'you come from?" ses one of 'em. "'Ome," I ses, very quiet. + +"It's a good place--'ome," ses the chap, shaking his 'ead. "Can you sing +''Ome, Sweet 'Ome'? You seem to 'ave got wot I might call a 'singing +face.'" + +"Never mind about my face," I ses, very sharp. "You mind wot you're +doing with that beer. You'll 'ave it over in a minute." + +The words was 'ardly out of my mouth afore 'e gave a lurch and spilt his +pint all over me. From 'ead to foot I was dripping with beer, and I was +in such a temper I wonder I didn't murder 'im; but afore I could move +they both pulled out their pocket-'ankerchers and started to rub me down. + +"That'll do," I ses at last, arter they 'ad walked round me 'arf-a-dozen +times and patted me all over to see if I was dry. "You get off while +you're safe." + +"It was my mistake, mate," ses the chap who 'ad spilt the beer. + +"You get outside," I ses. "Go on, both of you, afore I put you out." + +They gave one look at me, standing there with my fists clenched, and then +they went out like lambs, and I 'eard 'em trot round the corner as though +they was afraid I was following. I felt a little bit damp and chilly, +but beer is like sea-water--you don't catch cold through it--and I sat +down agin to wait for George Tebb. + +He came in smiling and out 'o breath in about ten minutes' time, with the +key in 'is 'and, and as soon as I told 'im wot had 'appened to me with +the beer he turned to the landlord and ordered me six o' rum 'ot at once. + +"Drink that up," he ses, 'anding it to me; "but fust of all give me the +box, so as I can pay for it." + +I put my 'and in my pocket. Then I put it in the other one, and arter +that I stood staring at George Tebb and shaking all over. + +"Wot's the matter? Wot are you looking like that for?" he ses. + +"It must ha' been them two," I ses, choking. "While they was purtending +to dry me and patting me all over they must 'ave taken it out of my +pocket." + +"Wot are you talking about?" ses George, staring at me. + +"The box 'as gorn," I ses, putting down the 'ot rum and feeling in my +trouser-pocket. "The box 'as gorn, and them two must 'ave taken it." + +"Gorn!" ses George. "Gorn! My box with twenty-five pounds in, wot I +trusted you with, gorn? Wot are you talking about? It can't be--it's +too crool!" + +He made such a noise that the landlord wot was waiting for 'is money, +asked 'im wot he meant by it, and, arter he 'ad explained, I'm blest if +the landlord didn't advise him to search me. I stood still and let +George go through my pockets, and then I told 'im I 'ad done with 'im and +I never wanted to see 'im agin as long as I lived. + +"I dare say," ses George, "I dare say. But you'll come along with me to +the wharf and see the skipper. I'm not going to lose five-and-twenty +quid through your carelessness." + +I marched along in front of 'im with my 'ead in the air, and when he +spoke to me I didn't answer him. He went aboard the ship when we got to +the wharf, and a minute or two arterwards 'e came to the side and said +the skipper wanted to see me. + +The airs the skipper gave 'imself was sickening. He sat down there in +'is miserable little rat-'ole of a cabin and acted as if 'e was a judge +and I was a prisoner. Most of the 'ands 'ad squeezed in there too, and +the things they advised George to do to me was remarkable. + +"Silence!" ses the skipper. "Now, watchman, tell me exactly 'ow this +thing 'appened." + +"I've told you once," I ses. + +"I know," ses the skipper, "but I want you to tell me again to see if you +contradict yourself. I can't understand 'ow such a clever man as you +could be done so easy." + +I thought I should ha' bust, but I kept my face wonderful. I just asked +'im wot the men was like that got off with 'is watch and chain and two +pounds, in case they might be the same. + +"That's different," he ses. + +"Oh!" ses I. "'Ow?" + +"I lost my own property," he ses, "but you lost George's, and 'ow a man +like you, that's so much sharper and cleverer than other people, could be +had so easy, I can't think. Why, a child of five would ha' known +better." + +"A baby in arms would ha' known better," ses the man wot 'ad bought the +di'mond ring. "'Ow could you 'ave been so silly, Bill? At your time o' +life, too!" + +"That's neither 'ere nor there," ses the skip-per. "The watchman has +lost twenty-five quid belonging to one o' my men. The question is, wot +is he going to do about it?" + +"Nothing," I ses. "I didn't ask 'im to let me mind the box. He done it +of 'is own free will. It's got nothing to do with me." + +"Oh, hasn't it?" ses the skipper, drawing 'imself up. "I don't want to +be too 'ard on you, but at the same time I can't let my man suffer. I'll +make it as easy as I can, and I order you to pay 'im five shillings a +week till the twenty-five pounds is cleared off." + +I laughed; I couldn't 'elp it. I just stood there and laughed at 'im. + +"If you don't," ses the skipper, "then I shall lay the facts of the case +afore the guv'nor. Whether he'll object to you being in a pub a mile +away, taking care of a box of gold while you was supposed to be taking +care of the wharf, is his bisness. My bisness is to see that my man 'as +'is rights." + +"'Ear, 'ear !" ses the crew. + +"You please yourself, watchman," ses the skipper. "You're such a clever +man that no doubt you could get a better job to-morrow. There must be +'eaps of people wanting a man like you. It's for you to decide. That's +all I've got to say--five bob a week till pore George 'as got 'is money +back, or else I put the case afore the guv'nor. Wot did you say?" + +I said it agin, and, as 'e didn't seem to understand, I said it once +more. + +"Please yourself," 'e ses, when I 'ad finished. "You're an old man, and +five bob a week can't be much loss to you. You've got nothing to spend +it on, at your time o' life. And you've got a very soft job 'ere. Wot?" + +I didn't answer 'im. I just turned round, and, arter giving a man wot +stood in my way a punch in the chest, I got up on deck and on to the +wharf, and said my little say all alone to myself, behind the crane. + +I paid the fust five bob to George Tebb the next time the ship was up, +and arter biting 'em over and over agin and then ringing 'em on the +deck 'e took the other chaps round to the Bear's Head. + +"P'r'aps it's just as well it's 'appened," he ses. "Five bob a week for +nearly two years ain't to be sneezed at. It's slow, but it's sure." + +I thought 'e was joking at fust, but arter working it out in the office +with a bit o' pencil and paper I thought I should ha' gorn crazy. And +when I complained about the time to George 'e said I could make it +shorter if I liked by paying ten bob a week, but 'e thought the steady +five bob a week was best for both of us. + +I got to 'ate the sight of 'im. Every week regular as clockwork he used +to come round to me with his 'and out, and then go and treat 'is mates to +beer with my money. If the ship came up in the day-time, at six o'clock +in the evening he'd be at the wharf gate waiting for me; and if it came +up at night she was no sooner made fast than 'e was over the side patting +my trouser-pocket and saying wot a good job it was for both of us that I +was in steady employment. + +Week arter week and month arter month I went on paying. I a'most forgot +the taste o' beer, and if I could manage to get a screw o' baccy a week I +thought myself lucky. And at last, just as I thought I couldn't stand it +any longer, the end came. + +I 'ad just given George 'is week's money--and 'ow I got it together that +week I don't know--when one o' the chaps came up and said the skipper +wanted to see me on board at once. + +"Tell 'im if he wants to see me I'm to be found on the wharf," I ses, +very sharp. + +"He wants to see you about George's money," ses the chap. "I should go +if I was you. My opinion is he wants to do you a good turn." + +I 'ung fire for a bit, and then, arter sweeping up for a little while +deliberate-like, I put down my broom and stepped aboard to see the +skipper, wot was sitting on the cabin skylight purtending to read a +newspaper. + +He put it down when 'e see me, and George and the others, wot 'ad been +standing in a little bunch for'ard, came aft and stood looking on. + +"I wanted to see you about this money, watchman," ses the skipper, +putting on 'is beastly frills agin. "O' course, we all feel that to a +pore man like you it's a bit of a strain, and, as George ses, arter all +you have been more foolish than wicked." + +"Much more," ses George. + +"I find that you 'ave now paid five bob a week for nineteen weeks," ses +the skipper, "and George 'as been kind enough and generous enough to let +you off the rest. There's no need for you to look bashful, George; it's +a credit to you." + +I could 'ardly believe my ears. George stood there grinning like a stuck +fool, and two o' the chaps was on their best behaviour with their 'ands +over their mouths and their eyes sticking out. + +"That's all, watchman," ses the skipper; "and I 'ope it'll be a lesson to +you not to neglect your dooty by going into public-'ouses and taking +charge of other people's money when you ain't fit for it." + +"I sha'n't try to do anybody else a kindness agin, if that's wot you +mean," I ses, looking at 'im. + +"No, you'd better not," he ses. "This partickler bit o' kindness 'as +cost you four pounds fifteen, and that's a curious thing when you come to +think of it. Very curious." + +"Wot d'ye mean?" I ses. + +"Why," he ses, grinning like a madman, "it's just wot we lost between us. +I lost a watch and chain worth two pounds, and another couple o' pounds +besides; Joe lost ten shillings over 'is di'mond ring; and Charlie lost +five bob over a pipe. 'That's four pounds fifteen--just the same as +you." + +Them silly fools stood there choking and sobbing and patting each other +on the back as though they'd never leave off, and all of a sudden I 'ad a +'orrible suspicion that I 'ad been done. + +"Did you see the sovereigns in the box?" I ses, turning to the skipper. + +"No," he ses, shaking his 'ead. + +"'Ow do you know they was there, then?" ses I. + +"Because you took charge of 'em," said the skipper; "and I know wot a +clever, sharp chap you are. It stands to reason that you wouldn't be +responsible for a box like that unless you saw inside of it. Why, a +child o' five wouldn't!" + +I stood there looking at 'im, but he couldn't meet my eye. None of 'em +could; and arter waiting there for a minute or two to give 'em a chance, +I turned my back on 'em and went off to my dooty. + + + + +MADE TO MEASURE + +Mr. Mott brought his niece home from the station with considerable pride. +Although he had received a photograph to assist identification, he had +been very dubious about accosting the pretty, well-dressed girl who had +stepped from the train and gazed around with dove-like eyes in search of +him. Now he was comfortably conscious of the admiring gaze of his +younger fellow-townsmen. + +"You'll find it a bit dull after London, I expect," he remarked, as he +inserted his key in the door of a small house in a quiet street. + +"I'm tired of London," said Miss Garland. "I think this is a beautiful +little old town--so peaceful." + +Mr. Mott looked gratified. + +"I hope you'll stay a long time," he said, as he led the way into the +small front room. "I'm a lonely old man." + +His niece sank into an easy chair, and looked about her. + +"Thank you," she said, slowly. "I hope I shall. I feel better already. +There is so much to upset one in London." + +"Noise?" queried Mr. Mott. + +"And other things," said Miss Garland, with a slight shudder. + +Mr. Mott sighed in sympathy with the unknown, and, judging by his niece's +expression, the unknowable. He rearranged the teacups, and, going to the +kitchen, returned in a few minutes with a pot of tea. + +"Mrs. Pett leaves at three," he said, in explanation, "to look after her +children, but she comes back again at eight to look after my supper. And +how is your mother?" + +Miss Garland told him. + +"Last letter I had from her," said Mr. Mott, stealing a glance at the +girl's ring-finger, "I understood you were engaged." + +His niece drew herself up. + +"Certainly not," she said, with considerable vigour. "I have seen too +much of married life. I prefer my freedom. Besides, I don't like men." + +Mr. Mott said modestly that he didn't wonder at it, and, finding the +subject uncongenial, turned the conversation on to worthier subjects. +Miss Garland's taste, it seemed, lay in the direction of hospital +nursing, or some other occupation beneficial to mankind at large. Simple +and demure, she filled the simpler Mr. Mott with a strong sense of the +shortcomings of his unworthy sex. + +Within two days, under the darkling glance of Mrs. Pett, she had altered +the arrangements of the house. Flowers appeared on the meal-table, +knives and forks were properly cleaned, and plates no longer appeared +ornamented with the mustard of a previous meal. Fresh air circulated +through the house, and, passing from Mrs. Pett's left knee to the lumbar +region of Mr. Mott, went on its beneficent way rejoicing. + +On the fifth day of her visit, Mr. Mott sat alone in the front parlour. +The window was closed, the door was closed, and Mr. Mott, sitting in an +easy chair with his feet up, was aroused from a sound nap by the door +opening to admit a young man, who, deserted by Mrs. Pett, stood bowing +awkwardly in the doorway. + +"Is Miss Garland in?" he stammered. + +Mr. Mott rubbed the remnants of sleep from his eyelids. + +"She has gone for a walk," he said, slowly. + +The young man stood fingering his hat. + +"My name is Hurst," he said, with slight emphasis. "Mr. Alfred Hurst." + +Mr. Mott, still somewhat confused, murmured that he was glad to hear it. + +"I have come from London to see Florrie," continued the intruder. "I +suppose she won't be long?" + +Mr. Mott thought not, and after a moment's hesitation invited Mr. Hurst +to take a chair. + +"I suppose she told you we are engaged?" said the latter. + +"Engaged!" said the startled Mr. Mott. "Why, she told me she didn't like +men." + +"Playfulness," replied Mr. Hurst, with an odd look. "Ah, here she is!" + +The handle of the front door turned, and a moment later the door of the +room was opened and the charming head of Miss Garland appeared in the +opening. + +"Back again," she said, brightly. "I've just been----" + +She caught sight of Mr. Hurst, and the words died away on her lips. The +door slammed, and the two gentlemen, exchanging glances, heard a hurried +rush upstairs and the slamming of another door. Also a key was heard to +turn sharply in a lock. + +"She doesn't want to see you," said Mr. Mott, staring. + +The young man turned pale. + +"Perhaps she has gone upstairs to take her things off," he muttered, +resuming his seat. "Don't--don't hurry her!" + +"I wasn't going to," said Mr. Mott. + +He twisted his beard uneasily, and at the end of ten minutes looked from +the clock to Mr. Hurst and coughed. + +"If you wouldn't mind letting her know I'm waiting," said the young man, +brokenly. + +Mr. Mott rose, and went slowly upstairs. More slowly still, after an +interval of a few minutes, he came back again. + +"She doesn't want to see you," he said, slowly. + +Mr. Hurst gasped. + +"I--I must see her," he faltered. + +"She won't see you," repeated Mr. Mott. "And she told me to say she was +surprised at you following her down here." + +Mr. Hurst uttered a faint moan, and with bent head passed into the little +passage and out into the street, leaving Mr. Mott to return to the +sitting-room and listen to such explanations as Miss Garland deemed +advisable. Great goodness of heart in the face of persistent and +unwelcome attentions appeared to be responsible for the late engagement. + +"Well, it's over now," said her uncle, kindly, "and no doubt he'll soon +find somebody else. There are plenty of girls would jump at him, I +expect." + +Miss Garland shook her head. + +"He said he couldn't live without me," she remarked, soberly. + +Mr. Mott laughed. + +"In less than three months I expect he'll be congratulating himself," he +said, cheerfully. "Why, I was nearly cau--married, four times. It's a +silly age." + +His niece said "Indeed!" and, informing him in somewhat hostile tones +that she was suffering from a severe headache, retired to her room. + +Mr. Mott spent the evening by himself, and retiring to bed at ten-thirty +was awakened by a persistent knocking at the front door at half-past one. +Half awakened, he lit a candle, and, stumbling downstairs, drew back the +bolt of the door, and stood gaping angrily at the pathetic features of +Mr. Hurst. + +"Sorry to disturb you," said the young man, "but would you mind giving +this letter to Miss Garland?" + +"Sorry to disturb me!" stuttered Mr. Mott. "What do you mean by it? Eh? +What do you mean by it?" + +"It is important," said Mr. Hurst. "I can't rest. I've eaten nothing +all day." + +"Glad to hear it," snapped the irritated Mr. Mott. + +"If you will give her that letter, I shall feel easier," said Mr. Hurst. + +"I'll give it to her in the morning," said the other, snatching it from +him. "Now get off." + +Mr. Hurst still murmuring apologies, went, and Mr. Mott, also murmuring, +returned to bed. The night was chilly, and it was some time before he +could get to sleep again. He succeeded at last, only to be awakened an +hour later by a knocking more violent than before. In a state of mind +bordering upon frenzy, he dived into his trousers again and went +blundering downstairs in the dark. + +"Sorry to--" began Mr. Hurst. + +Mr. Mott made uncouth noises at him. + +"I have altered my mind," said the young man. "Would you mind letting me +have that letter back again? It was too final." + +"You--get--off!" said the other, trembling with cold and passion. + +"I must have that letter," said Mr. Hurst, doggedly. "All my future +happiness may depend upon it." + +Mr. Mott, afraid to trust himself with speech, dashed upstairs, and after +a search for the matches found the letter, and, returning to the front +door, shut it on the visitor's thanks. His niece's door opened as he +passed it, and a gentle voice asked for enlightenment. + +"How silly of him!" she said, softly. "I hope he won't catch cold. +What did you say?" + +"I was coughing," said Mr. Mott, hastily. + +"You'll get cold if you're not careful," said his thoughtful niece. +"That's the worst of men, they never seem to have any thought. Did he +seem angry, or mournful, or what? I suppose you couldn't see his face?" + +"I didn't try," said Mr. Mott, crisply. "Good night." + +By the morning his ill-humour had vanished, and he even became slightly +facetious over the events of the night. The mood passed at the same +moment that Mr. Hurst passed the window. + +"Better have him in and get it over," he said, irritably. + +Miss Garland shuddered. + +"Never!" she said, firmly. "He'd be down on his knees. It would be too +painful. You don't know him." + +"Don't want to," said Mr. Mott. + +He finished his breakfast in silence, and, after a digestive pipe, +proposed a walk. The profile of Mr. Hurst, as it went forlornly past the +window again, served to illustrate Miss Garland's refusal. + +"I'll go out and see him," said Mr. Mott, starting up. "Are you going to +be a prisoner here until this young idiot chooses to go home? It's +preposterous!" + +He crammed his hat on firmly and set out in pursuit of Mr. Hurst, who was +walking slowly up the street, glancing over his shoulder. "Morning!" +said Mr. Mott, fiercely. "Good morning," said the other. + +"Now, look here," said Mr. Mott. "This has gone far enough, and I won't +have any more of it. Why, you ought to be ashamed of yourself, chivvying +a young lady that doesn't want you. Haven't you got any pride?" + +"No," said the young man, "not where she is concerned." + +"I don't believe you have," said the other, regarding him, "and I expect +that's where the trouble is. Did she ever have reason to think you were +looking after any other girls?" + +"Never, I swear it," said Mr. Hurst, eagerly. + +"Just so," said Mr. Mott, with a satisfied nod. "That's where you made a +mistake. She was too sure of you; it was too easy. No excitement. +Girls like a man that other girls want; they don't want a turtle-dove in +fancy trousers." + +Mr. Hurst coughed. + +"And they like a determined man," continued Miss Garland's uncle. "Why, +in my young days, if I had been jilted, and come down to see about it, +d'you think I'd have gone out of the house without seeing her? I might +have been put out--by half-a-dozen--but I'd have taken the mantelpiece +and a few other things with me. And you are bigger than I am." + +"We aren't all made the same," said Mr. Hurst, feebly. + +"No, we're not," said Mr. Mott. "I'm not blaming you; in a way, I'm +sorry for you. If you're not born with a high spirit, nothing'll give it +to you." + +"It might be learnt," said Mr. Hurst. Mr. Mott laughed. + +"High spirits are born, not made," he said. "The best thing you can do +is to go and find another girl, and marry her before she finds you out." + +Mr. Hurst shook his head. + +"There's no other girl for me," he said, miserably. "And everything +seemed to be going so well. We've been buying things for the house for +the last six months, and I've just got a good rise in my screw." + +"It'll do for another girl," said Mr. Mott, briskly. "Now, you get off +back to town. You are worrying Florrie by staying here, and you are +doing no good to anybody. Good-bye." + +"I'll walk back as far as the door with you," said Mr. Hurst. "You've +done me good. It's a pity I didn't meet you before." + +"Remember what I've told you, and you'll do well yet," he said, patting +the young man on the arm. + +"I will," said Mr. Hurst, and walked on by his side, deep in thought. + +"I can't ask you in," said Mr. Mott, jocularly, as he reached his door, +and turned the key in the lock. "Good-bye." + +"Good-bye," said Mr. Hurst. + +He grasped the other's outstretched hand, and with a violent jerk pulled +him into the street. Then he pushed open the door, and, slipping into +the passage, passed hastily into the front room, closely followed by the +infuriated Mr. Mott. + +"What--what--what!" stammered that gentleman. + +"I'm taking your tip," said Mr. Hurst, pale but determined. "I'm going +to stay here until I have seen Florrie." + +"You--you're a serpent," said Mr. Mott, struggling for breath. "I--I'm +surprised at you. You go out before you get hurt." + +"Not without the mantelpiece," said Mr. Hurst, with a distorted grin. + +"A viper!" said Mr. Mott, with extreme bitterness. "If you are not out +in two minutes I'll send for the police." + +"Florrie wouldn't like that," said Mr. Hurst. "She's awfully particular +about what people think. You just trot upstairs and tell her that a +gentleman wants to see her." + +He threw himself into Mr. Mott's own particular easy chair, and, crossing +his knees, turned a deaf ear to the threats of that incensed gentleman. +Not until the latter had left the room did his features reveal the +timorousness of the soul within. Muffled voices sounded from upstairs, +and it was evident that an argument of considerable length was in +progress. It was also evident from the return of Mr. Mott alone that his +niece had had the best of it. + +"I've done all I could," he said, "but she declines to see you. She says +she won't see you if you stay here for a month, and you couldn't do that, +you know." + +"Why not?" inquired Mr. Hurst. + +"Why not?" repeated Mr. Mott, repressing his feelings with some +difficulty. "Food!" + +Mr. Hurst started. + +"And drink," said Mr. Mott, following up his advantage. "There's no good +in starving yourself for nothing, so you may as well go." + +"When I've seen Florrie," said the young man, firmly. + +Mr. Mott slammed the door, and for the rest of the day Mr. Hurst saw him +no more. At one o'clock a savoury smell passed the door on its way +upstairs, and at five o'clock a middle-aged woman with an inane smile +looked into the room on her way aloft with a loaded tea-tray. By supper- +time he was suffering considerably from hunger and thirst. + +At ten o'clock he heard the footsteps of Mr. Mott descending the stairs. +The door opened an inch, and a gruff voice demanded to know whether he +was going to stay there all night. Receiving a cheerful reply in the +affirmative, Mr. Mott secured the front door with considerable violence, +and went off to bed without another word. + +He was awakened an hour or two later by the sound of something falling, +and, sitting up in bed to listen, became aware of a warm and agreeable +odour. It was somewhere about the hour of midnight, but a breakfast +smell of eggs and bacon would not be denied. + +He put on some clothes and went downstairs. A crack of light showed +under the kitchen door, and, pushing it open with some force, he gazed +spellbound at the spectacle before him. + +"Come in," said Mr. Hurst, heartily. "I've just finished." + +He rocked an empty beer-bottle and patted another that was half full. +Satiety was written on his face as he pushed an empty plate from him, +and, leaning back in his chair, smiled lazily at Mr. Mott. + +"Go on," said that gentleman, hoarsely. Mr. Hurst shook his head. + +"Enough is as good as a feast," he said, reasonably. "I'll have some +more to-morrow." + +"Oh, will you?" said the other. "Will you?" + +Mr. Hurst nodded, and, opening his coat, disclosed a bottle of beer in +each breast-pocket. The other pockets, it appeared, contained food. + +"And here's the money for it," he said, putting down some silver on the +table. "I am determined, but honest." + +With a sweep of his hand, Mr. Mott sent the money flying. + +"To-morrow morning I send for the police. Mind that!" he roared. + +"I'd better have my breakfast early, then," said Mr. Hurst, tapping his +pockets. "Good night. And thank you for your advice." + +He sat for some time after the disappearance of his host, and then, +returning to the front room, placed a chair at the end of the sofa and, +with the tablecloth for a quilt, managed to secure a few hours' troubled +sleep. At eight o'clock he washed at the scullery sink, and at ten +o'clock Mr. Mott, with an air of great determination, came in to deliver +his ultimatum. + +"If you're not outside the front door in five minutes, I'm going to fetch +the police," he said, fiercely. + +"I want to see Florrie," said the other. + +"Well, you won't see her," shouted Mr. Mott. + +Mr. Hurst stood feeling his chin. + +"Well, would you mind taking a message for me?" he asked. "I just want +you to ask her whether I am really free. Ask her whether I am free to +marry again." + +Mr. Mott eyed him in amazement. + +"You see, I only heard from her mother," pursued Mr. Hurst, "and a friend +of mine who is in a solicitor's office says that isn't good enough. I +only came down here to make sure, and I think the least she can do is to +tell me herself. If she won't see me, perhaps she'd put it in writing. +You see, there's another lady." + +"But!" said the mystified Mr. Mott. + +"You told me----" + +"You tell her that," said the other. + +Mr. Mott stood for a few seconds staring at him, and then without a word +turned on his heel and went upstairs. Left to himself, Mr. Hurst walked +nervously up and down the room, and, catching sight of his face in the +old-fashioned glass on the mantel-piece, heightened its colour by a few +pinches. The minutes seemed inter-minable, but at last he heard the +steps of Mr. Mott on the stairs again. + +"She's coming down to see you herself," said the latter, solemnly. + +Mr. Hurst nodded, and, turning to the window, tried in vain to take an +interest in passing events. A light step sounded on the stairs, the door +creaked, and he turned to find himself con-fronted by Miss Garland. + +"Uncle told me--" she began, coldly. Mr. Hurst bowed. + +"I am sorry to have caused you so much trouble," he said, trying to +control his voice, "but you see my position, don't you?" + +"No," said the girl. + +"Well, I wanted to make sure," said Mr. Hurst. "It's best for all of us, +isn't it? Best for you, best for me, and, of course, for my young lady." + +"You never said anything about her before," said Miss Garland, her eyes +darkening. + +"Of course not," said Mr. Hurst. "How could I? I was engaged to you, +and then she wasn't my young lady; but, of course, as soon as you broke +it off--" + +"Who is she?" inquired Miss Garland, in a casual voice. + +"You don't know her," said Mr. Hurst. + +"What is she like?" + +"I can't describe her very well," said Mr. Hurst. "I can only say she's +the most beautiful girl I have ever seen. I think that's what made me +take to her. And she's easily pleased. She liked the things I have been +buying for the house tremendously." + +"Did she?" said Miss Garland, with a gasp. + +"All except that pair of vases you chose," continued the veracious Mr. +Hurst. "She says they are in bad taste, but she can give them to the +charwoman." + +"Oh!" said the girl. "Oh, indeed! Very kind of her. Isn't there +anything else she doesn't like?" + +Mr. Hurst stood considering. + +"She doesn't like the upholstering of the best chairs," he said at last. +"She thinks they are too showy, so she's going to put covers over them." + +There was a long pause, during which Mr. Mott, taking his niece gently by +the arm, assisted her to a chair. + +"Otherwise she is quite satisfied," concluded Mr. Hurst. + +Miss Garland took a deep breath, but made no reply. + +"I have got to satisfy her that I am free," said the young man, after +another pause. "I suppose that I can do so?" + +"I--I'll think it over," said Miss Garland, in a low voice. "I am not +sure what is the right thing to do. I don't want to see you made +miserable for life. It's nothing to me, of course, but still--" + +She got up and, shaking off the proffered assistance of her uncle, went +slowly and languidly up to her room. Mr. Mott followed her as far as the +door, and then turned indignantly upon Mr. Hurst. + +"You--you've broke her heart," he said, solemnly. + +"That's all right," said Mr. Hurst, with a delighted wink. "I'll mend it +again." + + + + +SAM'S GHOST + +Yes, I know, said the night-watchman, thoughtfully, as he sat with a cold +pipe in his mouth gazing across the river. I've 'eard it afore. People +tell me they don't believe in ghosts and make a laugh of 'em, and all I +say is: let them take on a night-watchman's job. Let 'em sit 'ere all +alone of a night with the water lapping against the posts and the wind +moaning in the corners; especially if a pal of theirs has slipped +overboard, and there is little nasty bills stuck up just outside in the +High Street offering a reward for the body. Twice men 'ave fallen +overboard from this jetty, and I've 'ad to stand my watch here the same +night, and not a farthing more for it. + +One of the worst and artfullest ghosts I ever 'ad anything to do with was +Sam Bullet. He was a waterman at the stairs near by 'ere; the sort o' +man that 'ud get you to pay for drinks, and drink yours up by mistake +arter he 'ad finished his own. The sort of man that 'ad always left his +baccy-box at 'ome, but always 'ad a big pipe in 'is pocket. + +He fell overboard off of a lighter one evening, and all that his mates +could save was 'is cap. It was on'y two nights afore that he 'ad knocked +down an old man and bit a policeman's little finger to the bone, so that, +as they pointed out to the widder, p'r'aps he was taken for a wise +purpose. P'r'aps he was 'appier where he was than doing six months. + +"He was the sort o' chap that'll make himself 'appy anywhere," ses one of +'em, comforting-like. + +"Not without me," ses Mrs. Bullet, sobbing, and wiping her eyes on +something she used for a pocket-hankercher. "He never could bear to be +away from me. Was there no last words?" + +"On'y one," ses one o' the chaps, Joe Peel by name. + +"As 'e fell overboard," ses the other. + +Mrs. Bullet began to cry agin, and say wot a good 'usband he 'ad been. +"Seventeen years come Michaelmas," she ses, "and never a cross word. +Nothing was too good for me. Nothing. I 'ad only to ask to 'ave." + +"Well, he's gorn now," ses Joe, "and we thought we ought to come round +and tell you." + +"So as you can tell the police," ses the other chap. + +That was 'ow I came to hear of it fust; a policeman told me that night as +I stood outside the gate 'aving a quiet pipe. He wasn't shedding tears; +his only idea was that Sam 'ad got off too easy. + +"Well, well," I ses, trying to pacify 'im, "he won't bite no more +fingers; there's no policemen where he's gorn to." + +He went off grumbling and telling me to be careful, and I put my pipe out +and walked up and down the wharf thinking. On'y a month afore I 'ad lent +Sam fifteen shillings on a gold watch and chain wot he said an uncle 'ad +left 'im. I wasn't wearing it because 'e said 'is uncle wouldn't like +it, but I 'ad it in my pocket, and I took it out under one of the lamps +and wondered wot I ought to do. + +My fust idea was to take it to Mrs. Bullet, and then, all of a sudden, +the thought struck me: "Suppose he 'adn't come by it honest?" + +I walked up and down agin, thinking. If he 'adn't, and it was found out, +it would blacken his good name and break 'is pore wife's 'art. That's +the way I looked at it, and for his sake and 'er sake I determined to +stick to it. + +I felt 'appier in my mind when I 'ad decided on that, and I went round to +the Bear's Head and 'ad a pint. Arter that I 'ad another, and then I +come back to the wharf and put the watch and chain on and went on with my +work. + +Every time I looked down at the chain on my waistcoat it reminded me of +Sam. I looked on to the river and thought of 'im going down on the ebb. +Then I got a sort o' lonesome feeling standing on the end of the jetty +all alone, and I went back to the Bear's Head and 'ad another pint. + +They didn't find the body, and I was a'most forgetting about Sam when one +evening, as I was sitting on a box waiting to get my breath back to 'ave +another go at sweeping, Joe Peel, Sam's mate, came on to the wharf to see +me. + +He came in a mysterious sort o' way that I didn't like: looking be'ind +'im as though he was afraid of being follered, and speaking in a whisper +as if 'e was afraid of being heard. He wasn't a man I liked, and I was +glad that the watch and chain was stowed safe away in my trowsis-pocket. + +"I've 'ad a shock, watchman," he ses. + +"Oh!" I ses. + +"A shock wot's shook me all up," he ses, working up a shiver. "I've seen +something wot I thought people never could see, and wot I never want to +see agin. I've seen Sam!" + +I thought a bit afore I spoke. "Why, I thought he was drownded," I ses. + +"So 'e is," ses Joe. "When I say I've seen 'im I mean that I 'ave seen +his ghost!" + +He began to shiver agin, all over. + +"Wot was it like?" I ses, very calm. + +"Like Sam," he ses, rather short. + +"When was it?" I ses. + +"Last night at a quarter to twelve," he ses. "It was standing at my +front door waiting for me." + +"And 'ave you been shivering like that ever since?" I ses. + +"Worse than that," ses Joe, looking at me very 'ard. "It's wearing off +now. The ghost gave me a message for you." + +I put my 'and in my trowsis-pocket and looked at 'im. Then I walked very +slow, towards the gate. + +"It gave me a message for you," ses Joe, walking beside me. "'We was +always pals, Joe,'" it ses, "'you and me, and I want you to pay up +fifteen bob for me wot I borrowed off of Bill the watchman. I can't rest +until it's paid,' it ses. So here's the fifteen bob, watchman." + +He put his 'and in 'is pocket and takes out fifteen bob and 'olds it out +to me. + +"No, no," I ses. "I can't take your money, Joe Peel. It wouldn't be +right. Pore Sam is welcome to the fifteen bob--I don't want it." + +"You must take it," ses Joe. "The ghost said if you didn't it would come +to me agin and agin till you did, and I can't stand any more of it." + +"I can't 'elp your troubles," I ses. + +"You must," ses Joe. "'Give Bill the fifteen bob,' it ses, 'and he'll +give you a gold watch and chain wot I gave 'im to mind till it was +paid.'" + +I see his little game then. "Gold watch and chain," I ses, laughing. +"You must ha' misunderstood it, Joe." + +"I understood it right enough," ses Joe, getting a bit closer to me as I +stepped outside the gate. "Here's your fifteen bob; are you going to +give me that watch and chain?" + +"Sartainly not," I ses. "I don't know wot you mean by a watch and chain. +If I 'ad it and I gave it to anybody, I should give it to Sam's widder, +not to you." + +"It's nothing to do with 'er," ses Joe, very quick. "Sam was most +pertikler about that." + +"I expect you dreamt it all," I ses. "Where would pore Sam get a gold +watch and chain from? And why should 'e go to you about it? Why didn't +'e come to me? If 'e thinks I 'ave got it let 'im come to me." + +"All right, I'll go to the police-station," ses Joe. + +"I'll come with you," I ses. "But 'ere's a policeman coming along. +Let's go to 'im." + +I moved towards 'im, but Joe hung back, and, arter using one or two words +that would ha' made any ghost ashamed to know 'im, he sheered off. I 'ad +a word or two with the policeman about the weather, and then I went +inside and locked the gate. + +My idea was that Sam 'ad told Joe about the watch and chain afore he fell +overboard. Joe was a nasty customer, and I could see that I should 'ave +to be a bit careful. Some men might ha' told the police about it--but I +never cared much for them. They're like kids in a way, always asking +questions--most of which you can't answer. + +It was a little bit creepy all alone on the wharf that night. I don't +deny it. Twice I thought I 'eard something coming up on tip-toe behind +me. The second time I was so nervous that I began to sing to keep my +spirits up, and I went on singing till three of the hands of the Susan +Emily, wot was lying alongside, came up from the fo'c'sle and offered to +fight me. I was thankful when daylight came. + +Five nights arterwards I 'ad the shock of my life. It was the fust night +for some time that there was no craft up. A dark night, and a nasty +moaning sort of a wind. I 'ad just lighted the lamp at the corner of the +warehouse, wot 'ad blown out, and was sitting down to rest afore putting +the ladder away, when I 'appened to look along the jetty and saw a head +coming up over the edge of it. In the light of the lamp I saw the dead +white face of Sam Bullet's ghost making faces at me. + +[Illustration: IN THE LIGHT OF THE LAMP I SAW THE DEAD WHITE FACE] + +I just caught my breath, sharp like, and then turned and ran for the +gate like a race-horse. I 'ad left the key in the padlock, in case of +anything happening, and I just gave it one turn, flung the wicket open +and slammed it in the ghost's face, and tumbled out into the road. + +I ran slap into the arms of a young policeman wot was passing. Nasty, +short-tempered chap he was, but I don't think I was more glad to see +anybody in my life. I hugged 'im till 'e nearly lost 'is breath, and +then he sat me down on the kerb-stone and asked me wot I meant by it. + +Wot with the excitement and the running I couldn't speak at fust, and +when I did he said I was trying to deceive 'im. + +"There ain't no such thing as ghosts," he ses; "you've been drinking." + +"It came up out o' the river and run arter me like the wind," I ses. + +"Why didn't it catch you, then?" he ses, looking me up and down and all +round about. "Talk sense." + +He went up to the gate and peeped in, and, arter watching a moment, +stepped inside and walked down the wharf, with me follering. It was my +dooty; besides, I didn't like being left all alone by myself. + +Twice we walked up and down and all over the wharf. He flashed his +lantern into all the dark corners, into empty barrels and boxes, and then +he turned and flashed it right into my face and shook his 'ead at me. + +"You've been having a bit of a lark with me," he ses, "and for two pins +I'd take you. Mind, if you say a word about this to anybody, I will." + +He stalked off with his 'ead in the air, and left me all alone in charge +of a wharf with a ghost on it. I stayed outside in the street, of +course, but every now and then I fancied I heard something moving about +the other side of the gate, and once it was so distinct that I run along +to the Bear's Head and knocked 'em up and asked them for a little brandy, +for illness. + +I didn't get it, of course; I didn't expect to; but I 'ad a little +conversation with the landlord from 'is bedroom-winder that did me more +good than the brandy would ha' done. Once or twice I thought he would +'ave fallen out, and many a man has 'ad his licence taken away for less +than a quarter of wot 'e said to me that night. Arter he thought he 'ad +finished and was going back to bed agin, I pointed' out to 'im that he +'adn't kissed me "good night," and if it 'adn't ha' been for 'is missis +and two grown-up daughters and the potman I believe he'd ha' talked to me +till daylight. + +'Ow I got through the rest of the night I don't know. It seemed to be +twenty nights instead of one, but the day came at last, and when the +hands came on at six o'clock they found the gate open and me on dooty +same as usual. + +I slept like a tired child when I got 'ome, and arter a steak and onions +for dinner I sat down and lit my pipe and tried to think wot was to be +done. One thing I was quite certain about: I wasn't going to spend +another night on that wharf alone. + +I went out arter a bit, as far as the Clarendon Arms, for a breath of +fresh air, and I 'ad just finished a pint and was wondering whether I +ought to 'ave another, when Ted Dennis came in, and my mind was made up. +He 'ad been in the Army all 'is life, and, so far, he 'ad never seen +anything that 'ad frightened 'im. I've seen him myself take on men twice +'is size just for the love of the thing, and, arter knocking them silly, +stand 'em a pint out of 'is own pocket. When I asked 'im whether he was +afraid of ghosts he laughed so 'ard that the landlord came from the other +end of the bar to see wot was the matter. + +I stood Ted a pint, and arter he 'ad finished it I told 'im just how +things was. I didn't say anything about the watch and chain, because +there was no need to, and when we came outside agin I 'ad engaged an +assistant-watchman for ninepence a night. + +"All you've got to do," I ses, "is to keep me company. You needn't turn +up till eight o'clock of a night, and you can leave 'arf an hour afore me +in the morning." + +"Right-o!" ses Ted. "And if I see the ghost I'll make it wish it 'ad +never been born." + +It was a load off my mind, and I went 'ome and ate a tea that made my +missis talk about the work-'ouse, and orstritches in 'uman shape wot would +eat a woman out of 'ouse and 'ome if she would let 'em. + +I got to the wharf just as it was striking six, and at a quarter to seven +the wicket was pushed open gentle and the ugly 'ead of Mr. Joe Peel was +shoved inside. + +"Hullo!" I ses. "Wot do you want?" + +"I want to save your life," he ses, in a solemn voice. "You was within a +inch of death last night, watchman." + +"Oh!" I ses, careless-like. "'Ow do you know!" + +"The ghost o' Sam Bullet told me," ses Joe. "Arter it 'ad chased you up +the wharf screaming for 'elp, it came round and told me all about it." + +"It seems fond of you," I ses. "I wonder why?" + +"It was in a terrible temper," ses Joe, "and its face was awful to look +at. 'Tell the watchman,' it ses, 'that if he don't give you the watch +and chain I shall appear to 'im agin and kill 'im.'" + +"All right," I ses, looking behind me to where three of the 'ands of the +Daisy was sitting on the fo'c'sle smoking. "I've got plenty of company +to-night." + +"Company won't save you," ses Joe. "For the last time, are you going to +give me that watch and chain, or not? Here's your fifteen bob." + +"No," I ses; "even if I 'ad got it I shouldn't give it to you; and it's +no use giving' it to the ghost, because, being made of air, he 'asn't got +anywhere to put it." + +"Very good," ses Joe, giving me a black look. "I've done all I can to +save you, but if you won't listen to sense, you won't. You'll see Sam +Bullet agin, and you'll not on'y lose the watch and chain but your life +as well." + +"All right," I ses, "and thank you kindly, but I've got an assistant, as +it 'appens--a man wot wants to see a ghost." + +"An' assistant?" ses Joe, staring. + +"An old soldier," I ses. "A man wot likes trouble and danger. His idea +is to shoot the ghost and see wot 'appens." + +"Shoot!" ses Joe. "Shoot a pore 'armless ghost. Does he want to be +'ung? Ain't it enough for a pore man to be drownded, but wot you must +try and shoot 'im arterwards? Why, you ought to be ashamed o' yourself. +Where's your 'art?" + +"It won't be shot if it don't come on my wharf," I ses. "Though I don't +mind if it does when I've got somebody with me. I ain't afraid of +anything living, and I don't mind ghosts when there's two of us. Besides +which, the noise of the pistol 'll wake up 'arf the river." + +"You take care you don't get woke up," ses Joe, 'ardly able to speak for +temper. + +He went off stamping, and grinding 'is teeth, and at eight o'clock to the +minute, Ted Dennis turned up with 'is pistol and helped me take care of +the wharf. Happy as a skylark 'e was, and to see him 'iding behind a +barrel with his pistol ready, waiting for the ghost, a'most made me +forget the expense of it all. + +It never came near us that night, and Ted was a bit disappointed next +morning as he took 'is ninepence and went off. Next night was the same, +and the next, and then Ted gave up hiding on the wharf for it, and sat +and snoozed in the office instead. + +A week went by, and then another, and still there was no sign of Sam +Bullet's ghost, or Joe Peel, and every morning I 'ad to try and work up a +smile as I shelled out ninepence for Ted. It nearly ruined me, and, +worse than that, I couldn't explain why I was short to the missis. Fust +of all she asked me wot I was spending it on, then she asked me who I was +spending it on. It nearly broke up my 'ome--she did smash one kitchen- +chair and a vase off the parlour mantelpiece--but I wouldn't tell 'er, +and then, led away by some men on strike at Smith's wharf, Ted went on +strike for a bob a night. + +That was arter he 'ad been with me for three weeks, and when Saturday +came, of course I was more short than ever, and people came and stood at +their doors all the way down our street to listen to the missis taking my +character away. + +I stood it as long as I could, and then, when 'er back was turned for +'arf a moment, I slipped out. While she'd been talking I'd been +thinking, and it came to me clear as daylight that there was no need for +me to sacrifice myself any longer looking arter a dead man's watch and +chain. + +I didn't know exactly where Joe Peel lived, but I knew the part, and +arter peeping into seven public-'ouses I see the man I wanted sitting by +'imself in a little bar. I walked in quiet-like, and sat down opposite +'im. + +"Morning," I ses. + +Joe Peel grunted. + +"'Ave one with me?" I ses. + +He grunted agin, but not quite so fierce, and I fetched the two pints +from the counter and took a seat alongside of 'im. + +"I've been looking for you," I ses. + +"Oh!" he ses, looking me up and down and all over. "Well, you've found +me now." + +"I want to talk to you about the ghost of pore Sam Bullet," I ses. + +Joe Peel put 'is mug down sudden and looked at me fierce. "Look 'ere! +Don't you come and try to be funny with me," he ses. "'Cos I won't 'ave +it." + +"I don't want to be funny," I ses. "Wot I want to know is, are you in +the same mind about that watch and chain as you was the other day?" + +He didn't seem to be able to speak at fust, but arter a time 'e gives a +gasp. "Woes the game?" he ses. + +"Wot I want to know is, if I give you that watch and chain for fifteen +bob, will that keep the ghost from 'anging round my wharf agin?" I ses. + +"Why, o' course," he ses, staring; "but you ain't been seeing it agin, +'ave you?" + +"I've not, and I don't want to," I ses. "If it wants you to 'ave the +watch and chain, give me the fifteen bob, and it's yours." + +He looked at me for a moment as if he couldn't believe 'is eyesight, and +then 'e puts his 'and into 'is trowsis-pocket and pulls out one shilling +and fourpence, 'arf a clay-pipe, and a bit o' lead-pencil. + +"That's all I've got with me," he ses. "I'll owe you the rest. You +ought to ha' took the fifteen bob when I 'ad it." + +There was no 'elp for it, and arter making 'im swear to give me the rest +o' the money when 'e got it, and that I shouldn't see the ghost agin, I +'anded the things over to 'im and came away. He came to the door to see +me off, and if ever a man looked puzzled, 'e did. Pleased at the same +time. + +It was a load off of my mind. My con-science told me I'd done right, and +arter sending a little boy with a note to Ted Dennis to tell 'im not to +come any more, I felt 'appier than I 'ad done for a long time. When I +got to the wharf that evening it seemed like a diff'rent place, and I was +whistling and smiling over my work quite in my old way, when the young +policeman passed. + +"Hullo!" he ses. "'Ave you seen the ghost agin?" + +"I 'ave not," I ses, drawing myself up. "'Ave you?" + +"No," he ses. + +"We missed it." + +"Missed it?" I ses, staring at 'im. + +"Yes," he ses, nodding. "The day arter you came out screaming, and +cuddling me like a frightened baby, it shipped as A.B. on the barque +Ocean King, for Valparaiso. We missed it by a few hours. Next time you +see a ghost, knock it down fust and go and cuddle the police arterwards." + + + + +BEDRIDDEN + +July 12, 1915.--Disquieting rumours to the effect that epidemic of +Billetitis hitherto confined to the north of King's Road shows signs of +spreading. + +July 14.--Report that two Inns of Court men have been seen peeping over +my gate. + +July 16.--Informed that soldier of agreeable appearance and charming +manners requests interview with me. Took a dose of Phospherine and went. +Found composite photograph of French, Joffre, and Hindenburg waiting for +me in the hall. Smiled (he did, I mean) and gave me the mutilated form +of salute reserved for civilians. Introduced himself as Quartermaster- +Sergeant Beddem, and stated that the Inns of Court O.T.C. was going +under canvas next week. After which he gulped. Meantime could I take in +a billet. Questioned as to what day the corps was going into camp said +that he believed it was Monday, but was not quite sure--might possibly be +Tuesday. Swallowed again and coughed a little. Accepted billet and felt +completely re-warded by smile. Q.M.S. bade me good-bye, and then with +the air of a man suddenly remembering something, asked me whether I could +take two. Excused myself and interviewed my C.O. behind the dining-room +door. Came back and accepted. Q.M.S. so overjoyed (apparently) that he +fell over the scraper. Seemed to jog his memory. He paused, and gazing +in absent fashion at the topmost rose on the climber in the porch, asked +whether I could take three! Added hopefully that the third was only a +boy. Excused myself. Heated debate with C.O. Subject: sheets. +Returned with me to explain to the Q.M.S. He smiled. C.O. accepted at +once, and, returning smile, expressed regret at size and position of +bedrooms available. Q.M.S. went off swinging cane jauntily. + +July 17.--Billets arrived. Spoke to them about next Monday and canvas. +They seemed surprised. Strange how the military authorities decline to +take men into their confidence merely because they are privates. Let +them upstairs. They went (for first and last time) on tiptoe. + +July 18.--Saw Q.M.S. Beddem in the town. Took shelter in the King's +Arms. + +Jug. 3.--Went to Cornwall. + +Aug. 31.--Returned. Billets received me very hospitably. + +Sept. 4.--Private Budd, electrical engineer, dissatisfied with +appearance of bell-push in dining-room, altered it. + +Sept. 5.--Bells out of order. + +Sept. 6.--Private Merited, also an electrical engineer, helped Private +Budd to repair bells. + +Sept. 7.--Private Budd helped Private Merited to repair bells. + +Sept. 8.--Privates Budd and Merited helped each other to repair bells. + +Sept. 9.--Sent to local tradesman to put my bells in order. + +Sept. 15.--Told that Q.M.S. Beddem wished to see me. Saw C.O. first. +She thought he had possibly come to take some of the billets away. +Q.M.S. met my approach with a smile that re-minded me vaguely of picture- +postcards I had seen. Awfully sorry to trouble me, but Private Montease, +just back from three weeks' holiday with bronchitis, was sleeping in the +wood-shed on three planks and a tin-tack. Beamed at me and waited. Went +and bought another bed-stead. + +Sept. 16.--Private Montease and a cough entered into residence. + +Sept. 17, 11.45 p.m.--Maid came to bedroom-door with some cough lozenges +which she asked me to take to the new billet. Took them. Private +Montease thanked me, but said he didn't mind coughing. Said it was an +heirloom; Montease cough, known in highest circles all over Scotland +since time of Young Pretender. + +Sept. 20.--Private Montease installed in easy-chair in dining-room with +touch of bronchitis, looking up trains to Bournemouth. + +Sept. 21.--Private Montease in bed all day. Cook anxious "to do her +bit" rubbed his chest with home-made embrocation. Believe it is same +stuff she rubs chests in hall with. Smells the same anyway. + +Sept. 24.--Private Montease, complaining of slight rawness of chest, but +otherwise well, returned to duty. + +Oct. 5.--Cough worse again. Private Montease thinks that with care it +may turn to bronchitis. Borrowed an A.B.C. + +Oct. 6.--Private Montease relates uncanny experience. Woke up with +feeling of suffocation to find an enormous black-currant and glycerine +jujube wedged in his gullet. Never owned such a thing in his life. +Seems to be unaware that he always sleeps with his mouth open. + +Nov. 14.--Private Bowser, youngest and tallest of my billets, gazetted. + +Nov. 15, 10.35 a.m.--Private Bowser in tip-top spirits said good-bye to +us all. + +10.45.--Told that Q.M.S. Beddem desired to see me. Capitulated. New +billet, Private Early, armed to the teeth, turned up in the evening. +Said that he was a Yorkshireman. Said that Yorkshire was the finest +county in England, and Yorkshiremen the finest men in the world. Stood +toying with his bayonet and waiting for contradiction. + +Jan. 5, 1916.--Standing in the garden just after lunch was witness to +startling phenomenon. Q.M.S. Beddem came towards front-gate with a +smile so expansive that gate after first trembling violently on its +hinges swung open of its own accord. Q.M.S., with smile (sad), said he +was in trouble. Very old member of the Inns of Court, Private Keen, had +re-joined, and he wanted a good billet for him. Would cheerfully give up +his own bed, but it wasn't long enough. Not to be outdone in hospitality +by my own gate accepted Private Keen. Q.M.S. digging hole in my path +with toe of right boot, and for first and only time manifesting signs of +nervousness, murmured that two life-long friends of Private Keen's had +rejoined with him. Known as the Three Inseparables. Where they were to +sleep, unless I----. Fled to house, and locking myself in top-attic +watched Q.M.S. from window. He departed with bent head and swagger-cane +reversed. + +Jan 6.--Private Keen arrived. Turned out to be son of an old Chief of +mine. Resolved not to visit the sins of the father on the head of a +child six feet two high and broad in proportion. + +Feb. 6.--Private Keen came home with a temperature. + +Feb. 7.--M.O. diagnosed influenza. Was afraid it would spread. + +Feb. 8.--Warned the other four billets. They seemed amused. Pointed +out that influenza had no terrors for men in No. 2 Company, who were +doomed to weekly night-ops. under Major Carryon. + +Feb. 9.--House strangely and pleasantly quiet. Went to see how Private +Keen was progressing, and found the other four billets sitting in a row +on his bed practising deep-breathing exercises. + +Feb. 16.--Billets on night-ops. until late hour. Spoke in highest terms +of Major Carryon's marching powers--also in other terms. + +March 3.--Waited up until midnight for Private Merited, who had gone to +Slough on his motor-bike. + +March 4, 1.5 a.m.--Awakened by series of explosions from over-worked, or +badly-worked, motor-bike. Put head out of window and threw key to +Private Merited. He seemed excited. Said he had been chased all the way +from Chesham by a pink rat with yellow spots. Advised him to go to bed. +Set him an example. + +1.10. a.m.--Heard somebody in the pantry. 2.10. a.m.--Heard Private +Merited going upstairs to bed. + +2.16 a.m.--Heard Private Merited still going upstairs to bed. + +2.20-3.15. a.m.--Heard Private Merited getting to bed. + +April 3, 12.30 a.m.--Town-hooter announced Zeppelins and excited soldier +called up my billets from their beds to go and frighten them off. +Pleasant to see superiority of billets over the hooter: that only emitted +three blasts. + +12.50 a.m.--Billets returned with exception of Private Merited, who was +retained for sake of his motor-bike. + +9 a.m.--On way to bath-room ran into Private Merited, who, looking very +glum and sleepy, inquired whether I had a copy of the Exchange and Mart +in the house. + +10 p.m.--Overheard billets discussing whether it was worth while removing +boots before going to bed until the Zeppelin scare was over. Joined in +discussion. + +May 2.--Rumours that the Inns of Court were going under canvas. +Discredited them. + +May 5.--Rumours grow stronger. + +May 6.--Billets depressed. Begin to think perhaps there is something in +rumours after all. + +May 9.-All doubts removed. Tents begin to spring up with the suddenness +of mushrooms in fields below Berkhamsted Place. + +May 18, LIBERATION DAY.--Bade a facetious good-bye to my billets; +response lacking in bonhomie. + +May 19.-House delightfully quiet. Presented caller of unkempt appearance +at back-door with remains of pair of military boots, three empty shaving- +stick tins, and a couple of partially bald tooth-brushes. + +May 21.--In afternoon went round and looked at camp. Came home smiling, +and went to favourite seat in garden to smoke. Discovered Private Early +lying on it fast asleep. Went to study. Private Merited at table +writing long and well-reasoned letter to his tailor. As he said he could +never write properly with anybody else in the room, left him and went to +bath-room. Door locked. Peevish but familiar voice, with a Scotch +accent, asked me what I wanted; also complained of temperature of water. + +May 22.--After comparing notes with neighbours, feel deeply grateful to +Q.M.S. Beddem for sending me the best six men in the corps. + +July 15.--Feel glad to have been associated, however remotely and humbly, +with a corps, the names of whose members appear on the Roll of Honour of +every British regiment. + + + + +THE CONVERT + +Mr. Purnip took the arm of the new recruit and hung over him almost +tenderly as they walked along; Mr. Billing, with a look of conscious +virtue on his jolly face, listened with much satisfaction to his friend's +compliments. + +"It's such an example," said the latter. "Now we've got you the others +will follow like sheep. You will be a bright lamp in the darkness." + +"Wot's good enough for me ought to be good enough for them," said Mr. +Billing, modestly. "They'd better not let me catch--" + +"H'sh! H'sh!" breathed Mr. Purnip, tilting his hat and wiping his bald, +benevolent head. + +"I forgot," said the other, with something like a sigh. "No more +fighting; but suppose somebody hits me?" + +"Turn the other cheek," replied Mr. Purnip. + +"They won't hit that; and when they see you standing there smiling at +them--" + +"After being hit?" interrupted Mr. Billing. + +"After being hit," assented the other, "they'll be ashamed of themselves, +and it'll hurt them more than if you struck them." + +"Let's 'ope so," said the convert; "but it don't sound reasonable. I can +hit a man pretty 'ard. Not that I'm bad-tempered, mind you; a bit quick, +p'r'aps. And, after all, a good smack in the jaw saves any amount of +argufying." + +Mr. Purnip smiled, and, as they walked along, painted a glowing picture +of the influence to be wielded by a first-class fighting-man who refused +to fight. It was a rough neighbourhood, and he recognized with sorrow +that more respect was paid to a heavy fist than to a noble intellect or a +loving heart. + +"And you combine them all," he said, patting his companion's arm. + +Mr. Billing smiled. "You ought to know best," he said, modestly. + +"You'll be surprised to find how easy it is," continued Mr. Purnip. "You +will go from strength to strength. Old habits will disappear, and you +will hardly know you have lost them. In a few months' time you will +probably be wondering what you could ever have seen in beer, for +example." + +"I thought you said you didn't want me to give up beer?" said the other. + +"We don't," said Mr. Purnip. "I mean that as you grow in stature you +will simply lose the taste for it." + +Mr. Billing came to a sudden full stop. "D'ye mean I shall lose my +liking for a drop o' beer without being able to help myself?" he +demanded, in an anxious voice. + +"Of course, it doesn't happen in every case," he said, hastily. + +Mr. Billing's features relaxed. "Well, let's 'ope I shall be one of the +fortunate ones," he said, simply. "I can put up with a good deal, but +when it comes to beer----" + +"We shall see," said the other, smiling. + +"We don't want to interfere with anybody's comfort; we want to make them +happier, that's all. A little more kindness between man and man; a +little more consideration for each other; a little more brightness in +dull lives." + +He paused at the corner of the street, and, with a hearty handshake, went +off. Mr. Billing, a prey to somewhat mixed emotions, continued on his +way home. The little knot of earnest men and women who had settled in +the district to spread light and culture had been angling for him for +some time. He wondered, as he walked, what particular bait it was that +had done the mischief. + +"They've got me at last," he remarked, as he opened the house-door and +walked into his small kitchen. "I couldn't say 'no' to Mr. Purnip." + +"Wish 'em joy," said Mrs. Billing, briefly. "Did you wipe your boots?" + +Her husband turned without a word, and, retreating to the mat, executed a +prolonged double-shuffle. + +"You needn't wear it out," said the surprised Mrs. Billing. + +"We've got to make people 'appier," said her husband, seriously; "be +kinder to 'em, and brighten up their dull lives a bit. That's wot Mr. +Purnip says." + +"You'll brighten 'em up all right," declared Mrs. Billing, with a sniff. +"I sha'n't forget last Tuesday week--no, not if I live to be a hundred. +You'd ha' brightened up the police-station if I 'adn't got you home just +in the nick of time." + +Her husband, who was by this time busy under the scullery-tap, made no +reply. He came from it spluttering, and, seizing a small towel, stood in +the door-way burnishing his face and regarding his wife with a smile +which Mr. Purnip himself could not have surpassed. He sat down to +supper, and between bites explained in some detail the lines on which his +future life was to be run. As an earnest of good faith, he consented, +after a short struggle, to a slip of oil-cloth for the passage; a pair of +vases for the front room; and a new and somewhat expensive corn-cure for +Mrs. Billing. + +"And let's 'ope you go on as you've begun," said that gratified lady. +"There's something in old Purnip after all. I've been worrying you for +months for that oilcloth. Are you going to help me wash up? Mr. Purnip +would." + +Mr. Billing appeared not to hear, and, taking up his cap, strolled slowly +in the direction of the Blue Lion. It was a beautiful summer evening, +and his bosom swelled as he thought of the improvements that a little +brotherliness might effect in Elk Street. Engrossed in such ideas, it +almost hurt him to find that, as he entered one door of the Blue Lion, +two gentlemen, forgetting all about their beer, disappeared through the +other. + +"Wot 'ave they run away like that for?" he demanded, looking round. +"I wouldn't hurt 'em." + +"Depends on wot you call hurting, Joe," said a friend. + +Mr. Billing shook his head. "They've no call to be afraid of me," he +said, gravely. "I wouldn't hurt a fly; I've got a new 'art." + +"A new wot?" inquired his friend, staring. + +"A new 'art," repeated the other. "I've given up fighting and swearing, +and drinking too much. I'm going to lead a new life and do all the good +I can; I'm going--" + +"Glory! Glory!" ejaculated a long, thin youth, and, making a dash for +the door, disappeared. + +"He'll know me better in time," said Mr. Billing. "Why, I wouldn't hurt +a fly. I want to do good to people; not to hurt 'em. I'll have a pint," +he added, turning to the bar. + +"Not here you won't," said the landlord, eyeing him coldly. + +"Why not?" demanded the astonished Mr. Billing. + +"You've had all you ought to have already," was the reply. "And there's +one thing I'll swear to--you ain't had it 'ere." + +"I haven't 'ad a drop pass my lips began the outraged Mr. Billing. + +"Yes, I know," said the other, wearily, as he shifted one or two glasses +and wiped the counter; "I've heard it all before, over and over again. +Mind you, I've been in this business thirty years, and if I don't know +when a man's had his whack, and a drop more, nobody does. You get off +'ome and ask your missis to make you a nice cup o' good strong tea, and +then get up to bed and sleep it off." + +"I dare say," said Mr. Billing, with cold dignity, as he paused at the +door--"I dare say I may give up beer altogether." + +He stood outside pondering over the unforeseen difficulties attendant +upon his new career, moving a few inches to one side as Mr. Ricketts, a +foe of long standing, came towards the public-house, and, halting a yard +or two away, eyed him warily. + +"Come along," said Mr. Billing, speaking somewhat loudly, for the benefit +of the men in the bar; "I sha'n't hurt you; my fighting days are over." + +"Yes, I dessay," replied the other, edging away. + +"It's all right, Bill," said a mutual friend, through the half-open door; +"he's got a new 'art." + +Mr. Ricketts looked perplexed. "'Art disease, d'ye mean?" he inquired, +hopefully. "Can't he fight no more?" + +"A new 'art," said Mr. Billing. "It's as strong as ever it was, but it's +changed--brother." + +"If you call me 'brother' agin I'll give you something for yourself, and +chance it," said Mr. Ricketts, ferociously. "I'm a pore man, but I've +got my pride." + +Mr. Billing, with a smile charged with brotherly love, leaned his left +cheek towards him. "Hit it," he said, gently. + +"Give it a smack and run, Bill," said the voice of a well-wisher inside. + +"There'd be no need for 'im to run," said Mr. Billing. "I wouldn't hit +'im back for anything. I should turn the other cheek." + +"Whaffor?" inquired the amazed Mr. Ricketts. + +"For another swipe," said Mr. Billing, radiantly. + +In the fraction of a second he got the first, and reeled back staggering. +The onlookers from the bar came out hastily. Mr. Ricketts, somewhat +pale, stood his ground. + +"You see, I don't hit you," said Mr. Billing, with a ghastly attempt at a +smile. + +He stood rubbing his cheek gently, and, remembering Mr. Purnip's +statements, slowly, inch by inch, turned the other in the direction of +his adversary. The circuit was still incomplete when Mr. Ricketts, +balancing himself carefully, fetched it a smash that nearly burst it. +Mr. Billing, somewhat jarred by his contact with the pavement, rose +painfully and confronted him. + +"I've only got two cheeks, mind," he said, slowly. + +Mr. Ricketts sighed. "I wish you'd got a blinking dozen," he said, +wistfully. "Well, so long. Be good." + +He walked into the Blue Lion absolutely free from that sense of shame +which Mr. Purnip had predicted, and, accepting a pint from an admirer, +boasted noisily of his exploit. Mr. Billing, suffering both mentally and +physically, walked slowly home to his astonished wife. + +"P'r'aps he'll be ashamed of hisself when 'e comes to think it over," he +murmured, as Mrs. Billing, rendered almost perfect by practice, +administered first aid. + +"I s'pect he's crying his eyes out," she said, with a sniff. "Tell me if +that 'urts." + +Mr. Billing told her, then, suddenly remembering himself, issued an +expurgated edition. + +"I'm sorry for the next man that 'its you," said his wife, as she drew +back and regarded her handiwork. + +"'Well, you needn't be," said Mr. Billing, with dignity. "It would take +more than a couple o' props in the jaw to make me alter my mind when I've +made it up. You ought to know that by this time. Hurry up and finish. +I want you to go to the corner and fetch me a pot." + +"What, ain't you going out agin?" demanded his astonished wife. + +Mr. Billing shook his head. "Somebody else might want to give me one," +he said, resignedly, "and I've 'ad about all I want to-night." + +His face was still painful next morning, but as he sat at breakfast in +the small kitchen he was able to refer to Mr. Ricketts in terms which +were an eloquent testimony to Mr. Purnip's teaching. Mrs. Billing, +unable to contain herself, wandered off into the front room with a +duster. + +"Are you nearly ready to go?" she inquired, returning after a short +interval. + +"Five minutes," said Mr. Billing, nodding. "I'll just light my pipe and +then I'm off." + +"'Cos there's two or three waiting outside for you," added his wife. + +Mr. Billing rose. "Ho, is there?" he said, grimly, as he removed his +coat and proceeded to roll up his shirt-sleeves. "I'll learn 'em. I'll +give 'em something to wait for. I'll----" + +His voice died away as he saw the triumph in his wife's face, and, +drawing down his sleeves again, he took up his coat and stood eyeing her +in genuine perplexity. + +"Tell 'em I've gorn," he said, at last. + +"And what about telling lies?" demanded his wife. "What would your Mr. +Purnip say to that?" + +"You do as you're told," exclaimed the harassed Mr. Billing. "I'm not +going to tell 'em; it's you." + +Mrs. Billing returned to the parlour, and, with Mr. Billing lurking in +the background, busied herself over a china flower-pot that stood in the +window, and turned an anxious eye upon three men waiting outside. After +a glance or two she went to the door. + +"Did you want to see my husband?" she inquired. + +The biggest of the three nodded. "Yus," he said, shortly. + +"I'm sorry," said Mrs. Billing, "but he 'ad to go early this morning. +Was it anything partikler?" + +"Gorn?" said the other, in disappointed tones. "Well, you tell 'im I'll +see 'im later on." + +He turned away, and, followed by the other two, walked slowly up the +road. Mr. Billing, after waiting till the coast was clear, went off in +the other direction. + +He sought counsel of his friend and mentor that afternoon, and stood +beaming with pride at the praise lavished upon him. Mr. Purnip's +co-workers were no less enthusiastic than their chief; and various +suggestions were made to Mr. Billing as to his behaviour in the unlikely +event of further attacks upon his noble person. + +He tried to remember the suggestions in the harassing days that followed; +baiting Joe Billing becoming popular as a pastime from which no evil +results need be feared. It was creditable to his fellow-citizens that +most of them refrained from violence with a man who declined to hit back, +but as a butt his success was assured. The night when a gawky lad of +eighteen drank up his beer, and then invited him to step outside if he +didn't like it, dwelt long in his memory. And Elk Street thrilled one +evening at the sight of their erstwhile champion flying up the road hotly +pursued by a foeman half his size. His explanation to his indignant wife +that, having turned the other cheek the night before, he was in no mood +for further punishment, was received in chilling silence. + +"They'll soon get tired of it," he said, hopefully; "and I ain't going to +be beat by a lot of chaps wot I could lick with one 'and tied behind me. +They'll get to understand in time; Mr. Purnip says so. It's a pity that +you don't try and do some good yourself." + +Mrs. Billing received the suggestion with a sniff; but the seed was sown. +She thought the matter over in private, and came to the conclusion that, +if her husband wished her to participate in good works, it was not for +her to deny him. Hitherto her efforts in that direction had been +promptly suppressed; Mr. Billing's idea being that if a woman looked +after her home and her husband properly there should be neither time +nor desire for anything else. His surprise on arriving home to tea on +Saturday afternoon, and finding a couple of hard-working neighbours +devouring his substance, almost deprived him of speech. + +"Poor things," said his wife, after the guests had gone; "they did enjoy +it. It's cheered 'em up wonderful. You and Mr. Purnip are quite right. +I can see that now. You can tell him that it was you what put it into my +'art." + +"Me? Why, I never dreamt o' such a thing," declared the surprised Mr. +Billing. "And there's other ways of doing good besides asking a pack of +old women in to tea." + +"I know there is," said his wife. "All in good time," she added, with a +far-away look in her eyes. + +Mr. Billing cleared his throat, but nothing came of it. He cleared it +again. + +"I couldn't let you do all the good," said his wife, hastily. "It +wouldn't be fair. I must help." + +Mr. Billing lit his pipe noisily, and then took it out into the back-yard +and sat down to think over the situation. The ungenerous idea that his +wife was making goodness serve her own ends was the first that occurred +to him. + +His suspicions increased with time. Mrs. Billing's good works seemed to +be almost entirely connected with hospitality. True, she had entertained +Mr. Purnip and one of the ladies from the Settlement to tea, but that +only riveted his bonds more firmly. Other visitors included his sister- +in-law, for whom he had a great distaste, and some of the worst-behaved +children in the street. + +"It's only high spirits," said Mrs. Billing; "all children are like that. +And I do it to help the mothers." + +"And 'cos you like children," said her husband, preserving his good- +humour with an effort. + +There was a touch of monotony about the new life, and the good deeds that +accompanied it, which, to a man of ardent temperament, was apt to pall. +And Elk Street, instead of giving him the credit which was his due, +preferred to ascribe the change in his behaviour to what they called +being "a bit barmy on the crumpet." + +He came home one evening somewhat dejected, brightening up as he stood +in the passage and inhaled the ravishing odours from the kitchen. Mrs. +Billing, with a trace of nervousness somewhat unaccountable in view of +the excellent quality of the repast provided, poured him out a glass of +beer, and passed flattering comment upon his appearance. + +"Wot's the game?" he inquired. + +"Game?" repeated his wife, in a trembling voice. "Nothing. 'Ow do you +find that steak-pudding? I thought of giving you one every Wednesday." + +Mr. Billing put down his knife and fork and sat regarding her +thoughtfully. Then he pushed back his chair suddenly, and, a picture of +consternation and wrath, held up his hand for silence. + +"W-w-wot is it?" he demanded. "A cat?" + +Mrs. Billing made no reply, and her husband sprang to his feet as a long, +thin wailing sounded through the house. A note of temper crept into it +and strengthened it. + +"Wot is it?" demanded Mr. Billing again. "It's--it's Mrs. Smith's +Charlie," stammered his wife. + +"In--in my bedroom?" exclaimed her husband, in incredulous accents. +"Wot's it doing there?" + +"I took it for the night," said his wife hurriedly. "Poor thing, what +with the others being ill she's 'ad a dreadful time, and she said if I'd +take Charlie for a few--for a night, she might be able to get some +sleep." + +Mr. Billing choked. "And what about my sleep?" he shouted. "Chuck it +outside at once. D'ye hear me?" + +His words fell on empty air, his wife having already sped upstairs to +pacify Master Smith by a rhythmical and monotonous thumping on the back. +Also she lifted up a thin and not particularly sweet voice and sang to +him. Mr. Billing, finishing his supper in indignant silence, told +himself grimly that he was "beginning to have enough of it." + +He spent the evening at the Charlton Arms, and, returning late, went +slowly and heavily up to bed. In the light of a shaded candle he saw a +small, objectionable-looking infant fast asleep on two chairs by the side +of the bed. + +"H'sh!" said his wife, in a thrilling whisper. "He's just gone off." + +"D'ye mean I mustn't open my mouth in my own bedroom?" demanded the +indignant man, loudly. + +"H'sh!" said his wife again. + +It was too late. Master Smith, opening first one eye and then the other, +finished by opening his mouth. The noise was appalling. + +"H'sh! H'sh!" repeated Mrs. Billing, as her husband began to add to the +noise. "Don't wake 'im right up." + +"Right up?" repeated the astonished man. "Right up? Why, is he doing +this in 'is sleep?" + +He subsided into silence, and, undressing with stealthy care, crept into +bed and lay there, marvelling at his self-control. He was a sound +sleeper, but six times at least he was awakened by Mrs. Billing slipping +out of bed--regardless of draughts to her liege lord--and marching up and +down the room with the visitor in her arms. He rose in the morning and +dressed in ominous silence. + +"I 'ope he didn't disturb you," said his wife, anxiously. + +"You've done it," replied Mr. Billing. "You've upset everything now. +Since I joined the Purnip lot everybody's took advantage of me; now I'm +going to get some of my own back. You wouldn't ha' dreamt of behaving +like this a few weeks ago." + +"Oh, Joe!" said his wife, entreatingly; "and everybody's been so happy!" + +"Except me," retorted Joe Billing. "You come down and get my breakfast +ready. If I start early I shall catch Mr. Bill Ricketts on 'is way to +work. And mind, if I find that steam-orgin 'ere when I come 'ome +to-night you'll hear of it." + +He left the house with head erect and the light of battle in his eyes, +and, meeting Mr. Ricketts at the corner, gave that justly aggrieved +gentleman the surprise of his life. Elk Street thrilled to the fact that +Mr. Billing had broken out again, and spoke darkly of what the evening +might bring forth. Curious eyes followed his progress as he returned +home from work, and a little later on the news was spread abroad that he +was out and paying off old scores with an ardour that nothing could +withstand. + +"And wot about your change of 'art?" demanded one indignant matron, as +her husband reached home five seconds ahead of Mr. Billing and hid in the +scullery. + +"It's changed agin," said Mr. Billing, simply. + +He finished the evening in the Blue Lion, where he had one bar almost to +himself, and, avoiding his wife's reproachful glance when he arrived +home, procured some warm water and began to bathe his honourable scars. + +"Mr. Purnip 'as been round with another gentleman," said his wife. + +Mr. Billing said, "Oh!" + +"Very much upset they was, and 'ope you'll go and see them," she +continued. + +Mr. Billing said "Oh!" again; and, after thinking the matter over, called +next day at the Settlement and explained his position. + +"It's all right for gentlemen like you," he said civilly. "But a man. +like me can't call his soul 'is own--or even 'is bedroom. Everybody +takes advantage of 'im. Nobody ever gives you a punch, and, as for +putting babies in your bedroom, they wouldn't dream of it." + +He left amid expressions of general regret, turning a deaf ear to all +suggestions about making another start, and went off exulting in his +freedom. + +His one trouble was Mr. Purnip, that estimable gentleman, who seemed to +have a weird gift of meeting him at all sorts of times and places, never +making any allusion to his desertion, but showing quite clearly by his +manner that he still hoped for the return of the wanderer. It was +awkward for a man of sensitive disposition, and Mr. Billing, before +entering a street, got into the habit of peering round the corner first. + +He pulled up suddenly one evening as he saw his tenacious friend, +accompanied by a lady-member, some little distance ahead. Then he sprang +forward with fists clenched as a passer-by, after scowling at Mr. Purnip, +leaned forward and deliberately blew a mouthful of smoke into the face of +his companion. + +Mr. Billing stopped again and stood gaping with astonishment. The +aggressor was getting up from the pavement, while Mr. Purnip, in an +absolutely correct attitude, stood waiting for him. Mr. Billing in a +glow of delight edged forward, and, with a few other fortunates, stood by +watching one of the best fights that had ever been seen in the district. +Mr. Purnip's foot-work was excellent, and the way he timed his blows made +Mr. Billing's eyes moist with admiration. + +It was over at last. The aggressor went limping off, and Mr. Purnip, +wiping his bald head, picked up his battered and dusty hat from the +roadway and brushed it on his sleeve. He turned with a start and a blush +to meet the delighted gaze of Mr. Billing. + +"I'm ashamed of myself," he murmured, brokenly--"ashamed." + +"Ashamed!" exclaimed the amazed Mr. Billing. "Why, a pro couldn't ha' +done better." + +"Such an awful example," moaned the other. "All my good work here thrown +away." + +"Don't you believe it, sir," said Mr. Billing, earnestly. "As soon as +this gets about you'll get more members than you want a'most. I'm coming +back, for one." + +Mr. Purnip turned and grasped his hand. + +"I understand things now," said Mr. Billing, nodding sagely. "Turning +the other cheek's all right so long as you don't do it always. If you +don't let 'em know whether you are going to turn the other cheek or knock +their blessed heads off, it's all right. 'Arf the trouble in the world +is caused by letting people know too much." + + + + +HUSBANDRY + +Dealing with a man, said the night-watchman, thoughtfully, is as easy as +a teetotaller walking along a nice wide pavement; dealing with a woman is +like the same teetotaller, arter four or five whiskies, trying to get up +a step that ain't there. If a man can't get 'is own way he eases 'is +mind with a little nasty language, and then forgets all about it; if a +woman can't get 'er own way she flies into a temper and reminds you of +something you oughtn't to ha' done ten years ago. Wot a woman would do +whose 'usband had never done anything wrong I can't think. + +I remember a young feller telling me about a row he 'ad with 'is wife +once. He 'adn't been married long and he talked as if the way she +carried on was unusual. Fust of all, he said, she spoke to 'im in a +cooing sort o' voice and pulled his moustache, then when he wouldn't give +way she worked herself up into a temper and said things about 'is sister. +Arter which she went out o' the room and banged the door so hard it blew +down a vase off the fireplace. Four times she came back to tell 'im +other things she 'ad thought of, and then she got so upset she 'ad to go +up to bed and lay down instead of getting his tea. When that didn't do +no good she refused her food, and when 'e took her up toast and tea she +wouldn't look at it. Said she wanted to die. He got quite uneasy till +'e came 'ome the next night and found the best part of a loaf o' bread, a +quarter o' butter, and a couple o' chops he 'ad got in for 'is supper had +gorn; and then when he said 'e was glad she 'ad got 'er appetite back she +turned round and said that he grudged 'er the food she ate. + +And no woman ever owned up as 'ow she was wrong; and the more you try and +prove it to 'em the louder they talk about something else. I know wot +I'm talking about because a woman made a mistake about me once, and +though she was proved to be in the wrong, and it was years ago, my missus +shakes her 'ead about it to this day. + +It was about eight years arter I 'ad left off going to sea and took up +night-watching. A beautiful summer evening it was, and I was sitting by +the gate smoking a pipe till it should be time to light up, when I +noticed a woman who 'ad just passed turn back and stand staring at me. +I've 'ad that sort o' thing before, and I went on smoking and looking +straight in front of me. Fat middle-aged woman she was, wot 'ad lost her +good looks and found others. She stood there staring and staring, and by +and by she tries a little cough. + +I got up very slow then, and, arter looking all round at the evening, +without seeing 'er, I was just going to step inside and shut the wicket, +when she came closer. + +"Bill!" she ses, in a choking sort o' voice. + +"Bill!" + +I gave her a look that made her catch 'er breath, and I was just stepping +through the wicket, when she laid hold of my coat and tried to hold me +back. + +"Do you know wot you're a-doing of?" I ses, turning on her. + +"Oh, Bill dear," she ses, "don't talk to me like that. Do you want to +break my 'art? Arter all these years!" + +She pulled out a dirt-coloured pocket-'ankercher and stood there dabbing +her eyes with it. One eye at a time she dabbed, while she looked at me +reproachful with the other. And arter eight dabs, four to each eye, she +began to sob as if her 'art would break. + +"Go away," I ses, very slow. "You can't stand making that noise outside +my wharf. Go away and give somebody else a treat." + +Afore she could say anything the potman from the Tiger, a nasty ginger- +'aired little chap that nobody liked, come by and stopped to pat her on +the back. + +"There, there, don't take on, mother," he ses. "Wot's he been a-doing to +you?" + +"You get off 'ome," I ses, losing my temper. + +"Wot d'ye mean trying to drag me into it? I've never seen the woman +afore in my life." + +"Oh, Bill!" ses the woman, sobbing louder than ever. "Oh! Oh! Oh!" + +"'Ow does she know your name, then?" ses the little beast of a potman. + +I didn't answer him. I might have told 'im that there's about five +million Bills in England, but I didn't. I stood there with my arms +folded acrost my chest, and looked at him, superior. + +"Where 'ave you been all this long, long time?" she ses, between her +sobs. "Why did you leave your happy 'ome and your children wot loved +you?" + +The potman let off a whistle that you could have 'eard acrost the river, +and as for me, I thought I should ha' dropped. To have a woman standing +sobbing and taking my character away like that was a'most more than I +could bear. + +"Did he run away from you?" ses the potman. + +"Ye-ye-yes," she ses. "He went off on a vy'ge to China over nine years +ago, and that's the last I saw of 'im till to-night. A lady friend o' +mine thought she reckernized 'im yesterday, and told me." + +"I shouldn't cry over 'im," ses the potman, shaking his 'ead: "he ain't +worth it. If I was you I should just give 'im a bang or two over the +'ead with my umberella, and then give 'im in charge." + +I stepped inside the wicket--backwards--and then I slammed it in their +faces, and putting the key in my pocket, walked up the wharf. I knew it +was no good standing out there argufying. I felt sorry for the pore +thing in a way. If she really thought I was her 'usband, and she 'ad +lost me---- I put one or two things straight and then, for the sake of +distracting my mind, I 'ad a word or two with the skipper of the John +Henry, who was leaning against the side of his ship, smoking. + +"Wot's that tapping noise?" he ses, all of a sudden. "'Ark!" + +I knew wot it was. It was the handle of that umberella 'ammering on the +gate. I went cold all over, and then when I thought that the pot-man was +most likely encouraging 'er to do it I began to boil. + +"Somebody at the gate," ses the skipper. + +"Aye, aye," I ses. "I know all about it." + +I went on talking until at last the skipper asked me whether he was +wandering in 'is mind, or whether I was. The mate came up from the cabin +just then, and o' course he 'ad to tell me there was somebody knocking at +the gate. + +"Ain't you going to open it?" ses the skipper, staring at me. + +"Let 'em ring," I ses, off-hand. + +The words was 'ardly out of my mouth afore they did ring, and if they 'ad +been selling muffins they couldn't ha' kept it up harder. And all the +time the umberella was doing rat-a-tat tats on the gate, while a voice-- +much too loud for the potman's--started calling out: "Watch-man ahoy!" + +"They're calling you, Bill," ses the skipper. "I ain't deaf," I ses, +very cold. + +"Well, I wish I was," ses the skipper. "It's fair making my ear ache. +Why the blazes don't you do your dooty, and open the gate?" + +"You mind your bisness and I'll mind mine," I ses. "I know wot I'm +doing. It's just some silly fools 'aving a game with me, and I'm not +going to encourage 'em." + +"Game with you?" ses the skipper. "Ain't they got anything better than +that to play with? Look 'ere, if you don't open that gate, I will." + +"It's nothing to do with you," I ses. "You look arter your ship and I'll +look arter my wharf. See? If you don't like the noise, go down in the +cabin and stick your 'ead in a biscuit-bag." + +To my surprise he took the mate by the arm and went, and I was just +thinking wot a good thing it was to be a bit firm with people sometimes, +when they came back dressed up in their coats and bowler-hats and climbed +on to the wharf. + +"Watchman!" ses the skipper, in a hoity-toity sort o' voice, "me and the +mate is going as far as Aldgate for a breath o' fresh air. Open the +gate." + +I gave him a look that might ha' melted a 'art of stone, and all it done +to 'im was to make 'im laugh. + +"Hurry up," he ses. "It a'most seems to me that there's somebody ringing +the bell, and you can let them in same time as you let us out. Is it the +bell, or is it my fancy, Joe?" he ses, turning to the mate. + +They marched on in front of me with their noses cocked in the air, and +all the time the noise at the gate got worse and worse. So far as I +could make out, there was quite a crowd outside, and I stood there with +the key in the lock, trembling all over. Then I unlocked it very +careful, and put my hand on the skipper's arm. + +"Nip out quick," I ses, in a whisper. + +"I'm in no hurry," ses the skipper. "Here! Halloa, wot's up?" + +It was like opening the door at a theatre, and the fust one through was +that woman, shoved behind by the potman. Arter 'im came a car-man, two +big 'ulking brewers' draymen, a little scrap of a woman with 'er bonnet +cocked over one eye, and a couple of dirty little boys. + +"Wot is it?" ses the skipper, shutting the wicket behind 'em. "A +beanfeast?" + +"This lady wants her 'usband," ses the pot-man, pointing at me. "He run +away from her nine years ago, and now he says he 'as never seen 'er +before. He ought to be 'ung." + +"Bill," ses the skipper, shaking his silly 'ead at me. "I can 'ardly +believe it." + +"It's all a pack o' silly lies," I ses, firing up. "She's made a +mistake." + +"She made a mistake when she married you," ses the thin little woman. +"If I was in 'er shoes I'd take 'old of you and tear you limb from limb." + +"I don't want to hurt 'im, ma'am," ses the other woman. "I on'y want him +to come 'ome to me and my five. Why, he's never seen the youngest, +little Annie. She's as like 'im as two peas." + +"Pore little devil," ses the carman. + +"Look here!" I ses, "you clear off. All of you. 'Ow dare you come on to +my wharf? If you aren't gone in two minutes I'll give you all in +charge." + +"Who to?" ses one of the draymen, sticking his face into mine. "You go +'ome to your wife and kids. Go on now, afore I put up my 'ands to you." + +"That's the way to talk to 'im," ses the pot-man, nodding at 'em. + +They all began to talk to me then and tell me wot I was to do, and wot +they would do if I didn't. I couldn't get a word in edgeways. When I +reminded the mate that when he was up in London 'e always passed himself +off as a single man, 'e wouldn't listen; and when I asked the skipper +whether 'is pore missus was blind, he on'y went on shouting at the top of +'is voice. It on'y showed me 'ow anxious most people are that everybody +else should be good. + +I thought they was never going to stop, and, if it 'adn't been for a fit +of coughing, I don't believe that the scraggy little woman could ha' +stopped. Arter one o' the draymen 'ad saved her life and spoilt 'er +temper by patting 'er on the back with a hand the size of a leg o' +mutton, the carman turned to me and told me to tell the truth, if it +choked me. + +"I have told you the truth," I ses. "She ses I'm her 'usband and I say I +ain't. Ow's she going to prove it? Why should you believe her, and not +me?" + +"She's got a truthful face," ses the carman. + +"Look here!" ses the skipper, speaking very slow, "I've got an idea, +wot'll settle it p'raps. You get outside," he ses, turning sharp on the +two little boys. + +One o' the draymen 'elped 'em to go out, and 'arf a minute arterwards a +stone came over the gate and cut the potman's lip open. Boys will be +boys. + +"Now!" ses the skipper, turning to the woman, and smiling with +conceitedness. "Had your 'usband got any marks on 'im? Birth-mark, or +moles, or anything of that sort?" + +"I'm sure he is my 'usband," ses the woman, dabbing her eyes. + +"Yes, yes," ses the skipper, "but answer my question. If you can tell us +any marks your 'usband had, we can take Bill down into my cabin and----" + +"You'll do WOT?" I ses, in a loud voice. + +"You speak when you're spoke to," ses the carman. "It's got nothing to +do with you." + +"No, he ain't got no birthmarks," ses the woman, speaking very slow--and +I could see she was afraid of making a mistake and losing me--"but he's +got tattoo marks. He's got a mermaid tattooed on 'im." + +"Where?" ses the skipper, a'most jumping. + +I 'eld my breath. Five sailormen out of ten have been tattooed with +mermaids, and I was one of 'em. When she spoke agin I thought I should +ha' dropped. + +"On 'is right arm," she ses, "unless he's 'ad it rubbed off." + +"You can't rub out tattoo marks," ses the skipper. + +They all stood looking at me as if they was waiting for something. I +folded my arms--tight--and stared back at 'em. + +"If you ain't this lady's 'usband," ses the skipper, turning to me, "you +can take off your coat and prove it." + +"And if you don't we'll take it off for you," ses the carman, coming a +bit closer. + +Arter that things 'appened so quick, I hardly knew whether I was standing +on my 'cad or my heels. Both, I think. They was all on top o' me at +once, and the next thing I can remember is sitting on the ground in my +shirt-sleeves listening to the potman, who was making a fearful fuss +because somebody 'ad bit his ear 'arf off. My coat was ripped up the +back, and one of the draymen was holding up my arm and showing them all +the mermaid, while the other struck matches so as they could see better. + +"That's your 'usband right enough," he ses to the woman. "Take 'im." + +"P'raps she'll carry 'im 'ome," I ses, very fierce and sarcastic. + +"And we don't want none of your lip," ses the carman, who was in a bad +temper because he 'ad got a fearful kick on the shin from somewhere. + +I got up very slow and began to put my coat on again, and twice I 'ad to +tell that silly woman that when I wanted her 'elp I'd let 'er know. Then +I 'eard slow, heavy footsteps in the road outside, and, afore any of 'em +could stop me, I was calling for the police. + +I don't like policemen as a rule; they're too inquisitive, but when the +wicket was pushed open and I saw a face with a helmet on it peeping in, I +felt quite a liking for 'em. + +"Wot's up?" ses the policeman, staring 'ard at my little party. + +They all started telling 'im at once, and I should think if the potman +showed him 'is ear once he showed it to 'im twenty times. He lost his +temper and pushed it away at last, and the potman gave a 'owl that set my +teeth on edge. I waited till they was all finished, and the policeman +trying to get 'is hearing back, and then I spoke up in a quiet way and +told 'im to clear them all off of my wharf. + +"They're trespassing," I ses, "all except the skipper and mate here. +They belong to a little wash-tub that's laying alongside, and they're +both as 'armless as they look." + +It's wonderful wot a uniform will do. The policeman just jerked his 'ead +and said "out-side," and the men went out like a flock of sheep. The +on'y man that said a word was the carman, who was in such a hurry that 'e +knocked his bad shin against my foot as 'e went by. The thin little +woman was passed out by the policeman in the middle of a speech she was +making, and he was just going for the other, when the skipper stopped +'im. + +"This lady is coming on my ship," he ses, puffing out 'is chest. + +I looked at 'im, and then I turned to the policeman. "So long as she +goes off my wharf, I don't mind where she goes," I ses. "The skipper's +goings-on 'ave got nothing to do with me." + +"Then she can foller him 'ome in the morning," ses the skipper. "Good +night, watch-man." + +Him and the mate 'elped the silly old thing to the ship, and, arter I 'ad +been round to the Bear's Head and fetched a pint for the police-man, I +locked up and sat down to think things out; and the more I thought the +worse they seemed. I've 'eard people say that if you have a clear +conscience nothing can hurt you. They didn't know my missus. + +I got up at last and walked on to the jetty, and the woman, wot was +sitting on the deck of the John Henry, kept calling out: "Bill!" like a +sick baa-lamb crying for its ma. I went back, and 'ad four pints at the +Bear's Head, but it didn't seem to do me any good, and at last I went and +sat down in the office to wait for morning. + +It came at last, a lovely morning with a beautiful sunrise; and that +woman sitting up wide awake, waiting to foller me 'ome. When I opened +the gate at six o'clock she was there with the mate and the skipper, +waiting, and when I left at five minutes past she was trotting along +beside me. + +Twice I stopped and spoke to 'er, but it was no good. Other people +stopped too, and I 'ad to move on agin; and every step was bringing me +nearer to my house and the missus. + +I turned into our street, arter passing it three times, and the first +thing I saw was my missus standing on the doorstep 'aving a few words +with the lady next door. Then she 'appened to look up and see us, just +as that silly woman was trying to walk arm-in-arm. + +Twice I knocked her 'and away, and then, right afore my wife and the +party next door, she put her arm round my waist. By the time I got to +the 'ouse my legs was trembling so I could hardly stand, and when I got +into the passage I 'ad to lean up against the wall for a bit. + +[Illustration: RIGHT AFORE MY WIFE AND THE PARTY NEXT DOOR SHE PUT HER +ARM ROUND MY WAIST.] + +"Keep 'er out," I ses. + +"Wot do you want?" ses my missus, trembling with passion. "Wot do you +think you're doing?" + +"I want my 'usband, Bill," ses the woman. + +My missus put her 'and to her throat and came in without a word, and the +woman follered 'er. If I hadn't kept my presence o' mind and shut the +door two or three more would 'ave come in too. + +I went into the kitchen about ten minutes arterwards to see 'ow they was +getting on. Besides which they was both calling for me. + +"Now then!" ses my missus, who was leaning up against the dresser with +'er arms folded, "wot 'ave you got to say for yourself walking in as bold +as brass with this hussy?" + +"Bill!" ses the woman, "did you hear wot she called me?" + +She spoke to me like that afore my wife, and in two minutes they was at +it, hammer and tongs. + +Fust of all they spoke about each other, and then my missus started +speaking about me. She's got a better memory than most people, because +she can remember things that never 'appened, and every time I coughed she +turned on me like a tiger. + +"And as for you," she ses, turning to the woman, "if you did marry 'im +you should ha' made sure that he 'adn't got a wife already." + +"He married me fust," ses the woman. + +"When?" ses my wife. "Wot was the date?" + +"Wot was the date you married 'im?" ses the other one. + +They stood looking at each other like a couple o' game-cocks, and I could +see as plain as a pike-staff 'ow frightened both of 'em was o' losing me. + +"Look here!" I ses at last, to my missus, "talk sense. 'Ow could I be +married to 'er? When I was at sea I was at sea, and when I was ashore I +was with you." + +"Did you use to go down to the ship to see 'im off?" ses the woman. + +"No," ses my wife. "I'd something better to do." + +"Neither did I," ses the woman. "P'raps that's where we both made a +mistake." + +"You get out of my 'ouse!" ses my missus, very sudden. "Go on, afore I +put you out." + +"Not without my Bill," ses the woman. "If you lay a finger on me I'll +scream the house down." + +"You brought her 'ere," ses my wife, turning to me, "now you can take 'er +away?" + +"I didn't bring 'er," I ses. "She follered me." + +"Well, she can foller you agin," she ses. "Go on!" she ses, trembling +all over. "Git out afore I start on you." + +I was in such a temper that I daren't trust myself to stop. I just gave +'er one look, and then I drew myself up and went out. 'Alf the fools in +our street was standing in front of the 'ouse, 'umming like bees, but I +took no notice. I held my 'ead up and walked through them with that +woman trailing arter me. + +I was in such a state of mind that I went on like a man in a dream. If +it had ha' been a dream I should ha' pushed 'er under an omnibus, but you +can't do things like that in real life. + +"Penny for your thoughts, Bill," she ses. I didn't answer her. + +"Why don't you speak to me?" she ses. + +"You don't know wot you're asking for," I ses. + +I was hungry and sleepy, and 'ow I was going to get through the day I +couldn't think. I went into a pub and 'ad a couple o' pints o' stout and +a crust o' bread and cheese for brekfuss. I don't know wot she 'ad, but +when the barman tried to take for it out o' my money, I surprised 'im. + +We walked about till I was ready to drop. Then we got to Victoria Park, +and I 'ad no sooner got on to the grass than I laid down and went +straight off to sleep. It was two o'clock when I woke, and, arter a +couple o' pork-pies and a pint or two, I sat on a seat in the Park +smoking, while she kep' dabbing 'er eyes agin and asking me to come 'ome. + +At five o'clock I got up to go back to the wharf, and, taking no notice +of 'er, I walked into the street and jumped on a 'bus that was passing. +She jumped too, and, arter the conductor had 'elped 'er up off of 'er +knees and taken her arms away from his waist, I'm blest if he didn't turn +on me and ask me why I 'adn't left her at 'ome. + +We got to the wharf just afore six. The John Henry 'ad gorn, but the +skipper 'ad done all the 'arm he could afore he sailed, and, if I 'adn't +kept my temper, I should ha' murdered arf a dozen of 'em. + +The woman wanted to come on to the wharf, but I 'ad a word or two with +one o' the fore-men, who owed me arf-a-dollar, and he made that all +right. + +"We all 'ave our faults, Bill," he ses as 'e went out, "and I suppose she +was better looking once upon a time?" + +I didn't answer 'im. I shut the wicket arter 'im, quick, and turned the +key, and then I went on with my work. For a long time everything was as +quiet as the grave, and then there came just one little pull at the bell. +Five minutes arterwards there was another. + +I thought it was that woman, but I 'ad to make sure. When it came the +third time I crept up to the gate. + +"Halloa!" I ses. "Who is it?" + +"Me, darling," ses a voice I reckernized as the potman's. "Your missus +wants to come in and sit down." + +I could 'ear several people talking, and it seemed to me there was quite +a crowd out there, and by and by that bell was going like mad. Then +people started kicking the gate, and shouting, but I took no notice +until, presently, it left off all of a sudden, and I 'eard a loud voice +asking what it was all about. I suppose there was about fifty of 'em all +telling it at once, and then there was the sound of a fist on the gate. + +"Who is it?" I ses. + +"Police," ses the voice. + +I opened the wicket then and looked out. A couple o' policemen was +standing by the gate and arf the riff-raff of Wapping behind 'em. + +"Wot's all this about?" ses one o' the policemen. + +I shook my 'ead. "Ask me another," I ses. "Your missus is causing a +disturbance," he ses. + +"She's not my missus," I ses; "she's a complete stranger to me." + +"And causing a crowd to collect and refusing to go away," ses the other +policeman. + +"That's your business," I ses. "It's nothing to do with me." + +They talked to each other for a moment, and then they spoke to the woman. +I didn't 'ear wot she said, but I saw her shake her 'ead, and a'most +direckly arterwards she was marching away between the two policemen with +the crowd follering and advising 'er where to kick 'em. + +I was a bit worried at fust--not about her--and then I began to think +that p'raps it was the best thing that could have 'appened. + +I went 'ome in the morning with a load lifted off my mind; but I 'adn't +been in the 'ouse two seconds afore my missus started to put it on agin. +Fust of all she asked me 'ow I dared to come into the 'ouse, and then she +wanted to know wot I meant by leaving her at 'ome and going out for the +day with another woman. + +"You told me to," I ses. + +"Oh, yes," she ses, trembling with temper. "You always do wot I tell +you, don't you? Al-ways 'ave, especially when it's anything you like." + +She fetched a bucket o' water and scrubbed the kitchen while I was having +my brekfuss, but I kept my eye on 'er, and, the moment she 'ad finished, +I did the perlite and emptied the bucket for 'er, to prevent mistakes. + +I read about the case in the Sunday paper, and I'm thankful to say my +name wasn't in it. All the magistrate done was to make 'er promise that +she wouldn't do it again, and then he let 'er go. I should ha' felt more +comfortable if he 'ad given 'er five years, but, as it turned out, it +didn't matter. Her 'usband happened to read it, and, whether 'e was +tired of living alone, or whether he was excited by 'caring that she 'ad +got a little general shop, 'e went back to her. + +The fust I knew about it was they came round to the wharf to see me. He +'ad been a fine-looking chap in 'is day, and even then 'e was enough like +me for me to see 'ow she 'ad made the mistake; and all the time she was +telling me 'ow it 'appened, he was looking me up and down and sniffing. + +"'Ave you got a cold?" I ses, at last. + +"Wot's that got to do with you?" he ses. "Wot do you mean by walking out +with my wife? That's what I've come to talk about." + +For a moment I thought that his bad luck 'ad turned 'is brain. "You've +got it wrong," I ses, as soon as I could speak. "She walked out with +me." + +"Cos she thought you was her 'usband," he ses, "but you didn't think you +was me, did you?" + +"'Course I didn't," I ses. + +"Then 'ow dare you walk out with 'er?" he ses. + +"Look 'ere!" I ses. "You get off 'ome as quick as you like. I've 'ad +about enough of your family. Go on, hook it." + +Afore I could put my 'ands up he 'it me hard in the mouth, and the next +moment we was at it as 'ard as we could go. Nearly every time I hit 'im +he wasn't there, and every time 'e hit me I wished I hadn't ha' been. +When I said I had 'ad enough, 'e contradicted me and kept on, but he got +tired of it at last, and, arter telling me wot he would do if I ever +walked 'is wife out agin, they went off like a couple o' love-birds. + +By the time I got 'ome next morning my eyes was so swelled up I could +'ardly see, and my nose wouldn't let me touch it. I was so done up I +could 'ardly speak, but I managed to tell my missus about it arter I had +'ad a cup o' tea. Judging by her face anybody might ha' thought I was +telling 'er something funny, and, when I 'ad finished, she looks up at +the ceiling and ses: + +"I 'ope it'll be a lesson to you," she ses. + + + + +FAMILY CARES + +Mr. Jernshaw, who was taking the opportunity of a lull in business to +weigh out pound packets of sugar, knocked his hands together and stood +waiting for the order of the tall bronzed man who had just entered the +shop--a well-built man of about forty--who was regarding him with blue +eyes set in quizzical wrinkles. + +"What, Harry!" exclaimed Mr. Jernshaw, in response to the wrinkles. +"Harry Barrett!" + +"That's me," said the other, extending his hand. "The rolling stone come +home covered with moss." + +Mr. Jernshaw, somewhat excited, shook hands, and led the way into the +little parlour behind the shop. + +"Fifteen years," said Mr. Barrett, sinking into a chair, "and the old +place hasn't altered a bit." + +"Smithson told me he had let that house in Webb Street to a Barrett," +said the grocer, regarding him, "but I never thought of you. I suppose +you've done well, then?" + +Mr. Barrett nodded. "Can't grumble," he said modestly. "I've got enough +to live on. Melbourne's all right, but I thought I'd come home for the +evening of my life." + +"Evening!" repeated his friend. "Forty-three," said Mr. Barrett, +gravely. "I'm getting on." + +"You haven't changed much," said the grocer, passing his hand through his +spare grey whiskers. "Wait till you have a wife and seven youngsters. +Why, boots alone----" + +Mr. Barrett uttered a groan intended for sympathy. "Perhaps you could +help me with the furnishing," he said, slowly. "I've never had a place +of my own before, and I don't know much about it." + +"Anything I can do," said his friend. "Better not get much yet; you +might marry, and my taste mightn't be hers." + +Mr. Barrett laughed. "I'm not marrying," he said, with conviction. + +"Seen anything of Miss Prentice yet?" inquired Mr. Jernshaw. + +"No," said the other, with a slight flush. "Why?" + +"She's still single," said the grocer. + +"What of it?" demanded Mr. Barrett, with warmth. "What of it?" + +"Nothing," said Mr. Jernshaw, slowly. "Nothing; only I----" + +"Well?" said the other, as he paused. + +"I--there was an idea that you went to Australia to--to better your +condition," murmured the grocer. "That--that you were not in a position +to marry--that----" + +"Boy and girl nonsense," said Mr. Barrett, sharply. "Why, it's fifteen +years ago. I don't suppose I should know her if I saw her. Is her +mother alive?" + +"Rather!" said Mr. Jernshaw, with emphasis. "Louisa is something like +what her mother was when you went away." + +Mr. Barrett shivered. + +"But you'll see for yourself," continued the other. "You'll have to go +and see them. They'll wonder you haven't been before." + +"Let 'em wonder," said the embarrassed Mr. Barrett. "I shall go and see +all my old friends in their turn; casual-like. You might let 'em hear +that I've been to see you before seeing them, and then, if they're +thinking any nonsense, it'll be a hint. I'm stopping in town while the +house is being decorated; next time I come down I'll call and see +somebody else." + +"That'll be another hint," assented Mr. Jernshaw. "Not that hints are +much good to Mrs. Prentice." + +"We'll see," said Mr. Barrett. + +In accordance with his plan his return to his native town was heralded by +a few short visits at respectable intervals. A sort of human butterfly, +he streaked rapidly across one or two streets, alighted for half an hour +to resume an old friendship, and then disappeared again. Having given at +least half-a-dozen hints of this kind, he made a final return to Ramsbury +and entered into occupation of his new house. + +"It does you credit, Jernshaw," he said, gratefully. "I should have made +a rare mess of it without your help." + +"It looks very nice," admitted his friend. "Too nice." + +"That's all nonsense," said the owner, irritably. + +"All right," said Mr. Jernshaw. "I don't know the sex, then, that's all. +If you think that you're going to keep a nice house like this all to +yourself, you're mistaken. It's a home; and where there's a home a woman +comes in, somehow." + +Mr. Barrett grunted his disbelief. + +"I give you four days," said Mr. Jernshaw. + +As a matter of fact, Mrs. Prentice and her daughter came on the fifth. +Mr. Barrett, who was in an easy-chair, wooing slumber with a handkerchief +over his head, heard their voices at the front door and the cordial +invitation of his housekeeper. They entered the room as he sat hastily +smoothing his rumpled hair. + +"Good afternoon," he said, shaking hands. + +Mrs. Prentice returned the greeting in a level voice, and, accepting a +chair, gazed around the room. + +"Nice weather," said Mr. Barrett. + +"Very," said Mrs. Prentice. + +"It's--it's quite a pleasure to see you again," said Mr. Barrett. + +"We thought we should have seen you before," said Mrs. Prentice, "but +I told Louisa that no doubt you were busy, and wanted to surprise her. +I like the carpet; don't you, Louisa?" + +Miss Prentice said she did. + +"The room is nice and airy," said Mrs. Prentice, "but it's a pity you +didn't come to me before deciding. I could have told you of a better +house for the same money." + +"I'm very well satisfied with this," said Mr. Barrett. "It's all I +want." + +"It's well enough," conceded Mrs. Prentice, amiably. "And how have you +been all these years?" + +Mr. Barrett, with some haste, replied that his health and spirits had +been excellent. + +"You look well," said Mrs. Prentice. "Neither of you seem to have +changed much," she added, looking from him to her daughter. "And I think +you did quite well not to write. I think it was much the best." + +Mr. Barrett sought for a question: a natural, artless question, that +would neutralize the hideous suggestion conveyed by this remark, but it +eluded him. He sat and gazed in growing fear at Mrs. Prentice. + +"I--I couldn't write," he said at last, in desperation; "my wife----" + +"Your what?" exclaimed Mrs. Prentice, loudly. + +"Wife," said Mr. Barrett, suddenly calm now that he had taken the plunge. +"She wouldn't have liked it." + +Mrs. Prentice tried to control her voice. "I never heard you were +married!" she gasped. "Why isn't she here?" + +"We couldn't agree," said the veracious Mr. Barrett. "She was very +difficult; so I left the children with her and----" + +"Chil----" said Mrs. Prentice, and paused, unable to complete the word. + +"Five," said Mr. Barrett, in tones of resignation. "It was rather a +wrench, parting with them, especially the baby. He got his first tooth +the day I left." + +The information fell on deaf ears. Mrs. Prentice, for once in her life +thoroughly at a loss, sat trying to collect her scattered faculties. She +had come out prepared for a hard job, but not an impossible one. All +things considered, she took her defeat with admirable composure. + +"I have no doubt it is much the best thing for the children to remain +with their mother," she said, rising. + +"Much the best," agreed Mr. Barrett. "Whatever she is like," continued +the old lady. "Are you ready, Louisa?" + +Mr. Barrett followed them to the door, and then, returning to the room, +watched, with glad eyes, their progress up the street. + +"Wonder whether she'll keep it to herself?" he muttered. + +His doubts were set at rest next day. All Ramsbury knew by then of his +matrimonial complications, and seemed anxious to talk about them; +complications which tended to increase until Mr. Barrett wrote out a list +of his children's names and ages and learnt it off by heart. + +Relieved of the attentions of the Prentice family, he walked the streets +a free man; and it was counted to him for righteousness that he never +said a hard word about his wife. She had her faults, he said, but they +were many thousand miles away, and he preferred to forget them. And he +added, with some truth, that he owed her a good deal. + +For a few months he had no reason to alter his opinion. Thanks to his +presence of mind, the Prentice family had no terrors for him. Heart- +whole and fancy free, he led the easy life of a man of leisure, a +condition of things suddenly upset by the arrival of Miss Grace Lindsay +to take up a post at the elementary school. Mr. Barrett succumbed almost +at once, and, after a few encounters in the street and meetings at mutual +friends', went to unbosom him-self to Mr. Jernshaw. + +"What has she got to do with you?" demanded that gentleman. + +"I--I'm rather struck with her," said Mr. Barrett. + +"Struck with her?" repeated his friend, sharply. "I'm surprised at you. +You've no business to think of such things." + +"Why not?" demanded Mr. Barrett, in tones that were sharper still. + +"Why not?" repeated the other. "Have you forgotten your wife and +children?" + +Mr. Barrett, who, to do him justice, had forgotten, fell back in his +chair and sat gazing at him, open-mouthed. + +"You're in a false position--in a way," said Mr. Jernshaw, sternly. + +"False is no name for it," said Mr. Barrett, huskily. "What am I to do?" + +"Do?" repeated the other, staring at him. "Nothing! Unless, perhaps, +you send for your wife and children. I suppose, in any case, you would +have to have the little ones if anything happened to her?" + +Mr. Barrett grinned ruefully. + +"Think it over," said Mr. Jernshaw. "I will," said the other, heartily. + +He walked home deep in thought. He was a kindly man, and he spent some +time thinking out the easiest death for Mrs. Barrett. He decided at last +upon heart-disease, and a fort-night later all Ramsbury knew of the +letter from Australia conveying the mournful intelligence. It was +generally agreed that the mourning and the general behaviour of the +widower left nothing to be desired. + +"She's at peace at last," he said, solemnly, to Jernshaw. + +"I believe you killed her," said his friend. Mr. Barrett started +violently. + +"I mean your leaving broke her heart," explained the other. + +Mr. Barrett breathed easily again. + +"It's your duty to look after the children," said Jernshaw, firmly. "And +I'm not the only one that thinks so." + +"They are with their grandfather and grand-mother," said Mr. Barrett. + +Mr. Jernshaw sniffed. + +"And four uncles and five aunts," added Mr. Barrett, triumphantly. + +"Think how they would brighten up your house," said Mr. Jernshaw. + +His friend shook his head. "It wouldn't be fair to their grandmother," +he said, decidedly. "Besides, Australia wants population." + +He found to his annoyance that Mr. Jernshaw's statement that he was not +alone in his views was correct. Public opinion seemed to expect the +arrival of the children, and one citizen even went so far as to recommend +a girl he knew, as nurse. + +Ramsbury understood at last that his decision was final, and, observing +his attentions to the new schoolmistress, flattered itself that it had +discovered the reason. It is possible that Miss Lindsay shared their +views, but if so she made no sign, and on the many occasions on which she +met Mr. Barrett on her way to and from school greeted him with frank +cordiality. Even when he referred to his loneliness, which he did +frequently, she made no comment. + +He went into half-mourning at the end of two months, and a month later +bore no outward signs of his loss. Added to that his step was springy +and his manner youthful. Miss Lindsay was twenty-eight, and he persuaded +himself that, sexes considered, there was no disparity worth mentioning. + +He was only restrained from proposing by a question of etiquette. Even a +shilling book on the science failed to state the interval that should +elapse between the death of one wife and the negotiations for another. +It preferred instead to give minute instructions with regard to the +eating of asparagus. In this dilemma he consulted Jernshaw. + +"Don't know, I'm sure," said that gentle-man; "besides, it doesn't +matter." + +"Doesn't matter?" repeated Mr. Barrett. "Why not?" + +"Because I think Tillett is paying her attentions," was the reply. "He's +ten years younger than you are, and a bachelor. A girl would naturally +prefer him to a middle-aged widower with five children." + +"In Australia," the other reminded him. + +"Man for man, bachelor for bachelor," said Mr. Jernshaw, regarding him, +"she might prefer you; as things are--" + +"I shall ask her," said Mr. Barrett, doggedly. "I was going to wait a +bit longer, but if there's any chance of her wrecking her prospects for +life by marrying that tailor's dummy it's my duty to risk it--for her +sake. I've seen him talking to her twice myself, but I never thought +he'd dream of such a thing." + +Apprehension and indignation kept him awake half the night, but when he +arose next morning it was with the firm resolve to put his fortune to the +test that day. At four o'clock he changed his neck-tie for the third +time, and at ten past sallied out in the direction of the school. He met +Miss Lindsay just coming out, and, after a well-deserved compliment to +the weather, turned and walked with her. + +"I was hoping to meet you," he said, slowly. + +"Yes?" said the girl. + +"I--I have been feeling rather lonely to-day," he continued. + +"You often do," said Miss Lindsay, guardedly. + +"It gets worse and worse," said Mr. Barrett, sadly. + +"I think I know what is the matter with you," said the girl, in a soft +voice; "you have got nothing to do all day, and you live alone, except +for your housekeeper." + +Mr. Barrett assented with some eagerness, and stole a hopeful glance at +her. + +"You--you miss something," continued Miss. Lindsay, in a faltering +voice. + +"I do," said Mr. Barrett, with ardour. + +"You miss"--the girl made an effort--"you miss the footsteps and voices +of your little children." + +Mr. Barrett stopped suddenly in the street, and then, with a jerk, went +blindly on. + +"I've never spoken of it before because it's your business, not mine," +continued the girl. "I wouldn't have spoken now, but when you referred to +your loneliness I thought perhaps you didn't realize the cause of it." + +Mr. Barrett walked on in silent misery. + +"Poor little motherless things!" said Miss Lindsay, softly. "Motherless +and--fatherless." + +"Better for them," said Mr. Barrett, finding his voice at last. + +"It almost looks like it," said Miss Lindsay, with a sigh. + +Mr. Barrett tried to think clearly, but the circumstances were hardly +favourable. "Suppose," he said, speaking very slowly, "suppose I wanted +to get married?" + +Miss Lindsay started. "What, again?" she said, with an air of surprise. + +"How could I ask a girl to come and take over five children?" + +"No woman that was worth having would let little children be sacrificed +for her sake," said Miss Lindsay, decidedly. + +"Do you think anybody would marry me with five children?" demanded Mr. +Barrett. + +"She might," said the girl, edging away from him a little. "It depends +on the woman." + +"Would--you, for instance?" said Mr. Barrett, desperately. + +Miss Lindsay shrank still farther away. "I don't know; it would depend +upon circumstances," she murmured. + +"I will write and send for them," said Mr. Barrett, significantly. + +Miss Lindsay made no reply. They had arrived at her gate by this time, +and, with a hurried handshake, she disappeared indoors. + +Mr. Barrett, somewhat troubled in mind, went home to tea. + +He resolved, after a little natural hesitation, to drown the children, +and reproached himself bitterly for not having disposed of them at the +same time as their mother. Now he would have to go through another +period of mourning and the consequent delay in pressing his suit. +Moreover, he would have to allow a decent interval between his +conversation with Miss Lindsay and their untimely end. + +The news of the catastrophe arrived two or three days before the return +of the girl from her summer holidays. She learnt it in the first half- +hour from her landlady, and sat in a dazed condition listening to a +description of the grief-stricken father and the sympathy extended to him +by his fellow-citizens. It appeared that nothing had passed his lips for +two days. + +[Illustration: SHE LEARNT THE NEWS IN THE FIRST HALF-HOER FROM HER +LANDLADY.] + +"Shocking!" said Miss Lindsay, briefly. "Shocking!" + +An instinctive feeling that the right and proper thing to do was to nurse +his grief in solitude kept Mr. Barrett out of her way for nearly a week. +When she did meet him she received a limp handshake and a greeting in a +voice from which all hope seemed to have departed. + +"I am very sorry," she said, with a sort of measured gentleness. + +Mr. Barrett, in his hushed voice, thanked her. + +"I am all alone now," he said, pathetically. "There is nobody now to +care whether I live or die." + +Miss Lindsay did not contradict him. + +"How did it happen?" she inquired, after they had gone some distance in +silence. + +"They were out in a sailing-boat," said Mr. Barrett; "the boat capsized +in a puff of wind, and they were all drowned." + +"Who was in charge of them?" inquired the girl, after a decent interval. + +"Boatman," replied the other. + +"How did you hear?" + +"I had a letter from one of my sisters-in-law, Charlotte," said Mr. +Barrett. "A most affecting letter. Poor Charlotte was like a second +mother to them. She'll never be the same woman again. Never!" + +"I should like to see the letter," said Miss Lindsay, musingly. + +Mr. Barrett suppressed a start. "I should like to show it to you," he +said, "but I'm afraid I have destroyed it. It made me shudder every time +I looked at it." + +"It's a pity," said the girl, dryly. "I should have liked to see it. +I've got my own idea about the matter. Are you sure she was very fond of +them?" + +"She lived only for them," said Mr. Barrett, in a rapt voice. + +"Exactly. I don't believe they are drowned at all," said Miss Lindsay, +suddenly. "I believe you have had all this terrible anguish for nothing. +It's too cruel." + +Mr. Barrett stared at her in anxious amazement. + +"I see it all now," continued the girl. "Their Aunt Charlotte was +devoted to them. She always had the fear that some day you would return +and claim them, and to prevent that she invented the story of their +death." + +"Charlotte is the most truthful woman that ever breathed," said the +distressed Mr. Barrett. + +Miss Lindsay shook her head. "You are like all other honourable, +truthful people," she said, looking at him gravely. "You can't imagine +anybody else telling a falsehood. I don't believe you could tell one if +you tried." + +Mr. Barrett gazed about him with the despairing look of a drowning +mariner. + +"I'm certain I'm right," continued the girl. "I can see Charlotte +exulting in her wickedness. Why!" + +"What's the matter?" inquired Mr. Barrett, greatly worried. + +"I've just thought of it," said Miss Lindsay. "She's told you that your +children are drowned, and she has probably told them you are dead. A +woman like that would stick at nothing to gain her ends." + +"You don't know Charlotte," said Mr. Barrett, feebly. + +"I think I do," was the reply. "However, we'll make sure. I suppose +you've got friends in Melbourne?" + +"A few," said Mr. Barrett, guardedly. + +"Come down to the post-office and cable to one of them." + +Mr. Barrett hesitated. "I'll write," he said, slowly. "It's an awkward +thing to cable; and there's no hurry. I'll write to Jack Adams, +I think." + +"It's no good writing," said Miss Lindsay, firmly. "You ought to know +that." + +"Why not?" demanded the other. + +"Because, you foolish man," said the girl, calmly, "before your letter +got there, there would be one from Melbourne saying that he had been +choked by a fish-bone, or died of measles, or something of that sort." + +Mr. Barrett, hardly able to believe his ears, stopped short and looked at +her. The girl's eyes were moist with mirth and her lips trembling. He +put out his hand and took her wrist in a strong grip. + +"That's all right," he said, with a great gasp of relief. "_Phew!_ At +one time I thought I had lost you." + +"By heart-disease, or drowning?" inquired Miss Lindsay, softly. + + + + +THE WINTER OFFENSIVE + +_N.B.--Having regard to the eccentricities of the Law of Libel it must be +distinctly understood that the following does not refer to the +distinguished officer, Lieut. Troup Horne, of the Inns of Court. +Anybody trying to cause mischief between a civilian of eight stone and a +soldier of seventeen by a statement to the contrary will hear from my +solicitors._ + + +Aug. 29, 1916.--We returned from the sea to find our house still our +own, and the military still in undisputed possession of the remains of +the grass in the fields of Berkhamsted Place. As in previous years, it +was impossible to go in search of wild-flowers without stumbling over +sleeping members of the Inns of Court; but war is war, and we grumble as +little as possible. + +Sept. 28.--Unpleasant rumours to the effect that several members of the +Inns of Court had attributed cases of curvature of the spine to sleeping +on ground that had been insufficiently rolled. Also that they had been +heard to smack their lips and speak darkly of featherbeds. Respected +neighbour of gloomy disposition said that if Pharaoh were still alive he +could suggest an eleventh plague to him beside which frogs and flies were +an afternoon's diversion. + +Oct. 3.--Householders of Berkhamsted busy mending bedsteads broken by +last year's billets, and buying patent taps for their beer-barrels. + +Oct. 15.--Informed that a representative of the Army wished to see me. +Instead of my old friend Q.M.S. Beddem, who generally returns to life at +this time of year, found that it was an officer of magnificent presence +and two pips. A fine figure of a man, with a great resemblance to the +late lamented Bismarck, minus the moustache and the three hairs on the +top of the head. Asked him to be seated. He selected a chair that was +all arms and legs and no hips to speak of and crushed himself into it. +After which he unfastened his belt and "swelled wisibly afore my werry +eyes." Said that his name was True Born and asked if it made any +difference to me whether I had one officer or half-a-dozen men billeted +on me. Said that he was the officer, and that as the rank-and-file were +not allowed to pollute the same atmosphere, thought I should score. +After a mental review of all I could remember of the Weights and Measures +Table, accepted him. He bade a lingering farewell to the chair, and +departed. + +Oct. 16.--Saw Q.M.S. Beddem on the other side of the road and gave him +an absolutely new thrill by crossing to meet him. Asked diffidently--as +diffidently as he could, that is--how many men my house would hold. +Replied eight--or ten at a pinch. He gave me a surprised and beaming +smile and whipped out a huge note-book. Informed him with as much regret +as I could put into a voice not always under perfect control, that I had +already got an officer. Q.M.S., favouring me with a look very +appropriate to the Devil's Own, turned on his heel and set off in pursuit +of a lady-billetee, pulling up short on the threshold of the baby-linen +shop in which she took refuge. Left him on guard with a Casablanca-like +look on his face. + +Nov. 1.--Lieut. True Born took up his quarters with us. Gave him my +dressing-room for bedchamber. Was awakened several times in the night by +what I took to be Zeppelins, flying low. + +Nov. 2.--Lieut. True Born offered to bet me five pounds to twenty that +the war would be over by 1922. + +Nov. 3.--Offered to teach me auction-bridge. + +Nov. 4.--Asked me whether I could play "shove ha'penny." + +Nov. 10.--Lieut. True Born gave one of the regimental horses a riding- +lesson. Came home grumpy and went to bed early. + +Nov. 13.--Another riding-lesson. Over-heard him asking one of the +maids whether there was such a thing as a water-bed in the house. + +Nov. 17.--Complained bitterly of horse-copers. Said that his poor mount +was discovered to be suffering from saddle-soreness, broken wind, +splints, weak hocks, and two bones of the neck out of place. + +Dec. 9.--7 p.m.--One of last year's billets, Private Merited, on leave +from a gunnery course, called to see me and to find out whether his old +bed had improved since last year. Left his motor-bike in the garage, and +the smell in front of the dining-room window. + +8 to 12 p.m.--Sat with Private Merited, listening to Lieut. True Born on +the mistakes of Wellington. + +12.5 a.m.--Rose to go to bed. Was about to turn out gas in hall when I +discovered the lieutenant standing with his face to the wall playing pat- +a-cake with it. Gave him three-parts of a tumbler of brandy. Said he +felt better and went upstairs. Arrived in his bed-room, he looked about +him carefully, and then, with a superb sweep of his left arm, swept the +best Chippendale looking-glass in the family off the dressing table and +dived face down-wards to the floor, missing death and the corner of the +chest of drawers by an inch. + +12:15 a.m.--Rolled him on to his back and got his feet on the bed. They +fell off again as soon as they were cleaner than the quilt. The +lieutenant, startled by the crash, opened his eyes and climbed into bed +unaided. + +12.20 a.m.--Sent Private Merited for the M.O., Captain Geranium. + +12.25 a.m.--Mixed a dose of brandy and castor-oil in a tumbler. Am told +it slips down like an oyster that way--bad oyster, I should think. +Lieut. True Born jibbed. Reminded him that England expects that every +man will take his castor-oil. Reply unprintable. Apologized a moment +later. Said that his mind was wandering and that he thought he was a +colonel. Reassured him. + +12.40 a.m.--Private Merited returned with the M.O. Latter nicely dressed +in musical-comedy pyjamas of ravishing hue, and great-coat, with rose- +tinted feet thrust into red morocco slippers. Held consultation and +explained my treatment. M.O. much impressed, anxious to know whether I +was a doctor. Told him "No," but that I knew all the ropes. First give +patient castor-oil, then diet him and call every day to make sure that he +doesn't like his food. After that, if he shows signs of getting well too +soon, give him a tonic. . . . M.O. stuffy. + +Dec. 10.--M.O. diagnosed attack as due to something which True Born +believes to be tobacco, with which he disinfects the house, the +mess-sheds, and the streets of Berkhamsted. + +Dec. 11.--True Born, shorn of thirteen pipes a day out of sixteen, +disparages the whole race of M.O.'s. + +Dec. 14.--He obtains leave to attend wedding of a great-aunt and +ransacks London for a specialist who advocates strong tobacco. + +Dec. 15.--He classes specialists with M.O.'s. Is surprised (and +apparently disappointed) that, so far, the breaking of the looking-glass +has brought me no ill-luck. Feel somewhat uneasy myself until glass is +repaired by local cabinet-maker. + +Jan. 10, 1917.--Lieut. True Born starts to break in another horse. + +Feb. 1.--Horse broken. + +March 3.--Running short of tobacco, go to my billet's room and try a pipe +of his. Take all the remedies except the castor-oil. + +April 4, 8.30 a.m.--Awakened by an infernal crash and discover that my +poor looking-glass is in pieces again on the floor. True Born explains +that its position, between the open door and the open window, was too +much for it. Don't believe a word of it. Shall believe to my dying day +that it burst in a frantic but hopeless attempt to tell Lieut. True Born +the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. + +April 6.--The lieutenant watching for some sign of misfortune to me. +Says that I can't break a mirror twice without ill-luck following it. +Me! + +April 9.--Lieut. True Born comes up to me with a face full of conflicting +emotions. "Your ill-luck has come at last," he says with gloomy +satisfaction. "We go under canvas on the 23rd. You are losing me!" + + + + +THE SUBSTITUTE + +The night watchman had just returned to the office fire after leaving it +to attend a ring at the wharf bell. He sat for some time puffing +fiercely at his pipe and breathing heavily. + +"Boys!" he said, at last. "That's the third time this week, and yet if I +was to catch one and skin 'im alive I suppose I should get into trouble +over it. Even 'is own father and mother would make a fuss, most like. +Some people have boys, and other people 'ave the trouble of 'em. Our +street's full of 'em, and the way they carry on would make a monkey-'ouse +ashamed of itself. The man next door to me's got seven of 'em, and when +I spoke to 'im friendly about it over a pint one night, he put the blame +on 'is wife. + +"The worst boy I ever knew used to be office-boy in this 'ere office, and +I can't understand now why I wasn't 'ung for him. Undersized little chap +he was, with a face the colour o' bad pie-crust, and two little black +eyes like shoe-buttons. To see 'im with his little white cuffs, and a +stand-up collar, and a little black bow, and a little bowler-'at, was +enough to make a cat laugh. I told 'im so one day, and arter that we +knew where we was. Both of us. + +"By rights he ought to 'ave left the office at six--just my time for +coming on. As it was, he used to stay late, purtending to work 'ard so +as to get a rise. Arter all the clerks 'ad gorn 'ome he used to sit +perched up on a stool yards too 'igh for him, with one eye on the ledger +and the other looking through the winder at me. I remember once going +off for 'arf a pint, and when I come back I found 'im with a policeman, +two carmen, and all the hands off of the Maid Marian, standing on the +edge of the jetty, waiting for me to come up. He said that, not finding +me on the wharf, 'e made sure that I must 'ave tumbled overboard, as he +felt certain that I wouldn't neglect my dooty while there was breath in +my body; but 'e was sorry to find 'e was mistook. He stood there talking +like a little clergyman, until one of the carmen knocked his 'at over 'is +eyes, and then he forgot 'imself for a bit. + +"Arter that I used to wait until he 'ad gorn afore I 'ad my arf-pint. I +didn't want my good name taken away, and I had to be careful, and many's +the good arf-pint I 'ad to refuse because that little imitation monkey +was sitting in the office drawing faces on 'is blotting-paper. But +sometimes it don't matter 'ow careful you are, you make a mistake. + +"There was a little steamer, called the Eastern Monarch, used to come up +here in them days, once a week. Fat little tub she was, with a crew o' +fattish old men, and a skipper that I didn't like. He'd been in the +coasting trade all 'is life, while I've knocked about all over the world, +but to hear 'im talk you'd think he knew more about things than I did. + +"Eddication, Bill,' he ses one evening, 'that's the thing! You can't +argufy without it; you only talk foolish, like you are doing now.' + +"'There's eddication and there's common sense,' I ses. 'Some people 'as +one and some people 'as the other. Give me common sense.' + +"'That's wot you want,' he ses, nodding. + +"'And, o' course,' I ses, looking at 'im, 'there's some people 'asn't got +either one or the other.' + +"The office-boy came out of the office afore he could think of an answer, +and the pair of 'em stood there talking to show off their cleverness, +till their tongues ached. I took up my broom and went on sweeping, and +they was so busy talking long words they didn't know the meaning of to +each other that they was arf choked with dust afore they noticed it. +When they did notice it they left off using long words, and the skipper +tried to hurt my feelings with a few short ones 'e knew. + +"'It's no good wasting your breath on 'im,' ses the boy. 'You might as +well talk to a beer-barrel.' + +"He went off, dusting 'imself down with his little pocket-'ankercher, and +arter the skipper 'ad told me wot he'd like to do, only he was too sorry +for me to do it, 'e went back to the ship to put on a clean collar, and +went off for the evening. + +"He always used to go off by hisself of a evening, and I used to wonder +'ow he passed the time. Then one night I found out. + +"I had just come out of the Bear's Head, and stopped to look round afore +going back to the wharf, when I see a couple o' people standing on the +swing-bridge saying 'Good-bye' to each other. One of 'em was a man and +the other wasn't. + +"'Evening, cap'n,' I ses, as he came towards me, and gave a little start. +'I didn't know you 'ad brought your missis up with you this trip.' + +"'Evening, Bill,' he ses, very peaceful. 'Wot a lovely evening!' + +"'Bee-utiful!' I ses. + +"'So fresh,' ses the skipper, sniffing in some of the air. + +"'Makes you feel quite young agin,' I ses. + +"He didn't say nothing to that, except to look at me out of the corner of +'is eye; and stepping on to the wharf had another look at the sky to +admire it, and then went aboard his ship. If he 'ad only stood me a +pint, and trusted me, things might ha' turned out different. + +"Quite by chance I happened to be in the Bear's Head a week arterwards, +and, quite by chance, as I came out I saw the skipper saying 'Good-bye' +on the bridge agin. He seemed to be put out about something, and when I +said 'Wot a lovely evening it would be if only it wasn't raining 'ard!' +he said something about knocking my 'ead off. + +"'And you keep your nose out o' my bisness,' he ses, very fierce. + +"'Your bisness!' I ses. 'Wot bisness?' + +"'There's some people as might like to know that you leave the wharf to +look arter itself while you're sitting in a pub swilling gallons and +gallons o' beer,' he ses, in a nasty sort o' way. 'Live and let live, +that's my motter." + +"'I don't know wot you're talking about,' I ses, 'but it don't matter +anyways. I've got a clear conscience; that's the main thing. I'm as +open as the day, and there's nothing about me that I'd mind anybody +knowing. Wot a pity it is everybody can't say the same!' + +"I didn't see 'im saying 'Good-bye' the next week or the week arter that +either, but the third week, arter just calling in at the Bear's Head, I +strolled on casual-like and got as far as the bottom of Tower Hill afore +I remembered myself. Turning the corner, I a'most fell over the skipper, +wot was right in the fair way, shaking 'ands with his lady-friend under +the lamp-post. Both of 'em started, and I couldn't make up my mind which +gave me the most unpleasant look. + +"'Peep-bo!' I ses, cheerful-like. + +"He stood making a gobbling noise at me, like a turkey. + +"'Give me quite a start, you did,' I ses. 'I didn't dream of you being +there.' + +"'Get off!' he ses, spluttering. 'Get off, afore I tear you limb from +limb! 'Ow dare you follow me about and come spying round corners at me? +Wot d'ye mean by it?' + +"I stood there with my arms folded acrost my chest, as calm as a +cucumber. The other party stood there watching us, and wot 'e could 'ave +seen in her, I can't think. She was dressed more like a man than a +woman, and it would have taken the good looks of twenty like her to 'ave +made one barmaid. I stood looking at 'er like a man in a dream. + +"'Well, will you know me agin?' she ses, in a nasty cracked sort of +voice. + +"'I could pick you out of a million,' I ses--'if I wanted to.' + +"'Clear out!' ses the skipper. 'Clear out! And thank your stars there's +a lady present.' + +"'Don't take no notice of 'im, Captain Pratt,' ses the lady. 'He's +beneath you. You only encourage people like that by taking notice of +'em. Good-bye.' + +"She held out her 'and, and while the skipper was shaking it I began to +walk back to the wharf. I 'adn't gorn far afore I heard 'im coming up +behind me, and next moment 'e was walking alongside and saying things to +try and make me lose my temper. + +"'Ah, it's a pity your pore missis can't 'ear you!' I ses. 'I expect she +thinks you are stowed away in your bunk dreaming of 'er, instead of +saying things about a face as don't belong to you.' + +"'You mind your bisness,' he ses, shouting. 'And not so much about my +missis! D'ye hear? Wot's it got to do with you? Who asked you to shove +your oar in?' + +"'You're quite mistook,' I ses, very calm. 'I'd no idea that there was +anything on as shouldn't be. I was never more surprised in my life. If +anybody 'ad told me, I shouldn't 'ave believed 'em. I couldn't. Knowing +you, and knowing 'ow respectable you 'ave always purtended to be, and +also and likewise that you ain't no chicken----' + +"I thought 'e was going to 'ave a fit. He 'opped about, waving his arms +and stuttering and going on in such a silly way that I didn't like to be +seen with 'im. Twice he knocked my 'at off, and arter telling him wot +would 'appen if 'e did it agin, I walked off and left him. + +"Even then 'e wasn't satisfied, and arter coming on to the wharf and +following me up and down like a little dog, he got in front of me and +told me some more things he 'ad thought of. + +"'If I catch you spying on me agin,' he ses, 'you'll wish you'd never +been born!' + +"'You get aboard and 'ave a quiet sleep,' I ses. 'You're wandering in +your mind.' + +"'The lady you saw me with,' he ses, looking at me very fierce, 'is a +friend o' mine that I meet sometimes for the sake of her talk.' + +"'Talk!' I ses, staring at 'im. 'Talk! Wot, can't one woman talk enough +for you? Is your missis dumb? or wot?' + +"'You don't understand,' he ses, cocking up 'is nose at me. 'She's a +interleckshal woman; full of eddication and information. When my missis +talks, she talks about the price o' things and says she must 'ave more +money. Or else she talks about things I've done, or sometimes things I +'aven't done. It's all one to her. There's no pleasure in that sort o' +talk. It don't help a man.' + +"'I never 'eard of any talk as did,' I ses. + +"'I don't suppose you did,' he ses, sneering-like. 'Now, to-night, fust +of all, we talked about the House of Lords and whether it ought to be +allowed; and arter that she gave me quite a little lecture on insecks.' + +"'It don't seem proper to me,' I ses. 'I 'ave spoke to my wife about 'em +once or twice, but I should no more think of talking about such things to +a single lady----' + +"He began to jump about agin as if I'd bit 'im, and he 'ad so much to say +about my 'ed and blocks of wood that I pretty near lost my temper. I +should ha' lost it with some men, but 'e was a very stiff-built chap and +as hard as nails. + +"'Beer's your trouble,' he ses, at last. 'Fust of all you put it down, +and then it climbs up and soaks wot little brains you've got. Wot you +want is a kind friend to prevent you from getting it.' + +"I don't know wot it was, but I 'ad a sort of sinking feeling inside as +'e spoke, and next evening, when I saw 'im walk to the end of the jetty +with the office-boy and stand there talking to 'im with his 'and on his +shoulder, it came on worse than ever. And I put two and two together +when the guv'nor came up to me next day, and, arter talking about 'dooty' +and 'ow easy it was to get night-watchmen, mentioned in 'a off-'and sort +of way that, if I left the wharf at all between six and six, I could stay +away altogether. + +"I didn't answer 'im a word. I might ha' told 'im that there was plenty +of people arter me ready to give me double the money, but I knew he could +never get anybody to do their dooty by the wharf like I 'ad done, so I +kept quiet. It's the way I treat my missis nowadays, and it pays; in the +old days I used to waste my breath answering 'er back. + +"I wouldn't ha' minded so much if it 'adn't ha' been for that boy. He +used to pass me, as 'e went off of a evening, with a little sly smile on +'is ugly little face, and sometimes when I was standing at the gate he'd +give a sniff or two and say that he could smell beer, and he supposed it +came from the Bear's Head. + +"It was about three weeks arter the guv'nor 'ad forgot 'imself, and I was +standing by the gate one evening, when I saw a woman coming along +carrying a big bag in her 'and. I 'adn't seen 'er afore, and when she +stopped in front of me and smiled I was on my guard at once. I don't +smile at other people, and I don't expect them to smile at me. + +"'At last!' she ses, setting down 'er bag and giving me another smile. +'I thought I was never going to get 'ere." + +"I coughed and backed inside a little bit on to my own ground. I didn't +want to 'ave that little beast of a office-boy spreading tales about me. + +"'I've come up to 'ave a little fling,' she ses, smiling away harder than +ever. 'My husband don't know I'm 'ere. He thinks I'm at 'ome.' + +"I think I went back pretty near three yards. + +"'I come up by train,' she ses, nodding. + +"'Yes,' I ses, very severe, 'and wot about going back by it?' + +"'Oh, I shall go back by ship,' she ses. 'Wot time do you expect the +Eastern Monarch up?' + +"'Well,' I ses, 'ardly knowing wot to make of 'er, 'she ought to be up +this tide; but there's no reckoning on wot an old washtub with a engine +like a sewing-machine inside 'er will do.' + +"'Oh, indeed!' she ses, leaving off smiling very sudden. 'Oh, indeed! +My husband might 'ave something to say about that.' + +"'Your 'usband?' I ses. + +"'Captain Pratt,' she ses, drawing 'erself up. 'I'm Mrs. Pratt. He left +yesterday morning, and I've come up 'ere by train to give 'im a little +surprise.' + +"You might ha' knocked me down with a feather, and I stood there staring +at her with my mouth open, trying to think. + +"'Take care,' I ses at last. 'Take care as you don't give 'im too much +of a surprise!' + +"'Wot do you mean?' she ses, firing up. + +"'Nothing,' I ses. 'Nothing, only I've known 'usbands in my time as +didn't like being surprised--that's all. If you take my advice, you'll +go straight back home agin.' + +"'I'll tell 'im wot you say,' she ses, 'as soon as 'is ship comes in.' + +"That's a woman all over; the moment they get into a temper they want to +hurt somebody; and I made up my mind at once that, if anybody was going +to be 'urt, it wasn't me. And, besides, I thought it might be for the +skipper's good--in the long run. + +"I broke it to her as gentle as I could. I didn't tell 'er much, I just +gave her a few 'ints. Just enough to make her ask for more. + +"'And mind,' I ses, 'I don't want to be brought into it. If you should +'appen to take a fancy into your 'ed to wait behind a pile of empties +till the ship comes in, and then slip out and foller your 'usband and +give 'im the little surprise you spoke of, it's nothing to do with me.' + +"'I understand,' she ses, biting her lip. 'There's no need for 'im to +know that I've been on the wharf at all.' + +"I gave 'er a smile--I thought she deserved it--but she didn't smile +back. She was rather a nice-looking woman in the ordinary way, but I +could easy see 'ow temper spoils a woman's looks. She stood there giving +little shivers and looking as if she wanted to bite somebody. + +"'I'll go and hide now,' she ses. + +"'Not yet,' I ses. 'You'll 'ave to wait till that little blackbeetle in +the office 'as gorn.' 'Blackbeetle?' she ses, staring. + +"'Office-boy,' I ses. 'He'd better not see you at all. S'pose you go +off for a bit and come back when I whistle?' + +"Afore she could answer the boy came out of the office, ready to go 'ome. +He gave a little bit of a start when 'e saw me talking to a lady, and +then 'e nips down sudden, about a couple o' yards away, and begins to do +'is bootlace up. It took 'im some time, because he 'ad to undo it fust, +but 'e finished it at last, and arter a quick look at Mrs. Pratt, and one +at me that I could ha' smacked his 'ed for, 'e went off whistling and +showing 'is little cuffs. + +"I stepped out into the road and watched 'im out o' sight. Then I told +Mrs. Pratt to pick up 'er bag and foller me. + +"As it 'appened there was a big pile of empties in the corner of the +ware'ouse wall, just opposite the Eastern Monarch's berth. It might ha' +been made for the job, and, arter I 'ad tucked her away behind and given +'er a box to sit on, I picked up my broom and began to make up for lost +time. + +"She sat there as quiet as a cat watching a mouse'ole, and I was going on +with my work, stopping every now and then to look and see whether the +Monarch was in sight, when I 'appened to turn round and see the office- +boy standing on the edge of the wharf with his back to the empties, +looking down at the water. I nearly dropped my broom. + +"''Ullo!' I ses, going up to 'im. 'I thought you 'ad gorn 'ome.' + +"'I was going,' he ses, with a nasty oily little smile, 'and then it +struck me all of a sudden 'ow lonely it was for you all alone 'ere, and I +come back to keep you company.' + +"He winked at something acrost the river as 'e spoke, and I stood there +thinking my 'ardest wot was the best thing to be done. I couldn't get +Mrs. Pratt away while 'e was there; besides which I felt quite sartain +she wouldn't go. The only 'ope I 'ad was that he'd get tired of spying +on me and go away before he found out she was 'iding on the wharf. + +"I walked off in a unconcerned way--not too far--and, with one eye on 'im +and the other on where Mrs. Pratt was 'iding, went on with my work. +There's nothing like 'ard work when a man is worried, and I was a'most +forgetting my troubles, when I looked up and saw the Monarch coming up +the river. + +"She turned to come into 'er berth, with the skipper shouting away on the +bridge and making as much fuss as if 'e was berthing a liner. I helped +to make 'er fast, and the skipper, arter 'e had 'ad a good look round to +see wot 'e could find fault with, went below to clean 'imself. + +"He was up agin in about ten minutes, with a clean collar and a clean +face, and a blue neck-tie that looked as though it 'ad got yeller +measles. Good temper 'e was in, too, and arter pulling the office-boy's +ear, gentle, as 'e was passing, he stopped for a moment to 'ave a word +with 'im. + +"'Bit late, ain't you?' he ses. + +"'I've been keeping a eye on the watchman,' ses the boy. 'He works +better when 'e knows there's somebody watching 'im.' + +"'Look 'ere!' I ses. 'You take yourself off; I've had about enough of +you. You take your little face 'ome and ask your mother to wipe its +nose. Strickly speaking, you've no right to be on the wharf at all at +this time.' + +"'I've as much right as other people,' he ses, giving me a wicked look. +'I've got more right than some people, p'r'aps.' + +"He stooped down deliberate and, picking up a bit o' coke from the 'eap +by the crane, pitched it over at the empties. + +"'Stop that!' I ses, shouting at 'im. + +"'What for?' 'e ses, shying another piece. 'Why shouldn't I?' + +"'Cos I won't 'ave it,' I ses. 'D'ye hear? Stop it!' + +"I rushed at 'im as he sent another piece over, and for the next two or +three minutes 'e was dodging me and chucking coke at the empties, with +the fool of a skipper standing by laughing, and two or three of the crew +leaning over the side and cheering 'im on. + +"'All right,' he ses, at last, dusting 'is hands together. 'I've +finished. There's no need to make such a fuss over a bit of coke.' + +"'You've wasted pretty near arf a 'undered-weight,' I ses. 'I've a good +mind to report you.' + +"'Don't do that, watchman!' he ses, in a pitiful voice. 'Don't do that! +'Ere, I tell you wot I'll do. I'll pick it all up agin.' + +"Afore I could move 'and or foot he 'ad shifted a couple o' cases out of +'is way and was in among the empties. I stood there dazed-like while two +bits o' coke came flying back past my 'ed; then I 'eard a loud whistle, +and 'e came out agin with 'is eyes rolling and 'is mouth wide open. + +"'Wot's the matter?' ses the skipper, staring at 'im. + +"'I--I--I'm sorry, watchman,' ses that beast of a boy, purtending 'e was +'ardly able to speak. 'I'd no idea----' + +"'All right,' I ses, very quick. + +"'Wot's the matter?' ses the skipper agin; and as 'e spoke it came over +me like a flash wot a false persition I was in, and wot a nasty-tempered +man 'e could be when 'e liked. + +"'Why didn't you tell me you'd got a lady-friend there?' ses the boy, +shaking his 'ed at me. 'Why, I might 'ave hit 'er with a bit o' coke, +and never forgiven myself!' + +"'Lady-friend!' ses the skipper, with a start. 'Oh, Bill, I am +surprised!' + +"My throat was so dry I couldn't 'ardly speak. 'It's my missis,' I ses, +at last. + +"'Your missis?' ses the skipper. 'Woes she 'iding behind there for?' + +"'She--she's shy,' I ses. 'Always was, all 'er life. She can't bear +other people. She likes to be alone with me.' + +"'Oh, watchman!' ses the boy. 'I wonder where you expect to go to?' + +"'Missis my grandmother!' ses the skipper, with a wink. 'I'm going to +'ave a peep.' + +"'Stand back!' I ses, pushing 'im off. 'I don't spy on you, and I don't +want you to come spying on me. You get off! D'ye hear me? Get off!' + +"We had a bit of a struggle, till my foot slipped, and while I was waving +my arms and trying to get my balance back 'e made a dash for the empties. +Next moment he was roaring like a mad bull that 'ad sat down in a +sorsepan of boiling water, and rushing back agin to kill me. + +"I believe that if it 'adn't ha' been for a couple o' lightermen wot 'ad +just come on to the jetty from their skiff, and two of his own 'ands, +he'd ha' done it. Crazy with passion 'e was, and it was all the four of +'em could do to hold 'im. Every now and then he'd get a yard nearer to +me, and then they'd pull 'im back a couple o' yards and beg of 'im to +listen to reason and 'ear wot I 'ad to say. And as soon as I started and +began to tell 'em about 'is lady-friend he broke out worse than ever. +People acrost the river must ha' wondered wot was 'appening. There was +two lightermen, two sailormen, me and the skipper, and Mrs. Pratt all +talking at once, and nobody listening but the office-boy. And in the +middle of it all the wicket was pushed open and the 'ed of the lady wot +all the trouble was about peeped in, and drew back agin. + +"'There you are!' I ses, shouting my 'ardest. 'There she is. That's the +lady I was telling you about. Now, then: put 'em face to face and clear +my character. Don't let 'er escape.' + +"One o' the lightermen let go o' the skipper and went arter 'er, and, +just as I was giving the other three a helping 'and, 'e came back with +'er. Mrs. Pratt caught 'er breath, and as for the skipper, 'e didn't +know where to look, as the saying is. I just saw the lady give 'im one +quick look, and then afore I could dream of wot was coming, she rushes up +to me and flings 'er long, bony arms round my neck. + +"'Why, William!' she ses, 'wot's the matter? Why didn't you meet me? +Didn't you get my letter? Or 'ave you ceased to care for me?" + +"'Let go!' I ses, struggling. 'Let go! D'ye 'ear? Wot d'ye mean by it? +You've got 'old of the wrong one.' + +"'Oh, 'William!' she ses, arf strangling me. ''Ow can you talk to me like +that? Where's your 'art?' + +"I never knew a woman so strong. I don't suppose she'd ever 'ad the +chance of getting 'er arms round a man's neck afore, and she hung on to +me as if she'd never let go. And all the time I was trying to explain +things to them over 'er shoulder I could see they didn't believe a word I +was saying. One o' the lightermen said I was a 'wonder,' and the other +said I was a 'fair cough-drop.' Me! + +"She got tired of it at last, but by that time I was so done up I +couldn't say a word. I just dropped on to a box and sat there getting my +breath back while the skipper forgave 'is wife for 'er unjust suspicions +of 'im--but told 'er not to do it agin--and the office-boy was saying I'd +surprised even 'im. The last I saw of the lady-friend, the two +lightermen was helping 'er to walk to the gate, and the two sailormen was +follering 'er up behind, carrying 'er pocket-'ankercher and upberella." + + + + +STRIKING HARD + +"You've what?" demanded Mrs. Porter, placing the hot iron carefully on +its stand and turning a heated face on the head of the family. + +"Struck," repeated Mr. Porter; "and the only wonder to me is we've stood +it so long as we have. If I was to tell you all we've 'ad to put up with +I don't suppose you'd believe me." + +"Very likely," was the reply. "You can keep your fairy-tales for them +that like 'em. They're no good to me." + +"We stood it till flesh and blood could stand it no longer," declared her +husband, "and at last we came out, shoulder to shoulder, singing. The +people cheered us, and one of our leaders made 'em a speech." + +"I should have liked to 'ave heard the singing," remarked his wife. "If +they all sang like you, it must ha' been as good as a pantermime! Do you +remember the last time you went on strike?" + +"This is different," said Mr. Porter, with dignity. + +"All our things went, bit by bit," pursued his wife, "all the money we +had put by for a rainy day, and we 'ad to begin all over again. What are +we going to live on? O' course, you might earn something by singing in +the street; people who like funny faces might give you something! Why +not go upstairs and put your 'ead under the bed-clothes and practise a +bit?" + +Mr. Porter coughed. "It'll be all right," he said, confidently. "Our +committee knows what it's about; Bert Robinson is one of the best +speakers I've ever 'eard. If we don't all get five bob a week more I'll +eat my 'ead." + +"It's the best thing you could do with it," snapped his wife. She took +up her iron again, and turning an obstinate back to his remarks resumed +her work. + +Mr. Porter lay long next morning, and, dressing with comfortable +slowness, noticed with pleasure that the sun was shining. Visions of a +good breakfast and a digestive pipe, followed by a walk in the fresh air, +passed before his eyes as he laced his boots. Whistling cheerfully he +went briskly downstairs. + +It was an October morning, but despite the invigorating chill in the air +the kitchen-grate was cold and dull. Herring-bones and a disorderly +collection of dirty cups and platters graced the table. Perplexed and +angry, he looked around for his wife, and then, opening the back-door, +stood gaping with astonishment. The wife of his bosom, who should have +had a bright fire and a good breakfast waiting for him, was sitting on a +box in the sunshine, elbows on knees and puffing laboriously at a +cigarette. + +"Susan!" he exclaimed. + +Mrs. Porter turned, and, puffing out her lips, blew an immense volume of +smoke. "Halloa!" she said, carelessly. + +"Wot--wot does this mean?" demanded her husband. + +Mrs. Porter smiled with conscious pride. "I made it come out of my nose +just now," she replied. "At least, some of it did, and I swallowed the +rest. Will it hurt me?" + +"Where's my breakfast?" inquired the other, hotly. "Why ain't the +kitchen-fire alight? Wot do you think you're doing of?" + +"I'm not doing anything," said his wife, with an aggrieved air. "I'm on +strike." + +Mr. Porter reeled against the door-post. "Wot!" he stammered. "On +strike? Nonsense! You can't be." + +"O, yes, I can," retorted Mrs. Porter, closing one eye and ministering to +it hastily with the corner of her apron. "Not 'aving no Bert Robinson to +do it for me, I made a little speech all to myself, and here I am." + +She dropped her apron, replaced the cigarette, and, with her hands on her +plump knees, eyes him steadily. + +"But--but this ain't a factory," objected the dismayed man; "and, besides +--I won't 'ave it!" + +Mrs. Porter laughed--a fat, comfortable laugh, but with a touch of +hardness in it. + +"All right, mate," she said, comfortably. "What are you out on strike +for?" + +"Shorter hours and more money," said Mr. Porter, glaring at her. + +His wife nodded. "So am I," she said. "I wonder who gets it first?" + +She smiled agreeably at the bewildered Mr. Porter, and, extracting a +paper packet of cigarettes from her pocket, lit a fresh one at the stub +of the first. + +"That's the worst of a woman," said her husband, avoiding her eye and +addressing a sanitary dustbin of severe aspect; "they do things without +thinking first. That's why men are superior; before they do a thing they +look at it all round, and upside down, and--and--make sure it can be +done. Now, you get up in a temper this morning, and the first thing you +do--not even waiting to get my breakfast ready first--is to go on strike. +If you'd thought for two minutes you'd see as 'ow it's impossible for you +to go on strike for more than a couple of hours or so." + +"Why?" inquired Mrs. Porter. + +"Kids," replied her husband, triumphantly. "They'll be coming 'ome from +school soon, won't they? And they'll be wanting their dinner, won't +they?" + +"That's all right," murmured the other, vaguely. + +"After which, when night comes," pursued Mr. Porter, "they'll 'ave to be +put to bed. In the morning they'll 'ave to be got up and washed and +dressed and given their breakfast and sent off to school. Then there's +shopping wot must be done, and beds wot must be made." + +"I'll make ours," said his wife, decidedly. "For my own sake." + +"And wot about the others?" inquired Mr. Porter. + +"The others'll be made by the same party as washes the children, and +cooks their dinner for 'em, and puts 'em to bed, and cleans the 'ouse," +was the reply. + +"I'm not going to have your mother 'ere," exclaimed Mr. Porter, with +sudden heat. "Mind that!" + +"I don't want her," said Mrs. Porter. "It's a job for a strong, healthy +man, not a pore old thing with swelled legs and short in the breath." + +"Strong--'ealthy--man!" repeated her husband, in a dazed voice. +"Strong--'eal---- Wot are you talking about?" + +Mrs. Porter beamed on him. "You," she said, sweetly. + +There was a long silence, broken at last by a firework display of +expletives. Mrs. Porter, still smiling, sat unmoved. + +"You may smile!" raved the indignant Mr. Porter. "You may sit there +smiling and smoking like a--like a man, but if you think that I'm going +to get the meals ready, and soil my 'ands with making beds and washing-up, +you're mistook. There's some 'usbands I know as would set about you!" + +Mrs. Porter rose. "Well, I can't sit here gossiping with you all day," +she said, entering the house. + +"Wot are you going to do?" demanded her husband, following her. + +"Going to see Aunt Jane and 'ave a bit o' dinner with her," was the +reply. "And after that I think I shall go to the 'pictures.' If you 'ave +bloaters for dinner be very careful with little Jemmy and the bones." + +"I forbid you to leave this 'ouse!" said Mr. Porter, in a thrilling +voice. "If you do you won't find nothing done when you come home, and +all the kids dirty and starving." + +"Cheerio!" said Mrs. Porter. + +Arrayed in her Sunday best she left the house half an hour later. A +glance over her shoulder revealed her husband huddled up in a chair in +the dirty kitchen, gazing straight before him at the empty grate. + +He made a hearty breakfast at a neighbouring coffee-shop, and, returning +home, lit the fire and sat before it, smoking. The return of the four +children from school, soon after midday, found him still wrestling with +the difficulties of the situation. His announcement that their mother +was out and that there would be no dinner was received at first in +stupefied silence. Then Jemmy, opening his mouth to its widest extent, +acted as conductor to an all-too-willing chorus. + +The noise was unbearable, and Mr. Porter said so. Pleased with the +tribute, the choir re-doubled its efforts, and Mr. Porter, vociferating +orders for silence, saw only too clearly the base advantage his wife had +taken of his affection for his children. He took some money from his +pocket and sent the leading treble out marketing, after which, with the +assistance of a soprano aged eight, he washed up the breakfast things and +placed one of them in the dustbin. + +The entire family stood at his elbow as he cooked the dinner, and +watched, with bated breath, his frantic efforts to recover a sausage +which had fallen out of the frying-pan into the fire. A fourfold sigh of +relief heralded its return to the pan. + +"Mother always--" began the eldest boy. + +Mr. Porter took his scorched fingers out of his mouth and smacked the +critic's head. + +The dinner was not a success. Portions of half-cooked sausages returned +to the pan, and coming back in the guise of cinders failed to find their +rightful owners. + +"Last time we had sausages," said the eight-year-old Muriel, "they melted +in your mouth." Mr. Porter glowered at her. + +"Instead of in the fire," said the eldest boy, with a mournful snigger. + +"If I get up to you, my lad," said the harassed Mr. Porter, "you'll know +it! Pity you don't keep your sharpness for your lessons! Wot country is +Africa in?" + +"Why, Africa's a continent!" said the startled youth. + +"Jes so," said his father; "but wot I'm asking you is: wot country is it +in?" + +"Asia," said the reckless one, with a side-glance at Muriel. + +"And why couldn't you say so before?" demanded Mr. Porter, sternly. +"Now, you go to the sink and give yourself a thorough good wash. And +mind you come straight home from school. There's work to be done." + +He did some of it himself after the children had gone, and finished up +the afternoon with a little shopping, in the course of which he twice +changed his grocer and was threatened with an action for slander by his +fishmonger. He returned home with his clothes bulging, although a couple +of eggs in the left-hand coat-pocket had done their best to accommodate +themselves to his figure. + +He went to bed at eleven o'clock, and at a quarter past, clad all too +lightly for the job, sped rapidly downstairs to admit his wife. + +"Some 'usbands would 'ave let you sleep on the doorstep all night," he +said, crisply. + +"I know they would," returned his wife, cheerfully. "That's why I +married you. I remember the first time I let you come 'ome with me, +mother ses: 'There ain't much of 'im, Susan,' she ses; 'still, arf a loaf +is better than--'" + +The bedroom-door slammed behind the indignant Mr. Porter, and the three +lumps and a depression which had once been a bed received his quivering +frame again. With the sheet obstinately drawn over his head he turned a +deaf ear to his wife's panegyrics on striking and her heartfelt tribute +to the end of a perfect day. Even when standing on the cold floor while +she remade the bed he maintained an attitude of unbending dignity, only +relaxing when she smote him light-heartedly with the bolster. In a few +ill-chosen words he expressed his opinion of her mother and her +deplorable methods of bringing up her daughters. + +He rose early next morning, and, after getting his own breakfast, put on +his cap and went out, closing the street-door with a bang that awoke the +entire family and caused the somnolent Mrs. Porter to open one eye for +the purpose of winking with it. Slowly, as became a man of leisure, he +strolled down to the works, and, moving from knot to knot of his +colleagues, discussed the prospects of victory. Later on, with a little +natural diffidence, he drew Mr. Bert Robinson apart and asked his advice +upon a situation which was growing more and more difficult. + +"I've got my hands pretty full as it is, you know," said Mr. Robinson, +hastily. + +"I know you 'ave, Bert," murmured the other. "But, you see, she told me +last night she's going to try and get some of the other chaps' wives to +join 'er, so I thought I ought to tell you." + +Mr. Robinson started. "Have you tried giving her a hiding?" he inquired. + +Mr. Porter shook his head. "I daren't trust myself," he replied. "I +might go too far, once I started." + +"What about appealing to her better nature?" inquired the other. + +"She ain't got one," said the unfortunate. "Well, I'm sorry for you," +said Mr. Robinson, "but I'm busy. I've got to see a Labour-leader this +afternoon, and two reporters, and this evening there's the meeting. Try +kindness first, and if that don't do, lock her up in her bedroom and keep +her on bread and water." + +He moved off to confer with his supporters, and Mr. Porter, after +wandering aimlessly about for an hour or two, returned home at mid-day +with a faint hope that his wife might have seen the error of her ways and +provided dinner for him. He found the house empty and the beds unmade. +The remains of breakfast stood on the kitchen-table, and a puddle of cold +tea decorated the floor. The arrival of the children from school, hungry +and eager, completed his discomfiture. + +For several days he wrestled grimly with the situation, while Mrs. +Porter, who had planned out her week into four days of charing, two of +amusement, and Sunday in bed, looked on with smiling approval. She even +offered to give him a little instruction--verbal--in scrubbing the +kitchen-floor. + +Mr. Porter, who was on his knees at the time, rose slowly to his full +height, and, with a superb gesture, emptied the bucket, which also +contained a scrubbing-brush and lump of soap, into the back-yard. Then +he set off down the street in quest of a staff. + +He found it in the person of Maudie Stevens, aged fourteen, who lived a +few doors lower down. Fresh from school the week before, she cheerfully +undertook to do the housework and cooking, and to act as nursemaid in her +spare time. Her father, on his part, cheerfully under-took to take care +of her wages for her, the first week's, payable in advance, being banked +the same evening at the Lord Nelson. + +It was another mouth to feed, but the strike-pay was coming in very well, +and Mr. Porter, relieved from his unmanly tasks, walked the streets a +free man. Beds were made without his interference, meals were ready +(roughly) at the appointed hour, and for the first time since the strike +he experienced satisfaction in finding fault with the cook. The +children's content was not so great, Maudie possessing a faith in the +virtues of soap and water that they made no attempt to share. They were +greatly relieved when their mother returned home after spending a couple +of days with Aunt Jane. + +"What's all this?" she demanded, as she entered the kitchen, followed by +a lady-friend. + +"What's all what?" inquired Mr. Porter, who was sitting at dinner with +the family. + +"That," said his wife, pointing at the cook-general. + +Mr. Porter put down his knife and fork. "Got 'er in to help," he +replied, uneasily. + +"Do you hear that?" demanded his wife, turning to her friend, Mrs. +Gorman. "Oh, these masters!" + +"Ah!" said her friend, vaguely. + +"A strike-breaker!" said Mrs. Porter, rolling her eyes. + +"Shame!" said Mrs. Gorman, beginning to understand. + +"Coming after my job, and taking the bread out of my mouth," continued +Mrs. Porter, fluently. "Underselling me too, I'll be bound. That's what +comes of not having pickets." + +"Unskilled labour," said Mrs. Gorman, tightening her lips and shaking her +head. + +"A scab!" cried Mrs. Porter, wildly. "A scab!" + +"Put her out," counselled her friend. + +"Put her out!" repeated Mrs. Porter, in a terrible voice. "Put her out! +I'll tear her limb from limb! I'll put her in the copper and boil her!" + +Her voice was so loud and her appearance so alarming that the unfortunate +Maudie, emitting three piercing shrieks, rose hastily from the table and +looked around for a way of escape. The road to the front-door was +barred, and with a final yelp that set her employer's teeth on edge she +dashed into the yard and went home via the back-fences. Housewives busy +in their kitchens looked up in amazement at the spectacle of a pair of +thin black legs descending one fence, scudding across the yard to the +accompaniment of a terrified moaning, and scrambling madly over the +other. At her own back-door Maudie collapsed on the step, and, to the +intense discomfort and annoyance of her father, had her first fit of +hysterics. + +"And the next scab that comes into my house won't get off so easy," said +Mrs. Porter to her husband. "D'you understand?" + +"If you 'ad some husbands--" began Mr. Porter, trembling with rage. + +"Yes, I know," said his wife, nodding. "Don't cry, Jemmy," she added, +taking the youngest on her knee. "Mother's only having a little game. +She and dad are both on strike for more pay and less work." + +Mr. Porter got up, and without going through the formality of saying +good-bye to the hard-featured Mrs. Gorman, put on his cap and went out. +Over a couple of half-pints taken as a sedative, he realized the growing +seriousness of his position. + +In a dull resigned fashion he took up his household duties again, made +harder now than before by the scandalous gossip of the aggrieved Mr. +Stevens. The anonymous present of a much-worn apron put the finishing +touch to his discomfiture; and the well-meant offer of a fair neighbour +to teach him how to shake a mat without choking himself met with a +reception that took her breath away. + +It was a surprise to him one afternoon to find that his wife had so far +unbent as to tidy up the parlour. Ornaments had been dusted and polished +and the carpet swept. She had even altered the position of the +furniture. The table had been pushed against the wall, and the easy- +chair, with its back to the window, stood stiffly confronting six or +seven assorted chairs, two of which at least had been promoted from a +lower sphere. + +"It's for the meeting," said Muriel, peeping in. + +"Meeting?" repeated her father, in a dazed voice. + +"Strike-meetings," was the reply. "Mrs. Gorman and some other ladies are +coming at four o'clock. Didn't mother tell you?" + +Mr. Porter, staring helplessly at the row of chairs, shook his head. + +"Mrs. Evans is coming," continued Muriel, in a hushed voice--"the lady +what punched Mr. Brown because he kept Bobbie Evans in one day. He ain't +been kept in since. I wish you----" + +She stopped suddenly, and, held by her father's gaze, backed slowly out +of the room. Mr. Porter, left with the chairs, stood regarding them +thoughtfully. Their emptiness made an appeal that no right-minded man +could ignore. He put his hand over his mouth and his eyes watered. + +He spent the next half-hour in issuing invitations, and at half-past +three every chair was filled by fellow-strikers. Three cans of beer, +clay pipes, and a paper of shag stood on the table. Mr. Benjamin Todd, +an obese, fresh-coloured gentleman of middle age, took the easy-chair. +Glasses and teacups were filled. + +"Gentlemen," said Mr. Todd, lighting his pipe, "afore we get on to the +business of this meeting I want to remind you that there is another +meeting, of ladies, at four o'clock; so we've got to hurry up. O' +course, if it should happen that we ain't finished----" + +"Go on, Bennie!" said a delighted admirer. "I see a female 'ead peeping +in at the winder already," said a voice. + +"Let 'em peep," said Mr. Todd, benignly. "Then p'r'aps they'll be able +to see how to run a meeting." + +"There's two more 'eads," said the other. "Oh, Lord, I know I sha'n't be +able to keep a straight face!" + +"H'sh!" commanded Mr. Todd, sternly, as the street-door was heard to +open. "Be'ave yourself. As I was saying, the thing we've got to +consider about this strike----" + +The door opened, and six ladies, headed by Mrs. Porter, entered the room +in single file and ranged themselves silently along the wall. + +"Strike," proceeded Mr. Todd, who found himself gazing uneasily into the +eyes of Mrs. Gorman----"strike--er--strike----" + +"He said that before," said a stout lady, in a loud whisper; "I'm sure he +did." + +"Is," continued Mr. Todd, "that we have got to keep this--this--er--" + +"Strike," prompted the same voice. + +Mr. Todd paused, and, wiping his mouth with a red pocket-handkerchief, +sat staring straight before him. + +"I move," said Mrs. Evans, her sharp features twitching with excitement, +"that Mrs. Gorman takes the chair." + +"'Ow can I take it when he's sitting in it?" demanded that lady. + +"She's a lady that knows what she wants and how to get it," pursued Mrs. +Evans, unheeding. "She understands men--" + +"I've buried two 'usbands," murmured Mrs. Gorman, nodding. + +"And how to manage them," continued Mrs. Evans. "I move that Mrs. Gorman +takes the chair. Those in favour--" + +Mr. Todd, leaning back in his chair and gripping the arms, gazed +defiantly at a row of palms. + +"Carried unanimously!" snapped Mrs. Evans. + +Mrs. Gorman, tall and bony, advanced and stood over Mr. Todd. Strong men +held their breath. + +"It's my chair," she said, gruffly. "I've been moved into it." + +"Possession," said Mr. Todd, in as firm a voice as he could manage, "is +nine points of the law. I'm here and--" + +Mrs. Gorman turned, and, without the slightest warning, sat down suddenly +and heavily in his lap. A hum of admiration greeted the achievement. + +"Get up!" shouted the horrified Mr. Todd. "Get up!" + +Mrs. Gorman settled herself more firmly. + +"Let me get up," said Mr. Todd, panting. + +Mrs. Gorman rose, but remained in a hovering position, between which and +the chair Mr. Todd, flushed and dishevelled, extricated himself in all +haste. A shrill titter of laughter and a clapping of hands greeted his +appearance. He turned furiously on the pallid Mr. Porter. + +"What d'you mean by it?" he demanded. "Are you the master, or ain't +you? A man what can't keep order in his own house ain't fit to be called +a man. If my wife was carrying on like this----" + +"I wish I was your wife," said Mrs. Gorman, moistening her lips. + +Mr. Todd turned slowly and surveyed her. + +"I don't," he said, simply, and, being by this time near the door, faded +gently from the room. + +"Order!" cried Mrs. Gorman, thumping the arm of her chair with a large, +hard-working fist. "Take your seats, ladies." + +A strange thrill passed through the bodies of her companions and +communicated itself to the men in the chairs. There was a moment's tense +pause, and then the end man, muttering something about "going to see what +had happened to poor old Ben Todd," rose slowly and went out. His +companions, with heads erect and a look of cold disdain upon their faces, +followed him. + +It was Mr. Porter's last meeting, but his wife had several more. They +lasted, in fact, until the day, a fortnight later, when he came in with +flushed face and sparkling eyes to announce that the strike was over and +the men victorious. + +"Six bob a week more!" he said, with enthusiasm. "You see, I was right +to strike, after all." + +Mrs. Porter eyed him. "I am out for four bob a week more," she said, +calmly. + +Her husband swallowed. "You--you don't understand 'ow these things are +done," he said, at last. "It takes time. We ought to ne--negotiate." + +"All right," said Mrs. Porter, readily. "Seven shillings a week, then." + +"Let's say four and have done with it," exclaimed the other, hastily. + +And Mrs. Porter said it. + + + + +DIRTY WORK + +It was nearly high-water, and the night-watchman, who had stepped aboard +a lighter lying alongside the wharf to smoke a pipe, sat with half-closed +eyes enjoying the summer evening. The bustle of the day was over, the +wharves were deserted, and hardly a craft moved on the river. Perfumed +clouds of shag, hovering for a time over the lighter, floated lazily +towards the Surrey shore. + +"There's one thing about my job," said the night-watchman, slowly, "it's +done all alone by yourself. There's no foreman a-hollering at you and +offering you a penny for your thoughts, and no mates to run into you from +behind with a loaded truck and then ask you why you didn't look where +you're going to. From six o'clock in the evening to six o'clock next +morning I'm my own master." + +He rammed down the tobacco with an experienced forefinger and puffed +contentedly. + +People like you 'ud find it lonely (he continued, after a pause); I did +at fust. I used to let people come and sit 'ere with me of an evening +talking, but I got tired of it arter a time, and when one chap fell +overboard while 'e was showing me 'ow he put his wife's mother in 'er +place, I gave it up altogether. There was three foot o' mud in the dock +at the time, and arter I 'ad got 'im out, he fainted in my arms. + +Arter that I kept myself to myself. Say wot you like, a man's best +friend is 'imself. There's nobody else'll do as much for 'im, or let 'im +off easier when he makes a mistake. If I felt a bit lonely I used to +open the wicket in the gate and sit there watching the road, and p'r'aps +pass a word or two with the policeman. Then something 'appened one night +that made me take quite a dislike to it for a time. + +I was sitting there with my feet outside, smoking a quiet pipe, when I +'eard a bit of a noise in the distance. Then I 'eard people running and +shouts of "Stop, thief!" A man came along round the corner full pelt, +and, just as I got up, dashed through the wicket and ran on to the wharf. +I was arter 'im like a shot and got up to 'im just in time to see him +throw something into the dock. And at the same moment I 'eard the other +people run past the gate. + +"Wot's up?" I ses, collaring 'im. + +"Nothing," he ses, breathing 'ard and struggling. "Let me go." + +He was a little wisp of a man, and I shook 'im like a dog shakes a rat. +I remembered my own pocket being picked, and I nearly shook the breath +out of 'im. + +"And now I'm going to give you in charge," I ses, pushing 'im along +towards the gate. + +"Wot for?" he ses, purtending to be surprised. + +"Stealing," I ses. + +"You've made a mistake," he ses; "you can search me if you like." + +"More use to search the dock," I ses. "I see you throw it in. Now you +keep quiet, else you'll get 'urt. If you get five years I shall be all +the more pleased." + +I don't know 'ow he did it, but 'e did. He seemed to sink away between +my legs, and afore I knew wot was 'appening, I was standing upside down +with all the blood rushing to my 'ead. As I rolled over he bolted +through the wicket, and was off like a flash of lightning. + +A couple o' minutes arterwards the people wot I 'ad 'eard run past came +back agin. There was a big fat policeman with 'em--a man I'd seen afore +on the beat--and, when they 'ad gorn on, he stopped to 'ave a word with +me. + +"'Ot work," he ses, taking off his 'elmet and wiping his bald 'ead with a +large red handkerchief. "I've lost all my puff." + +"Been running?" I ses, very perlite. + +"Arter a pickpocket," he ses. "He snatched a lady's purse just as she +was stepping aboard the French boat with her 'usband. 'Twelve pounds in +it in gold, two peppermint lozenges, and a postage stamp.'" + +He shook his 'ead, and put his 'elmet on agin. + +"Holding it in her little 'and as usual," he ses. "Asking for trouble, I +call it. I believe if a woman 'ad one hand off and only a finger and +thumb left on the other, she'd carry 'er purse in it." + +He knew a'most as much about wimmen as I do. When 'is fust wife died, +she said 'er only wish was that she could take 'im with her, and she made +'im promise her faithful that 'e'd never marry agin. His second wife, +arter a long illness, passed away while he was playing hymns on the +concertina to her, and 'er mother, arter looking at 'er very hard, went +to the doctor and said she wanted an inquest. + +He went on talking for a long time, but I was busy doing a bit of 'ead- +work and didn't pay much attention to 'im. I was thinking o' twelve +pounds, two lozenges, and a postage stamp laying in the mud at the bottom +of my dock, and arter a time 'e said 'e see as 'ow I was waiting to get +back to my night's rest, and went off--stamping. + +I locked the wicket when he 'ad gorn away, and then I went to the edge of +the dock and stood looking down at the spot where the purse 'ad been +chucked in. The tide was on the ebb, but there was still a foot or two +of water atop of the mud. I walked up and down, thinking. + +I thought for a long time, and then I made up my mind. If I got the +purse and took it to the police-station, the police would share the money +out between 'em, and tell me they 'ad given it back to the lady. If I +found it and put a notice in the newspaper--which would cost money--very +likely a dozen or two ladies would come and see me and say it was theirs. +Then if I gave it to the best-looking one and the one it belonged to +turned up, there'd be trouble. My idea was to keep it--for a time--and +then if the lady who lost it came to me and asked me for it I would give +it to 'er. + +Once I had made up my mind to do wot was right I felt quite 'appy, and +arter a look up and down, I stepped round to the Bear's Head and 'ad a +couple o' goes o' rum to keep the cold out. There was nobody in there +but the landlord, and 'e started at once talking about the thief, and 'ow +he 'ad run arter him in 'is shirt-sleeves. + +"My opinion is," he ses, "that 'e bolted on one of the wharves and 'id +'imself. He disappeared like magic. Was that little gate o' yours +open?" + +"I was on the wharf," I ses, very cold. + +"You might ha' been on the wharf and yet not 'ave seen anybody come on," +he ses, nodding. + +"Wot d'ye mean?" I ses, very sharp. "Nothing," he ses. "Nothing." + +"Are you trying to take my character away?" I ses, fixing 'im with my +eye. + +"Lo' bless me, no!" he ses, staring at me. "It's no good to me." + +He sat down in 'is chair behind the bar and went straight off to sleep +with his eyes screwed up as tight as they would go. Then 'e opened +his mouth and snored till the glasses shook. I suppose I've been one of +the best customers he ever 'ad, and that's the way he treated me. For +two pins I'd ha' knocked 'is ugly 'ead off, but arter waking him up very +sudden by dropping my glass on the floor I went off back to the wharf. + +I locked up agin, and 'ad another look at the dock. The water 'ad nearly +gone and the mud was showing in patches. My mind went back to a +sailorman wot had dropped 'is watch over-board two years before, and +found it by walking about in the dock in 'is bare feet. He found it more +easy because the glass broke when he trod on it. + +The evening was a trifle chilly for June, but I've been used to roughing +it all my life, especially when I was afloat, and I went into the office +and began to take my clothes off. I took off everything but my pants, +and I made sure o' them by making braces for 'em out of a bit of string. +Then I turned the gas low, and, arter slipping on my boots, went outside. + +It was so cold that at fust I thought I'd give up the idea. The longer I +stood on the edge looking at the mud the colder it looked, but at last I +turned round and went slowly down the ladder. I waited a moment at the +bottom, and was just going to step off when I remembered that I 'ad got +my boots on, and I 'ad to go up agin and take 'em off. + +I went down very slow the next time, and anybody who 'as been down an +iron ladder with thin, cold rungs, in their bare feet, will know why, +and I had just dipped my left foot in, when the wharf-bell rang. + +I 'oped at fust that it was a runaway-ring, but it kept on, and the +longer it kept on, the worse it got. I went up that ladder agin and +called out that I was coming, and then I went into the office and just +slipped on my coat and trousers and went to the gate. + +"Wot d'you want?" I ses, opening the wicket three or four inches and +looking out at a man wot was standing there. + +"Are you old Bill?" he ses. + +"I'm the watchman," I ses, sharp-like. "Wot d'you want?" + +"Don't bite me!" he ses, purtending to draw back. "I ain't done no 'arm. +I've come round about that glass you smashed at the Bear's Head." + +"Glass!" I ses, 'ardly able to speak. + +"Yes, glass," he ses--"thing wot yer drink out of. The landlord says +it'll cost you a tanner, and 'e wants it now in case you pass away in +your sleep. He couldn't come 'imself cos he's got nobody to mind the +bar, so 'e sent me. Why! Halloa! Where's your boots? Ain't you afraid +o' ketching cold?" + +"You clear off," I ses, shouting at him. "D'ye 'ear me? Clear off while +you're safe, and you tell the landlord that next time 'e insults me I'll +smash every glass in 'is place and then sit 'im on top of 'cm! Tell 'im +if 'e wants a tanner out o' me, to come round 'imself, and see wot he +gets." + +It was a silly thing to say, and I saw it arterwards, but I was in such a +temper I 'ardly knew wot I was saying. I slammed the wicket in 'is face +and turned the key and then I took off my clothes and went down that +ladder agin. + +It seemed colder than ever, and the mud when I got fairly into it was +worse than I thought it could ha' been. It stuck to me like glue, and +every step I took seemed colder than the one before. 'Owever, when I +make up my mind to do a thing, I do it. I fixed my eyes on the place +where I thought the purse was, and every time I felt anything under my +foot I reached down and picked it up--and then chucked it away as far as +I could so as not to pick it up agin. Dirty job it was, too, and in five +minutes I was mud up to the neck, a'most. And I 'ad just got to wot I +thought was the right place, and feeling about very careful, when the +bell rang agin. + +I thought I should ha' gorn out o' my mind. It was just a little tinkle +at first, then another tinkle, but, as I stood there all in the dark and +cold trying to make up my mind to take no notice of it, it began to ring +like mad. I 'ad to go--I've known men climb over the gate afore now--and +I didn't want to be caught in that dock. + +The mud seemed stickier than ever, but I got out at last, and, arter +scraping some of it off with a bit o' stick, I put on my coat and +trousers and boots just as I was and went to the gate, with the bell +going its 'ardest all the time. + +When I opened the gate and see the landlord of the Bear's Head standing +there I turned quite dizzy, and there was a noise in my ears like the +roaring of the sea. I should think I stood there for a couple o' minutes +without being able to say a word. I could think of 'em. + +"Don't be frightened, Bill," ses the landlord. "I'm not going to eat +you." + +"He looks as if he's walking in 'is sleep," ses the fat policeman, wot +was standing near by. "Don't startle 'im." + +"He always looks like that," ses the landlord. + +I stood looking at 'im. I could speak then, but I couldn't think of any +words good enough; not with a policeman standing by with a notebook in +'is pocket. + +"Wot was you ringing my bell for?" I ses, at last. + +"Why didn't you answer it before?" ses the landlord. "D'you think I've +got nothing better to do than to stand ringing your bell for three- +quarters of an hour? Some people would report you." + +"I know my dooty," I ses; "there's no craft up to-night, and no reason +for anybody to come to my bell. If I was to open the gate every time a +parcel of overgrown boys rang my bell I should 'ave enough to do." + +"Well, I'll overlook it this time, seeing as you're an old man and +couldn't get another sleeping-in job," he ses, looking at the policeman +for him to see 'ow clever 'e was. "Wot about that tanner? That's wot +I've come for." + +"You be off," I ses, starting to shut the wicket. "You won't get no +tanner out of me." + +"All right," he ses, "I shall stand here and go on ringing the bell till +you pay up, that's all." + +He gave it another tug, and the policeman instead of locking 'im up for +it stood there laughing. + +I gave 'im the tanner. It was no use standing there arguing over a +tanner, with a purse of twelve quid waiting for me in the dock, but I +told 'im wot people thought of 'im. + +"Arf a second, watchman," ses the policeman, as I started to shut the +wicket agin. "You didn't see anything of that pickpocket, did you?" + +"I did not," I ses. + +"'Cos this gentleman thought he might 'ave come in here," ses the +policeman. + +"'Ow could he 'ave come in here without me knowing it?" I ses, firing +up. + +"Easy," ses the landlord, "and stole your boots into the bargain!" + +"He might 'ave come when your back was turned," ses the policeman, "and +if so, he might be 'iding there now. I wonder whether you'd mind me +having a look round?" + +"I tell you he ain't 'ere," I ses, very short, "but, to ease your mind, +I'll 'ave a look round myself arter you've gorn." + +The policeman shook his 'ead. "Well, o' course, I can't come in without +your permission," he ses, with a little cough, "but I 'ave an idea, that +if it was your guv'nor 'ere instead of you he'd ha' been on'y too pleased +to do anything 'e could to help the law. I'll beg his pardon tomorrow +for asking you, in case he might object." + +That settled it. That's the police all over, and that's 'ow they get +their way and do as they like. I could see 'im in my mind's eye talking +to the guv'nor, and letting out little things about broken glasses and +such-like by accident. I drew back to let 'im pass, and I was so upset +that when that little rat of a landlord follered 'im I didn't say a word. + +I stood and watched them poking and prying about the wharf as if it +belonged to 'em, with the light from the policeman's lantern flashing +about all over the place. I was shivering with cold and temper. The mud +was drying on me. + +"If you've finished 'unting for the pickpocket I'll let you out and get +on with my work," I ses, drawing myself up. + +"Good night," ses the policeman, moving off. "Good night, dear," ses the +landlord. "Mind you tuck yourself up warm." + +I lost my temper for the moment and afore I knew wot I was doing I 'ad +got hold of him and was shoving 'im towards the gate as 'ard as I could +shove. He pretty near got my coat off in the struggle, and next moment +the police-man 'ad turned his lantern on me and they was both staring at +me as if they couldn't believe their eyesight. + +"He--he's turning black!" ses the landlord. + +"He's turned black!" ses the policeman. + +They both stood there looking at me with their mouths open, and then +afore I knew wot he was up to, the policeman came close up to me and +scratched my chest with his finger-nail. + +"It's mud!" he ses. + +"You keep your nails to yourself," I ses. "It's nothing to do with you." +and I couldn't 'elp noticing the smell of it. Nobody could. And wot was +worse than all was, that the tide 'ad turned and was creeping over the +mud in the dock. + +They got tired of it at last and came back to where I was and stood there +shaking their 'eads at me. + +"If he was on the wharf 'e must 'ave made his escape while you was in the +Bear's Head," ses the policeman. + +"He was in my place a long time," ses the landlord. + +"Well, it's no use crying over spilt milk," ses the policeman. "Funny +smell about 'ere, ain't there?" he ses, sniffing, and turning to the +landlord. "Wot is it?" + +"I dunno," ses the landlord. "I noticed it while we was talking to 'im +at the gate. It seems to foller 'im about." + +"I've smelt things I like better," ses the policeman, sniffing agin. +"It's just like the foreshore when somebody 'as been stirring the mud up +a bit." + +"Unless it's a case of 'tempted suicide," he ses, looking at me very +'ard. + +"Ah!" ses the landlord. + +"There's no mud on 'is clothes," ses the policeman, looking me over with +his lantern agin. + +"He must 'ave gone in naked, but I should like to see 'is legs to make-- +All right! All right! Keep your 'air on." + +"You look arter your own legs, then," I ses, very sharp, "and mind your +own business." + +"It is my business," he ses, turning to the landlord. "Was 'e strange in +his manner at all when 'e was in your place to-night?" + +"He smashed one o' my best glasses," ses the landlord. + +"So he did," ses the policeman. "So he did. I'd forgot that. Do you +know 'im well?" + +"Not more than I can 'elp," ses the landlord. "He's been in my place a +good bit, but I never knew of any reason why 'e should try and do away +with 'imself. If he's been disappointed in love, he ain't told me +anything about it." + +I suppose that couple o' fools 'ud 'ave stood there talking about me all +night if I'd ha' let 'em, but I had about enough of it. + +"Look 'ere," I ses, "you're very clever, both of you, but you needn't +worry your 'eads about me. I've just been having a mud-bath, that's +all." + +"A mud-bath!" ses both of 'em, squeaking like a couple o' silly parrots. + +"For rheumatics," I ses. "I 'ad it some-thing cruel to-night, and I +thought that p'r'aps the mud 'ud do it good. I read about it in the +papers. There's places where you pay pounds and pounds for 'em, but, +being a pore man, I 'ad to 'ave mine on the cheap." + +The policeman stood there looking at me for a moment, and then 'e began +to laugh till he couldn't stop 'imself. + +"Love-a-duck!" he ses, at last, wiping his eyes. "I wish I'd seen it." + +"Must ha' looked like a fat mermaid," ses the landlord, wagging his silly +'ead at me. "I can just see old Bill sitting in the mud a-combing his +'air and singing." + +They 'ad some more talk o' that sort, just to show each other 'ow funny +they was, but they went off at last, and I fastened up the gate and went +into the office to clean myself up as well as I could. One comfort was +they 'adn't got the least idea of wot I was arter, and I 'ad a fancy that +the one as laughed last would be the one as got that twelve quid. + +I was so tired that I slept nearly all day arter I 'ad got 'ome, and I +'ad no sooner got back to the wharf in the evening than I see that the +landlord 'ad been busy. If there was one silly fool that asked me the +best way of making mud-pies, I should think there was fifty. Little +things please little minds, and the silly way some of 'em went on made me +feel sorry for my sects. + +By eight o'clock, 'owever, they 'ad all sheered off, and I got a broom +and began to sweep up to 'elp pass the time away until low-water. On'y +one craft 'ad come up that day--a ketch called the Peewit--and as she was +berthed at the end of the jetty she wasn't in my way at all. + +Her skipper came on to the wharf just afore ten. Fat, silly old man 'e +was, named Fogg. Always talking about 'is 'ealth and taking medicine to +do it good. He came up to me slow like, and, when 'e stopped and asked +me about the rheumatics, the broom shook in my 'and. + +"Look here," I ses, "if you want to be funny, go and be funny with them +as likes it. I'm fair sick of it, so I give you warning." + +"Funny?" he ses, staring at me with eyes like a cow. "Wot d'ye mean? +There's nothing funny about rheumatics; I ought to know; I'm a martyr to +it. Did you find as 'ow the mud did you any good?" + +I looked at 'im hard, but 'e stood there looking at me with his fat baby- +face, and I knew he didn't mean any harm; so I answered 'im perlite and +wished 'im good night. + +"I've 'ad pretty near everything a man can have," he ses, casting anchor +on a empty box, "but I think the rheumatics was about the worst of 'em +all. I even tried bees for it once." + +"Bees!" I ses. "_Bees!_" + +"Bee-stings," he ses. "A man told me that if I could on'y persuade a few +bees to sting me, that 'ud cure me. I don't know what 'e meant by +persuading! they didn't want no persuading. I took off my coat and shirt +and went and rocked one of my neighbour's bee-hives next door, and I +thought my last hour 'ad come." + +He sat on that box and shivered at the memory of it. + +"Now I take Dr. Pepper's pellets instead," he ses. "I've got a box in my +state-room, and if you'd like to try 'em you're welcome." + +He sat there talking about the complaints he had 'ad and wot he 'ad done +for them till I thought I should never have got rid of 'im. He got up at +last, though, and, arter telling me to always wear flannel next to my +skin, climbed aboard and went below. + +I knew the hands was aboard, and arter watching 'is cabin-skylight until +the light was out, I went and undressed. Then I crept back on to the +jetty, and arter listening by the Peewit to make sure that they was all +asleep, I went back and climbed down the ladder. + +It was colder than ever. The cold seemed to get into my bones, but I +made up my mind to 'ave that twelve quid if I died for it. I trod round +and round the place where I 'ad seen that purse chucked in until I was +tired, and the rubbish I picked up by mistake you wouldn't believe. + +I suppose I 'ad been in there arf an hour, and I was standing up with my +teeth clenched to keep them from chattering, when I 'appened to look +round and see something like a white ball coming down the ladder. My +'art seemed to stand still for a moment, and then it began to beat as +though it would burst. The white thing came down lower and lower, and +then all of a sudden it stood in the mud and said, "Ow!" + +"Who is it?" I ses. "Who are you?" "Halloa, Bill!" it ses. "Ain't it +perishing cold?" + +It was the voice o' Cap'n Fogg, and if ever I wanted to kill a fellow- +creetur, I wanted to then. + +"'Ave you been in long, Bill?" he ses. "About ten minutes," I ses, +grinding my teeth. + +"Is it doing you good?" he ses. + +I didn't answer 'im. + +"I was just going off to sleep," he ses, "when I felt a sort of hot pain +in my left knee. O' course, I knew what it meant at once, and instead o' +taking some of the pellets I thought I'd try your remedy instead. It's a +bit nippy, but I don't mind that if it does me good." + +He laughed a silly sort o' laugh, and then I'm blest if 'e didn't sit +down in that mud and waller in it. Then he'd get up and come for'ard two +or three steps and sit down agin. + +"Ain't you sitting down, Bill?" he ses, arter a time. + +"No," I ses, "I'm not." + +"I don't think you can expect to get the full benefit unless you do," he +ses, coming up close to me and sitting down agin. "It's a bit of a shock +at fust, but Halloa!" + +"Wot's up?" I ses. + +"Sitting on something hard," he ses. "I wish people 'ud be more +careful." + +He took a list to port and felt under the star-board side. Then he +brought his 'and up and tried to wipe the mud off and see wot he 'ad got. + +"Wot is it?" I ses, with a nasty sinking sort o' feeling inside me. + +"I don't know," he ses, going on wiping. "It's soft outside and 'ard +inside. It----" + +"Let's 'ave a look at it," I ses, holding out my 'and. + +"It's nothing," he ses, in a queer voice, getting up and steering for the +ladder. "Bit of oyster-shell, I think." + +He was up that ladder hand over fist, with me close behind 'im, and as +soon as he 'ad got on to the wharf started to run to 'is ship. + +"Good night, Bill," he ses, over 'is shoulder. + +"Arf a moment." I ses, follering 'im. + +"I must get aboard," he ses; "I believe I've got a chill," and afore I +could stop 'im he 'ad jumped on and run down to 'is cabin. + +I stood on the jetty for a minute or two, trembling all over with cold +and temper. Then I saw he 'ad got a light in 'is cabin, and I crept +aboard and peeped down the skylight. And I just 'ad time to see some +sovereigns on the table, when he looked up and blew out the light. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Deep Waters, The Entire Collection, by W.W. Jacobs + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DEEP WATERS, THE ENTIRE COLLECTION *** + +***** This file should be named 11482.txt or 11482.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.net/1/1/4/8/11482/ + +Produced by David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.net/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.net), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Each eBook is in a subdirectory of the same number as the eBook's +eBook number, often in several formats including plain vanilla ASCII, +compressed (zipped), HTML and others. + +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks replace the old file and take over +the old filename and etext number. The replaced older file is renamed. +VERSIONS based on separate sources are treated as new eBooks receiving +new filenames and etext numbers. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.net + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + +EBooks posted prior to November 2003, with eBook numbers BELOW #10000, +are filed in directories based on their release date. If you want to +download any of these eBooks directly, rather than using the regular +search system you may utilize the following addresses and just +download by the etext year. + + http://www.gutenberg.net/etext06 + + (Or /etext 05, 04, 03, 02, 01, 00, 99, + 98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 92, 92, 91 or 90) + +EBooks posted since November 2003, with etext numbers OVER #10000, are +filed in a different way. The year of a release date is no longer part +of the directory path. The path is based on the etext number (which is +identical to the filename). The path to the file is made up of single +digits corresponding to all but the last digit in the filename. For +example an eBook of filename 10234 would be found at: + + http://www.gutenberg.net/1/0/2/3/10234 + +or filename 24689 would be found at: + http://www.gutenberg.net/2/4/6/8/24689 + +An alternative method of locating eBooks: + http://www.gutenberg.net/GUTINDEX.ALL + + diff --git a/old/old/11482-h-2006-10-30/11482-h.htm b/old/old/11482-h-2006-10-30/11482-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c7ee92c --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/11482-h-2006-10-30/11482-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,7576 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<html> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" + content="text/html; charset=us-ascii"> +<meta content="pg2html (binary version 0.11)" + name="generator"> +<title> + Deep Waters, + by W.W. Jacobs. +</title> +<style type="text/css"> + <!-- + body {background:#faebd7} + * { font-family: Times; + } + P { text-indent: 1em; + margin: 15%; + margin-top: .75em; + font-size: 14pt; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; color:#A82C28} + HR { width: 33%; } + PRE { font-family: Courier, monospaced;} + .toc { margin-left: 15%; font-size: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0em;} + CENTER { padding: 10px;} + // --> +</style> +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +Project Gutenberg's Deep Waters, The Entire Collection, by W.W. Jacobs + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net + + +Title: Deep Waters, The Entire Collection + +Author: W.W. Jacobs + +Release Date: October 30, 2006 [EBook #11482] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: US-ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DEEP WATERS, THE ENTIRE COLLECTION *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="cover (95K)" src="images/cover.jpg" height="787" width="632" /> +</center> +<br><br> + + +<h1> + DEEP WATERS +</h1> +<center><h2> + By W.W. JACOBS +</h2></center> + +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="title (39K)" src="images/title.jpg" height="617" width="488" /> +</center> +<br><br> + + +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="001 (37K)" src="images/001.jpg" height="670" width="480" /> +</center> +<br><br> + + + + + +<hr> + +<br /><br /><br /> +<h2>Contents</h2> + +<center> +<table summary=""> +<tr><td> + + +<p class="toc"><a href="#2H_4_0"> +SHAREHOLDERS +</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#2H_4_1"> +PAYING OFF +</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#2H_4_2"> +MADE TO MEASURE +</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#2H_4_3"> +SAM'S GHOST +</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#2H_4_4"> +BEDRIDDEN +</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#2H_4_5"> +THE CONVERT +</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#2H_4_6"> +HUSBANDRY +</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#2H_4_7"> +FAMILY CARES +</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#2H_4_8"> +THE WINTER OFFENSIVE +</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#2H_4_9"> +THE SUBSTITUTE +</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#2H_4_10"> +STRIKING HARD +</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#2H_4_11"> +DIRTY WORK +</a></p> + + +</td></tr> +</table> +</center> +<br /><br /> +<hr> +<br /><br /> + + +<h2>List of Illustrations</h2> + +<center> +<table summary=""> +<tr><td> + + + + +<p class="toc"><a href="#image-1"> +In the Light of The Lamp I Saw The Dead White Face +</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#image-2"> +"Found It over There, Just by the Mint," Ses The Man, +Pointing. +</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#image-4"> +Right Afore My Wife and the Party Next Door She Put Her +Arm Round My Waist. +</a></p> +<p class="toc"><a href="#image-5"> +She Learnt the News in The First Half-hour from Her +Landlady. +</a></p> + + + +</td></tr> +</table> +</center> +<br /><br /> +<hr> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> + + +<a name="2H_4_0"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<center> + <h2> SHAREHOLDERS</h2> +</center> +<p> + Sailor man—said the night-watchman, musingly—a sailorman is like a fish + he is safest when 'e is at sea. When a fish comes ashore it is in for + trouble, and so is sailorman. One poor chap I knew 'ardly ever came + ashore without getting married; and he was found out there was no less + than six wimmen in the court all taking away 'is character at once. And + when he spoke up Solomon the magistrate pretty near bit 'is 'ead off. +</p> +<p> + Then look at the trouble they get in with their money! They come ashore + from a long trip, smelling of it a'most, and they go from port to port + like a lord. Everybody has got their eye on that money—everybody except + the sailorman, that is—and afore he knows wot's 'appened, and who 'as + got it, he's looking for a ship agin. When he ain't robbed of 'is money, + he wastes it; and when 'e don't do either, he loses it. +</p> +<p> + I knew one chap who hid 'is money. He'd been away ten months, and, + knowing 'ow easy money goes, 'e made up sixteen pounds in a nice little + parcel and hid it where nobody could find it. That's wot he said, and + p'r'aps 'e was right. All I know is, he never found it. I did the same + thing myself once with a couple o' quid I ran acrost unexpected, on'y, + unfortunately for me, I hid it the day afore my missus started 'er + spring-cleaning. +</p> +<p> + One o' the worst men I ever knew for getting into trouble when he came + ashore was old Sam Small. If he couldn't find it by 'imself, Ginger Dick + and Peter Russet would help 'im look for it. Generally speaking they + found it without straining their eyesight. +</p> +<p> + I remember one time they was home, arter being away pretty near a year, + and when they was paid off they felt like walking gold-mines. They went + about smiling all over with good-temper and 'appiness, and for the first + three days they was like brothers. That didn't last, of course, and on + the fourth day Sam Small, arter saying wot 'e would do to Ginger and + Peter if it wasn't for the police, went off by 'imself. +</p> +<p> + His temper passed off arter a time, and 'e began to look cheerful agin. + It was a lovely morning, and, having nothing to do and plenty in 'is + pocket to do it with, he went along like a schoolboy with a 'arf holiday. + He went as far as Stratford on the top of a tram for a mouthful o' fresh + air, and came back to his favourite coffee-shop with a fine appetite for + dinner. There was a very nice gentlemanly chap sitting opposite 'im, and + the way he begged Sam's pardon for splashing gravy over 'im made Sam take + a liking to him at once. Nicely dressed he was, with a gold pin in 'is + tie, and a fine gold watch-chain acrost his weskit; and Sam could see he + 'ad been brought up well by the way he used 'is knife and fork. He kept + looking at Sam in a thoughtful kind o' way, and at last he said wot a + beautiful morning it was, and wot a fine day it must be in the country. + In a little while they began to talk like a couple of old friends, and he + told Sam all about 'is father, wot was a clergyman in the country, and + Sam talked about a father of his as was living private on three 'undred a + year. +</p> +<p> + "Ah, money's a useful thing," ses the man. +</p> +<p> + "It ain't everything," ses Sam. "It won't give you 'appiness. I've run + through a lot in my time, so I ought to know." +</p> +<p> + "I expect you've got a bit left, though," ses the man, with a wink. +</p> +<p> + Sam laughed and smacked 'is pocket. "I've got a trifle to go on with," + he ses, winking back. "I never feel comfortable without a pound or two + in my pocket." +</p> +<p> + "You look as though you're just back from a vy'ge," ses the man, looking + at 'im very hard. +</p> +<p> + "I am," ses Sam, nodding. "Just back arter ten months, and I'm going to + spend a bit o' money afore I sign on agin, I can tell you." +</p> +<p> + "That's wot it was given to us for," ses the man, nodding at him. +</p> +<p> + They both got up to go at the same time and walked out into the street + together, and, when Sam asked 'im whether he might have the pleasure of + standing 'im a drink, he said he might. He talked about the different + kinds of drink as they walked along till Sam, wot was looking for a high- + class pub, got such a raging thirst on 'im he hardly knew wot to do with + 'imself. He passed several pubs, and walked on as fast as he could to + the Three Widders. +</p> +<p> + "Do you want to go in there partikler?" ses the man, stopping at the + door. +</p> +<p> + "No," ses Sam, staring. +</p> +<p> + "'Cos I know a place where they sell the best glass o' port wine in + London," ses the man. +</p> +<p> + He took Sam up two or three turnings, and then led him into a quiet + little pub in a back street. There was a cosy little saloon bar with + nobody in it, and, arter Sam had 'ad two port wines for the look of the + thing, he 'ad a pint o' six-ale because he liked it. His new pal had one + too, and he 'ad just taken a pull at it and wiped his mouth, when 'e + noticed a little bill pinned up at the back of the bar. +</p> +<p> + "<i>Lost, between—the Mint and—Tower Stairs,</i>" he ses, leaning forward + and reading very slow, "<i>a gold—locket—set with—diamonds. Whoever + will—return—the same to—Mr. Smith—Orange Villa—Barnet—will receive + —thirty pounds—reward."</i> +</p> +<p> + "'Ow much?" ses Sam, starting. "Thirty pounds," ses the man. "Must be a + good locket. Where'd you get that?" he ses, turning to the barmaid. +</p> +<p> + "Gentleman came in an hour ago," ses the gal, "and, arter he had 'ad two + or three drinks with the guv'nor, he asks 'im to stick it up. 'Arf + crying he was—said 'it 'ad belonged to his old woman wot died." +</p> +<p> + She went off to serve a customer at the other end of the bar wot was + making little dents in it with his pot, and the man came back and sat + down by Sam agin, and began to talk about horse-racing. At least, he + tried to, but Sam couldn't talk of nothing but that locket, and wot a + nice steady sailorman could do with thirty pounds. +</p> +<p> + "Well, p'r'aps you'll find it," ses the man, chaffing-like. "'Ave + another pint." +</p> +<p> + Sam had one, but it only made 'im more solemn, and he got in quite a + temper as 'e spoke about casuals loafing about on Tower Hill with their + 'ands in their pockets, and taking gold lockets out of the mouths of + hard-working sailormen. +</p> +<p> + "It mightn't be found yet," ses the man, speaking thoughtful-like. "It's + wonderful how long a thing'll lay sometimes. Wot about going and 'aving + a look for it?" +</p> +<p> + Sam shook his 'ead at fust, but arter turning the thing over in his mind, + and 'aving another look at the bill, and copying down the name and + address for luck, 'e said p'r'aps they might as well walk that way as + anywhere else. +</p> +<p> + "Something seems to tell me we've got a chance," ses the man, as they + stepped outside. +</p> +<p> + "It's a funny feeling and I can't explain it, but it always means good + luck. Last time I had it an aunt o' mine swallered 'er false teeth and + left me five 'undred pounds." +</p> +<p> + "There's aunts and aunts," ses Sam, grunting. "I 'ad one once, but if + she had swallered 'er teeth she'd ha' been round to me to help 'er buy + some new ones. That's the sort she was." +</p> +<p> + "Mind!" ses the man, patting 'im on the shoulder, "if we do find this, I + don't want any of it. I've got all I want. It's all for you." +</p> +<p> + They went on like a couple o' brothers arter that, especially Sam, and + when they got to the Mint they walked along slow down Tower Hill looking + for the locket. It was awkward work, because, if people saw them looking + about, they'd 'ave started looking too, and twice Sam nearly fell over + owing to walking like a man with a stiff neck and squinting down both + sides of his nose at once. When they got as far as the Stairs they came + back on the other side of the road, and they 'ad turned to go back agin + when a docker-looking chap stopped Sam's friend and spoke to 'im. +</p> +<p> + "I've got no change, my man," ses Sam's pal, pushing past him. +</p> +<p> + "I ain't begging, guv'nor," ses the chap, follering 'im up. "I'm trying + to sell some-thing." +</p> +<p> + "Wot is it?" ses the other, stopping. +</p> +<p> + The man looked up and down the street, and then he put his 'ead near them + and whispered. +</p> +<p> + "Eh?" ses Sam's pal. +</p> +<p> + "Something I picked up," ses the man, still a-whispering. +</p> +<p> + Sam got a pinch on the arm from 'is pal that nearly made him scream, then + they both stood still, staring at the docker. +</p> +<p> + "Wot is it?" ses Sam, at last. +</p> +<p> + The docker looked over his shoulder agin, and then 'e put his 'and in his + trouser-pocket and just showed 'em a big, fat gold locket with diamonds + stuck all over it. Then he shoved it back in 'is pocket, while Sam's pal + was giving 'im a pinch worse than wot the other was. +</p> +<p> + "It's the one," he ses, in a whisper. "Let's 'ave another look at it," + he ses to the docker. +</p> +<p> + The man fished it out of his pocket agin, and held on to it tight while + they looked at it. +</p> +<p> + "Where did you find it?" ses Sam. +</p> +<p> + "Found it over there, just by the Mint," ses the man, pointing. +</p> +<a name="image-2"><!--IMG--></a> +<center> +<img src="images/002.jpg" height="638" width="464" +alt="'Found It over There, Just by the Mint,' Ses The Man, +Pointing. +"> +</center> +<!--IMAGE END--> +<p> + "Wot d'ye want for it?" ses Sam's pal. +</p> +<p> + "As much as I can get," ses the man. "I don't quite know 'ow much it's + worth, that's the worst of it. Wot d'ye say to twenty pounds, and chance + it?" +</p> +<p> + Sam laughed—the sort of laugh a pal 'ad once give him a black eye for. +</p> +<p> + "Twenty pounds!" he ses; "twenty pounds! 'Ave you gorn out of your mind, + or wot? I'll give you a couple of quid for it." +</p> +<p> + "Well, it's all right, captin," ses the man, "there's no 'arm done. I'll + try somebody else—or p'r'aps there'll be a big reward for it. I don't + believe it was bought for a 'undred pounds." +</p> +<p> + He was just sheering off when Sam's pal caught 'im by the arm and asked + him to let 'im have another look at it. Then he came back to Sam and led + 'im a little way off, whispering to 'im that it was the chance of a + life time. +</p> +<p> + "And if you prefer to keep it for a little while and then sell it, + instead of getting the reward for it, I dare say it would be worth a + hundred pounds to you," 'e ses. +</p> +<p> + "I ain't got twenty pounds," ses Sam. +</p> +<p> + "'Ow much 'ave you got?" ses his pal. +</p> +<p> + Sam felt in 'is pockets, and the docker came up and stood watching while + he counted it. Altogether it was nine pounds fourteen shillings and + tuppence. +</p> +<p> + "P'r'aps you've got some more at 'ome," ses his pal. +</p> +<p> + "Not a farthing," ses Sam, which was true as far as the farthing went. +</p> +<p> + "Or p'r'aps you could borrer some," ses his pal, in a soft, kind voice. + "I'd lend it to you with pleasure, on'y I haven't got it with me." +</p> +<p> + Sam shook his 'ead, and at last, arter the docker 'ad said he wouldn't + let it go for less than twenty, even to save 'is life, he let it go for + the nine pounds odd, a silver watch-chain, two cigars wot Sam 'ad been + sitting on by mistake, and a sheath-knife. +</p> +<p> + "Shove it in your pocket and don't let a soul see it," ses the man, + handing over the locket. "I might as well give it away a'most. But it + can't be 'elped." +</p> +<p> + He went off up the 'ill shaking his 'ead, and Sam's pal, arter watching + him for a few seconds, said good-bye in a hurry and went off arter 'im to + tell him to keep 'is mouth shut about it. +</p> +<p> + Sam walked back to his lodgings on air, as the saying is, and even did a + little bit of a skirt-dance to a pianner-organ wot was playing. Peter + and Ginger was out, and so was his land-lady, a respectable woman as was + minding the rest of 'is money for him, and when he asked 'er little gal, + a kid of eleven, to trust 'im for some tin she gave 'im a lecture on + wasting his money instead wot took 'is breath away—all but a word or two. +</p> +<p> + He got some of 'is money from his landlady at eight o'clock, arter + listening to 'er for 'arf an hour, and then he 'ad to pick it up off of + the floor, and say "Thank you" for it. +</p> +<p> + He went to bed afore Ginger and Peter came in, but 'e was so excited he + couldn't sleep, and long arter they was in bed he laid there and thought + of all the different ways of spending a 'undred pounds. He kept taking + the locket from under 'is piller and feeling it; then he felt 'e must + 'ave another look at it, and arter coughing 'ard two or three times and + calling out to the other two not to snore—to see if they was awake—he + got out o' bed and lit the candle. Ginger and Peter was both fast + asleep, with their eyes screwed up and their mouths wide open, and 'e sat + on the bed and looked at the locket until he was a'most dazzled. +</p> +<p> + "'Ullo, Sam!" ses a voice. "Wot 'ave you got there?" +</p> +<p> + Sam nearly fell off the bed with surprise and temper. Then 'e hid the + locket in his 'and and blew out the candle. +</p> +<p> + "Who gave it to you?" ses Ginger. +</p> +<p> + "You get off to sleep, and mind your own bisness," ses Sam, grinding 'is + teeth. +</p> +<p> + He got back into bed agin and laid there listening to Ginger waking up + Peter. Peter woke up disagreeable, but when Ginger told 'im that Sam 'ad + stole a gold locket as big as a saucer, covered with diamonds, he altered + 'is mind. +</p> +<p> + "Let's 'ave a look at it," he ses, sitting up. +</p> +<p> + "Ginger's dreaming," ses Sam, in a shaky voice. "I ain't got no locket. + Wot d'you think I want a locket for?" +</p> +<p> + Ginger got out o' bed and lit the candle agin. "Come on!" he ses, "let's + 'ave a look at it. I wasn't dreaming. I've been awake all the time, + watching you." +</p> +<p> + Sam shut 'is eyes and turned his back to them. +</p> +<p> + "He's gone to sleep, pore old chap," ses Ginger. "We'll 'ave a look at + it without waking 'im. You take that side, Peter! Mind you don't + disturb 'im." +</p> +<p> + He put his 'and in under the bed-clo'es and felt all up and down Sam's + back, very careful. Sam stood it for 'arf a minute, and then 'e sat up + in bed and behaved more like a windmill than a man. +</p> +<p> + "Hold his 'ands," ses Ginger. +</p> +<p> + "Hold 'em yourself," ses Peter, dabbing 'is nose with his shirt-sleeve. +</p> +<p> + "Well, we're going to see it," ses Ginger, "if we have to make enough + noise to rouse the 'ouse. Fust of all we're going to ask you perlite; + then we shall get louder and louder. <i>Show us the locket wot you stole, + Sam!</i>" +</p> +<p> + "Show—us—the—diamond locket!" ses Peter. +</p> +<p> + "It's my turn, Peter," ses Ginger. "One, two, three. SHOW—US—TH'——" +</p> +<p> + "Shut up," ses Sam, trembling all over. "I'll show it to you if you stop + your noise." +</p> +<p> + He put his 'and under his piller, but afore he showed it to 'em he sat up + in bed and made 'em a little speech. He said 'e never wanted to see + their faces agin as long as he lived, and why Ginger's mother 'adn't put + 'im in a pail o' cold water when 'e was born 'e couldn't understand. He + said 'e didn't believe that even a mother could love a baby that looked + like a cod-fish with red 'air, and as for Peter Russet, 'e believed his + mother died of fright. +</p> +<p> + "That'll do," ses Ginger, as Sam stopped to get 'is breath. "Are you + going to show us the locket, or 'ave we got to shout agin?" +</p> +<p> + Sam swallered something that nearly choked 'im, and then he opened his + 'and and showed it to them. Peter told 'im to wave it so as they could + see the diamonds flash, and then Ginger waved the candle to see 'ow they + looked that way, and pretty near set pore Sam's whiskers on fire. +</p> +<p> + They didn't leave 'im alone till they knew as much about it as he could + tell 'em, and they both of 'em told 'im that if he took a reward of + thirty pounds for it, instead of selling it for a 'undred, he was a + bigger fool than he looked. +</p> +<p> + "I shall turn it over in my mind," ses Sam, sucking 'is teeth. "When I + want your advice I'll ask you for it." +</p> +<p> + "We wasn't thinking of you," ses Ginger; "we was thinking of ourselves." +</p> +<p> + "You!" ses Sam, with a bit of a start. "Wot's it got to do with you?" +</p> +<p> + "Our share'll be bigger, that's all," ses Ginger. +</p> +<p> + "Much bigger," ses Peter. "I couldn't dream of letting it go at thirty. + It's chucking money away. Why, we might get <i>two</i> 'undred for it. Who + knows?" +</p> +<p> + Sam sat on the edge of 'is bed like a man in a dream, then 'e began to + make a noise like a cat with a fish-bone in its throat, and then 'e stood + up and let fly. +</p> +<p> + "Don't stop 'im, Peter," ses Ginger. "Let 'im go on; it'll do him good." +</p> +<p> + "He's forgot all about that penknife you picked up and went shares in," + ses Peter. "I wouldn't be mean for <i>twenty</i> lockets." +</p> +<p> + "Nor me neither," ses Ginger. "But we won't let 'im be mean—for 'is own + sake. We'll 'ave our rights." +</p> +<p> + "Rights!" ses Sam. "Rights! You didn't find it." +</p> +<p> + "We always go shares if we find anything," ses Ginger. "Where's your + memory, Sam?" "But I didn't find it," ses Sam. +</p> +<p> + "No, you bought it," ses Peter, "and if you don't go shares we'll split + on you—see? Then you can't sell it anyway, and perhaps you won't even + get the reward. We can be at Orange Villa as soon as wot you can." +</p> +<p> + "Sooner," ses Ginger, nodding. "But there's no need to do that. If 'e + don't go shares I'll slip round to the police-station fust thing in the + morning." +</p> +<p> + "You know the way there all right," ses Sam, very bitter. +</p> +<p> + "And we don't want none o' your back-answers," ses Ginger. "Are you + going shares or not?" +</p> +<p> + "Wot about the money I paid for it?" ses Sam, "and my trouble?" +</p> +<p> + Ginger and Peter sat down on the bed to talk it over, and at last, arter + calling themselves a lot o' bad names for being too kind-'earted, they + offered 'im five pounds each for their share in the locket. +</p> +<p> + "And that means you've got your share for next to nothing, Sam," ses + Ginger. +</p> +<p> + "Some people wouldn't 'ave given you any-thing," ses Peter. +</p> +<p> + Sam gave way at last, and then 'e stood by making nasty remarks while + Ginger wrote out a paper for them all to sign, because he said he had + known Sam such a long time. +</p> +<p> + It was a'most daylight afore they got to sleep, and the fust thing Ginger + did when he woke was to wake Sam up, and offer to shake 'ands with him. + The noise woke Peter up, and, as Sam wouldn't shake 'ands with 'im + either, they both patted him on the back instead. +</p> +<p> + They made him take 'em to the little pub, arter breakfast, to read the + bill about the reward. Sam didn't mind going, as it 'appened, as he + 'oped to meet 'is new pal there and tell 'im his troubles, but, though + they stayed there some time, 'e didn't turn up. He wasn't at the + coffee-shop for dinner, neither. +</p> +<p> + Peter and Ginger was in 'igh spirits, and, though Sam told 'em plain that + he would sooner walk about with a couple of real pickpockets, they + wouldn't leave 'im an inch. +</p> +<p> + "Anybody could steal it off of you, Sam," ses Ginger, patting 'im on the + weskit to make sure the locket was still there. "It's a good job you've + got us to look arter you." +</p> +<p> + "We must buy 'im a money-belt with a pocket in it," ses Peter. +</p> +<p> + Ginger nodded at 'im. "Yes," he ses, "that would be safer. And he'd + better wear it next to 'is skin, with everything over it. I should feel + more comfortable then." +</p> +<p> + "And wot about me?" says Sam, turning on 'im. +</p> +<p> + "Well, we'll take it in turns," ses Ginger. "You one day, and then me, + and then Peter." +</p> +<p> + Sam gave way at last, as arter all he could see it was the safest thing + to do, but he 'ad so much to say about it that they got fair sick of the + sound of 'is voice. They 'ad to go 'ome for 'im to put the belt on; and + then at seven o'clock in the evening, arter Sam had 'ad two or three + pints, they had to go 'ome agin, 'cos he was complaining of tight-lacing. +</p> +<p> + Ginger had it on next day and he went 'ome five times. The other two + went with 'im in case he lost 'imself, and stood there making nasty + remarks while he messed 'imself up with a penn'orth of cold cream. It + was a cheap belt, and pore Ginger said that, when they 'ad done with it, + it would come in handy for sand-paper. +</p> +<p> + Peter didn't like it any better than the other two did, and twice they + 'ad to speak to 'im about stopping in the street and trying to make + 'imself more comfortable by wriggling. Sam said people misunderstood it. +</p> +<p> + Arter that they agreed to wear it outside their shirt, and even then + Ginger said it scratched 'im. And every day they got more and more + worried about wot was the best thing to do with the locket, and whether + it would be safe to try and sell it. The idea o' walking about with a + fortune in their pockets that they couldn't spend a'most drove 'em crazy. +</p> +<p> + "The longer we keep it, the safer it'll be," ses Sam, as they was walking + down Hounds-ditch one day. +</p> +<p> + "We'll sell it when I'm sixty," ses Ginger, nasty-like. +</p> +<p> + "Then old Sam won't be 'ere to have 'is share," ses Peter. +</p> +<p> + Sam was just going to answer 'em back, when he stopped and began to smile + instead. Straight in front of 'im was the gentleman he 'ad met in the + coffee-shop, coming along with another man, and he just 'ad time to see + that it was the docker who 'ad sold him the locket, when they both saw + 'im. They turned like a flash, and, afore Sam could get 'is breath, + bolted up a little alley and disappeared. +</p> +<p> + "Wot's the row?" ses Ginger, staring. +</p> +<p> + Sam didn't answer 'im. He stood there struck all of a heap. +</p> +<p> + "Do you know 'em?" ses Peter. +</p> +<p> + Sam couldn't answer 'im for a time. He was doing a bit of 'ard thinking. +</p> +<p> + "Chap I 'ad a row with the other night," he ses, at last. +</p> +<p> + He walked on very thoughtful, and the more 'e thought, the less 'e liked + it. He was so pale that Ginger thought 'e was ill and advised 'im to + 'ave a drop o' brandy. Peter recommended rum, so to please 'em he 'ad + both. It brought 'is colour back, but not 'is cheerfulness. +</p> +<p> + He gave 'em both the slip next morning; which was easy, as Ginger was + wearing the locket, and, arter fust 'aving a long ride for nothing owing + to getting in the wrong train, he got to Barnet. +</p> +<p> + It was a big place; big enough to 'ave a dozen Orange Villas, but pore + Sam couldn't find one. It wasn't for want of trying neither. +</p> +<p> + He asked at over twenty shops, and the post-office, and even went to the + police-station. He must ha' walked six or seven miles looking for it, + and at last, 'arf ready to drop, 'e took the train back. +</p> +<p> + He 'ad some sausages and mashed potatoes with a pint o' stout at a place + in Bishopsgate, and then 'e started to walk 'ome. The only comfort he + 'ad was the thought of the ten pounds Ginger and Peter 'ad paid 'im; and + when he remembered that he began to cheer up and even smile. By the time + he got 'ome 'e was beaming all over 'is face. +</p> +<p> + "Where've you been?" ses Ginger. +</p> +<p> + "Enjoying myself by myself," ses Sam. +</p> +<p> + "Please yourself," ses Peter, very severe, "but where'd you ha' been if + we 'ad sold the locket and skipped, eh?" +</p> +<p> + "You wouldn't 'ave enjoyed yourself by yourself then," ses Ginger. "Yes, + you may laugh!" +</p> +<p> + Sam didn't answer 'im, but he sat down on 'is bed and 'is shoulders shook + till Ginger lost his temper and gave him a couple o' thumps on the back + that pretty near broke it. +</p> +<p> + "All right," ses Sam, very firm. "Now you 'ave done for yourselves. I + 'ad a'most made up my mind to go shares; now you sha'n't 'ave a + ha'penny." +</p> +<p> + Ginger laughed then. "Ho!" he ses, "and 'ow are you going to prevent + it?" +</p> +<p> + "We've got the locket, Sam," ses Peter, smiling and shaking his 'ead at + 'im. +</p> +<p> + "And we'll mind it till it's sold," ses Ginger. +</p> +<p> + Sam laughed agin, short and nasty. Then he undressed 'imself very slow + and got into bed. At twelve o'clock, just as Ginger was dropping off, he + began to laugh agin, and 'e only stopped when 'e heard Ginger getting out + of bed to 'im. +</p> +<p> + He stayed in bed next morning, 'cos he said 'is sides was aching, but 'e + laughed agin as they was going out, and when they came back he 'ad gorn. +</p> +<p> + We never know 'ow much we' like anything till we lose it. A week + arterwards, as Ginger was being 'elped out of a pawnshop by Peter, he + said 'e would give all he 'adn't got for the locket to be near enough to + Sam to hear 'im laugh agin. +</p> +<a name="2H_4_1"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<h2> + PAYING OFF +</h2> +<p> + My biggest fault, said the night-watchman, gloomily, has been good + nature. I've spent the best part of my life trying to do my fellow- + creeturs a good turn. And what do I get for it? If all the people I've + helped was to come 'ere now there wouldn't be standing room for them on + this wharf. 'Arf of them would be pushed overboard—and a good place for + 'em, too. +</p> +<p> + I've been like it all my life. I was good-natured enough to go to sea as + a boy because a skipper took a fancy to me and wanted my 'elp, and when I + got older I was good-natured enough to get married. All my life I've + given 'elp and advice free, and only a day or two ago one of 'em wot I + 'ad given it to came round here with her 'usband and 'er two brothers and + 'er mother and two or three people from the same street, to see her give + me "wot for." +</p> +<p> + Another fault o' mine has been being sharp. Most people make mistakes, + and they can't bear to see anybody as don't. Over and over agin I have + showed people 'ow silly they 'ave been to do certain things, and told 'em + wot I should ha' done in their place, but I can't remember one that ever + gave me a "thank you" for it. +</p> +<p> + There was a man 'ere 'arf an hour ago that reminded me of both of these + faults. He came in a-purpose to remind me, and 'e brought a couple o' + grinning, brass-faced monkeys with 'im to see 'im do it. I was sitting + on that barrel when he came, and arter two minutes I felt as if I was + sitting on red-'ot cinders. He purtended he 'ad come in for the sake of + old times and to ask arter my 'ealth, and all the time he was doing 'is + best to upset me to amuse them two pore objecks 'e 'ad brought with 'im. +</p> +<p> + Capt'in Mellun is his name, and 'e was always a foolish, soft-'eaded sort + o' man, and how he 'as kept 'is job I can't think. He used to trade + between this wharf and Bristol on a little schooner called the <i>Firefly</i>, + and seeing wot a silly, foolish kind o' man he was, I took a little bit + o' notice of 'im. Many and many a time when 'e was going to do something + he'd ha' been sorry for arterwards I 'ave taken 'im round to the Bear's + Head and stood 'im pint arter pint until he began to see reason and own + up that I was in the right. +</p> +<p> + His crew was a'most as bad as wot he was, and all in one month one o' the + 'ands gave a man ten shillings for a di'mond ring he saw 'im pick up, wot + turned out to be worth fourpence, and another one gave five bob for a + meerschaum pipe made o' chalk. When I pointed out to 'em wot fools they + was they didn't like it, and a week arterwards, when the skipper gave a + man in a pub 'is watch and chain and two pounds to hold, to show 'is + confidence in 'im, and I told 'im exactly wot I thought of him, 'e didn't + like it. +</p> +<p> + "You're too sharp, Bill," he says, sneering like. "My opinion is that + the pore man was run over. He told me 'e should only be away five + minutes. And he 'ad got an honest face: nice open blue eyes, and a smile + that done you good to look at." +</p> +<p> + "You've been swindled," I ses, "and you know it. If I'd been done like + that I should never hold up my 'ead agin. Why, a child o' five would + know better. You and your crew all seem to be tarred with the same + brush. You ain't fit to be trusted out alone." +</p> +<p> + I believe 'e told his 'ands wot I said; anyway, two bits o' coke missed + me by 'arf an inch next evening, and for some weeks not one of 'em spoke + a word to me. When they see me coming they just used to stand up + straight and twist their nose. +</p> +<p> + It didn't 'urt me, o' course. I took no notice of 'em. Even when one of + 'em fell over the broom I was sweeping with I took no notice of 'im. I + just went on with my work as if 'e wasn't there. +</p> +<p> + I suppose they 'ad been in the sulks about a month, and I was sitting + 'ere one evening getting my breath arter a couple o' hours' 'ard work, + when one of 'em, George Tebb by name, came off the ship and nodded to me + as he passed. +</p> +<p> + "Evening, Bill," he ses. +</p> +<p> + "Evening," I ses, rather stiff. +</p> +<p> + "I wanted a word with you, Bill," he ses, in a low voice. "In fact, I + might go so far as to say I want to ask you to do me a favour." +</p> +<p> + I looked at him so 'ard that he coughed and looked away. +</p> +<p> + "We might talk about it over a 'arf-pint," he ses. +</p> +<p> + "No, thank you," I ses. "I 'ad a 'arf-pint the day before yesterday, and + I'm not thirsty." +</p> +<p> + He stood there fidgeting about for a bit, and then he puts his 'and on my + shoulder. +</p> +<p> + "Well, come to the end of the jetty," he ses. "I've got something + private to say." +</p> +<p> + I got up slow-like and followed 'im. I wasn't a bit curious. Not a bit. + But if a man asks for my 'elp I always give it. +</p> +<p> + "It's like this," he ses, looking round careful, "only I don't want the + other chaps to hear because I don't want to be laughed at. Last week an + old uncle o' mine died and left me thirty pounds. It's just a week ago, + and I've already got through five of 'em, and besides that the number of + chaps that want to borrow ten bob for a couple o' days would surprise + you." +</p> +<p> + "I ain't so easy surprised," I ses, shaking my 'ead. +</p> +<p> + "It ain't safe with me," he ses; "and the favour I want you to do is to + take care of it for me. I know it'll go if I keep it. I've got it + locked up in this box. And if you keep the box I'll keep the key, and + when I want a bit I'll come and see you about it." +</p> +<p> + He pulled a little box out of 'is pocket and rattled it in my ear. +</p> +<p> + "There's five-and-twenty golden goblins in there," he ses. "If you take + charge of 'em they'll be all right. If you don't, I'm pretty certain I + sha'n't 'ave one of 'em in a week or two's time." +</p> +<p> + At fust I said I wouldn't 'ave anything to do with it, but he begged so + 'ard that I began to alter my mind. +</p> +<p> + "You're as honest as daylight, Bill," he ses, very earnest. "I don't + know another man in the world I could trust with twenty-five quid— + especially myself. Now, put it in your pocket and look arter it for me. + One of the quids in it is for you, for your trouble." +</p> +<p> + He slipped the box in my coat-pocket, and then he said 'is mind was so + relieved that 'e felt like 'arf a pint. I was for going to the Bear's + Head, the place I generally go to, because it is next door to the wharf, + so to speak, but George wanted me to try the beer at another place he + knew of. +</p> +<p> + "The wharf's all right," he ses. "There's one or two 'ands on the ship, + and they won't let anybody run away with it." +</p> +<p> + From wot he said I thought the pub was quite close, but instead o' that I + should think we walked pretty nearly a mile afore we got there. Nice + snug place it was, and the beer was all right, although, as I told George + Tebb, it didn't seem to me any better than the stuff at the Bear's Head. +</p> +<p> + He stood me two 'arf-pints and was just going to order another, when 'e + found 'e 'adn't got any money left, and he wouldn't hear of me paying for + it, because 'e said it was his treat. +</p> +<p> + "We'll 'ave a quid out o' the box," he ses. "I must 'ave one to go on + with, anyway." I shook my 'ead at 'im. +</p> +<p> + "Only one," he ses, "and that'll last me a fortnight. Besides, I want to + give you the quid I promised you." +</p> +<p> + I gave way at last, and he put his 'and in 'is trouser-pocket for the + key, and then found it wasn't there. +</p> +<p> + "I must ha' left it in my chest," he ses. "I'll 'op back and get it." + And afore I could prevent 'im he 'ad waved his 'and at me and gorn. +</p> +<p> + My fust idea was to go arter 'im, but I knew I couldn't catch 'im, and if + I tried to meet 'im coming back I should most likely miss 'im through the + side streets. So I sat there with my pipe and waited. +</p> +<p> + I suppose I 'ad been sitting down waiting for him for about ten minutes, + when a couple o' sailormen came into the bar and began to make themselves + a nuisance. Big fat chaps they was, and both of 'em more than 'arf + sprung. And arter calling for a pint apiece they began to take a little + notice of me. +</p> +<p> + "Where d'you come from?" ses one of 'em. "'Ome," I ses, very quiet. +</p> +<p> + "It's a good place—'ome," ses the chap, shaking his 'ead. "Can you sing + ''Ome, Sweet 'Ome'? You seem to 'ave got wot I might call a 'singing + face.'" +</p> +<p> + "Never mind about my face," I ses, very sharp. "You mind wot you're + doing with that beer. You'll 'ave it over in a minute." +</p> +<p> + The words was 'ardly out of my mouth afore 'e gave a lurch and spilt his + pint all over me. From 'ead to foot I was dripping with beer, and I was + in such a temper I wonder I didn't murder 'im; but afore I could move + they both pulled out their pocket-'ankerchers and started to rub me down. +</p> +<p> + "That'll do," I ses at last, arter they 'ad walked round me 'arf-a-dozen + times and patted me all over to see if I was dry. "You get off while + you're safe." +</p> +<p> + "It was my mistake, mate," ses the chap who 'ad spilt the beer. +</p> +<p> + "You get outside," I ses. "Go on, both of you, afore I put you out." +</p> +<p> + They gave one look at me, standing there with my fists clenched, and then + they went out like lambs, and I 'eard 'em trot round the corner as though + they was afraid I was following. I felt a little bit damp and chilly, + but beer is like sea-water—you don't catch cold through it—and I sat + down agin to wait for George Tebb. +</p> +<p> + He came in smiling and out 'o breath in about ten minutes' time, with the + key in 'is 'and, and as soon as I told 'im wot had 'appened to me with + the beer he turned to the landlord and ordered me six o' rum 'ot at once. +</p> +<p> + "Drink that up," he ses, 'anding it to me; "but fust of all give me the + box, so as I can pay for it." +</p> +<p> + I put my 'and in my pocket. Then I put it in the other one, and arter + that I stood staring at George Tebb and shaking all over. +</p> +<p> + "Wot's the matter? Wot are you looking like that for?" he ses. +</p> +<p> + "It must ha' been them two," I ses, choking. "While they was purtending + to dry me and patting me all over they must 'ave taken it out of my + pocket." +</p> +<p> + "Wot are you talking about?" ses George, staring at me. +</p> +<p> + "The box 'as gorn," I ses, putting down the 'ot rum and feeling in my + trouser-pocket. "The box 'as gorn, and them two must 'ave taken it." +</p> +<p> + "Gorn!" ses George. "Gorn! My box with twenty-five pounds in, wot I + trusted you with, gorn? Wot are you talking about? It can't be—it's + too crool!" +</p> +<p> + He made such a noise that the landlord wot was waiting for 'is money, + asked 'im wot he meant by it, and, arter he 'ad explained, I'm blest if + the landlord didn't advise him to search me. I stood still and let + George go through my pockets, and then I told 'im I 'ad done with 'im and + I never wanted to see 'im agin as long as I lived. +</p> +<p> + "I dare say," ses George, "I dare say. But you'll come along with me to + the wharf and see the skipper. I'm not going to lose five-and-twenty + quid through your carelessness." +</p> +<p> + I marched along in front of 'im with my 'ead in the air, and when he + spoke to me I didn't answer him. He went aboard the ship when we got to + the wharf, and a minute or two arterwards 'e came to the side and said + the skipper wanted to see me. +</p> +<p> + The airs the skipper gave 'imself was sickening. He sat down there in + 'is miserable little rat-'ole of a cabin and acted as if 'e was a judge + and I was a prisoner. Most of the 'ands 'ad squeezed in there too, and + the things they advised George to do to me was remarkable. +</p> +<p> + "Silence!" ses the skipper. "Now, watchman, tell me exactly 'ow this + thing 'appened." +</p> +<p> + "I've told you once," I ses. +</p> +<p> + "I know," ses the skipper, "but I want you to tell me again to see if you + contradict yourself. I can't understand 'ow such a clever man as you + could be done so easy." +</p> +<p> + I thought I should ha' bust, but I kept my face wonderful. I just asked + 'im wot the men was like that got off with 'is watch and chain and two + pounds, in case they might be the same. +</p> +<p> + "That's different," he ses. +</p> +<p> + "Oh!" ses I. "'Ow?" +</p> +<p> + "I lost my own property," he ses, "but you lost George's, and 'ow a man + like you, that's so much sharper and cleverer than other people, could be + had so easy, I can't think. Why, a child of five would ha' known + better." +</p> +<p> + "A baby in arms would ha' known better," ses the man wot 'ad bought the + di'mond ring. "'Ow could you 'ave been so silly, Bill? At your time o' + life, too!" +</p> +<p> + "That's neither 'ere nor there," ses the skip-per. "The watchman has + lost twenty-five quid belonging to one o' my men. The question is, wot + is he going to do about it?" +</p> +<p> + "Nothing," I ses. "I didn't ask 'im to let me mind the box. He done it + of 'is own free will. It's got nothing to do with me." +</p> +<p> + "Oh, hasn't it?" ses the skipper, drawing 'imself up. "I don't want to + be too 'ard on you, but at the same time I can't let my man suffer. I'll + make it as easy as I can, and I order you to pay 'im five shillings a + week till the twenty-five pounds is cleared off." +</p> +<p> + I laughed; I couldn't 'elp it. I just stood there and laughed at 'im. +</p> +<p> + "If you don't," ses the skipper, "then I shall lay the facts of the case + afore the guv'nor. Whether he'll object to you being in a pub a mile + away, taking care of a box of gold while you was supposed to be taking + care of the wharf, is his bisness. My bisness is to see that my man 'as + 'is rights." +</p> +<p> + "'Ear, 'ear !" ses the crew. +</p> +<p> + "You please yourself, watchman," ses the skipper. "You're such a clever + man that no doubt you could get a better job to-morrow. There must be + 'eaps of people wanting a man like you. It's for you to decide. That's + all I've got to say—five bob a week till pore George 'as got 'is money + back, or else I put the case afore the guv'nor. Wot did you say?" +</p> +<p> + I said it agin, and, as 'e didn't seem to understand, I said it once + more. +</p> +<p> + "Please yourself," 'e ses, when I 'ad finished. "You're an old man, and + five bob a week can't be much loss to you. You've got nothing to spend + it on, at your time o' life. And you've got a very soft job 'ere. Wot?" +</p> +<p> + I didn't answer 'im. I just turned round, and, arter giving a man wot + stood in my way a punch in the chest, I got up on deck and on to the + wharf, and said my little say all alone to myself, behind the crane. +</p> +<p> + I paid the fust five bob to George Tebb the next time the ship was up, + and arter biting 'em over and over agin and then ringing 'em on the + deck 'e took the other chaps round to the Bear's Head. +</p> +<p> + "P'r'aps it's just as well it's 'appened," he ses. "Five bob a week for + nearly two years ain't to be sneezed at. It's slow, but it's sure." +</p> +<p> + I thought 'e was joking at fust, but arter working it out in the office + with a bit o' pencil and paper I thought I should ha' gorn crazy. And + when I complained about the time to George 'e said I could make it + shorter if I liked by paying ten bob a week, but 'e thought the steady + five bob a week was best for both of us. +</p> +<p> + I got to 'ate the sight of 'im. Every week regular as clockwork he used + to come round to me with his 'and out, and then go and treat 'is mates to + beer with my money. If the ship came up in the day-time, at six o'clock + in the evening he'd be at the wharf gate waiting for me; and if it came + up at night she was no sooner made fast than 'e was over the side patting + my trouser-pocket and saying wot a good job it was for both of us that I + was in steady employment. +</p> +<p> + Week arter week and month arter month I went on paying. I a'most forgot + the taste o' beer, and if I could manage to get a screw o' baccy a week I + thought myself lucky. And at last, just as I thought I couldn't stand it + any longer, the end came. +</p> +<p> + I 'ad just given George 'is week's money—and 'ow I got it together that + week I don't know—when one o' the chaps came up and said the skipper + wanted to see me on board at once. +</p> +<p> + "Tell 'im if he wants to see me I'm to be found on the wharf," I ses, + very sharp. +</p> +<p> + "He wants to see you about George's money," ses the chap. "I should go + if I was you. My opinion is he wants to do you a good turn." +</p> +<p> + I 'ung fire for a bit, and then, arter sweeping up for a little while + deliberate-like, I put down my broom and stepped aboard to see the + skipper, wot was sitting on the cabin skylight purtending to read a + newspaper. +</p> +<p> + He put it down when 'e see me, and George and the others, wot 'ad been + standing in a little bunch for'ard, came aft and stood looking on. +</p> +<p> + "I wanted to see you about this money, watchman," ses the skipper, + putting on 'is beastly frills agin. "O' course, we all feel that to a + pore man like you it's a bit of a strain, and, as George ses, arter all + you have been more foolish than wicked." +</p> +<p> + "Much more," ses George. +</p> +<p> + "I find that you 'ave now paid five bob a week for nineteen weeks," ses + the skipper, "and George 'as been kind enough and generous enough to let + you off the rest. There's no need for you to look bashful, George; it's + a credit to you." +</p> +<p> + I could 'ardly believe my ears. George stood there grinning like a stuck + fool, and two o' the chaps was on their best behaviour with their 'ands + over their mouths and their eyes sticking out. +</p> +<p> + "That's all, watchman," ses the skipper; "and I 'ope it'll be a lesson to + you not to neglect your dooty by going into public-'ouses and taking + charge of other people's money when you ain't fit for it." +</p> +<p> + "I sha'n't try to do anybody else a kindness agin, if that's wot you + mean," I ses, looking at 'im. +</p> +<p> + "No, you'd better not," he ses. "This partickler bit o' kindness 'as + cost you four pounds fifteen, and that's a curious thing when you come to + think of it. Very curious." +</p> +<p> + "Wot d'ye mean?" I ses. +</p> +<p> + "Why," he ses, grinning like a madman, "it's just wot we lost between us. + I lost a watch and chain worth two pounds, and another couple o' pounds + besides; Joe lost ten shillings over 'is di'mond ring; and Charlie lost + five bob over a pipe. 'That's four pounds fifteen—just the same as + you." +</p> +<p> + Them silly fools stood there choking and sobbing and patting each other + on the back as though they'd never leave off, and all of a sudden I 'ad a + 'orrible suspicion that I 'ad been done. +</p> +<p> + "Did you see the sovereigns in the box?" I ses, turning to the skipper. +</p> +<p> + "No," he ses, shaking his 'ead. +</p> +<p> + "'Ow do you know they was there, then?" ses I. +</p> +<p> + "Because you took charge of 'em," said the skipper; "and I know wot a + clever, sharp chap you are. It stands to reason that you wouldn't be + responsible for a box like that unless you saw inside of it. Why, a + child o' five wouldn't!" +</p> +<p> + I stood there looking at 'im, but he couldn't meet my eye. None of 'em + could; and arter waiting there for a minute or two to give 'em a chance, + I turned my back on 'em and went off to my dooty. +</p> +<a name="2H_4_2"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<h2> + MADE TO MEASURE +</h2> +<p> + Mr. Mott brought his niece home from the station with considerable pride. + Although he had received a photograph to assist identification, he had + been very dubious about accosting the pretty, well-dressed girl who had + stepped from the train and gazed around with dove-like eyes in search of + him. Now he was comfortably conscious of the admiring gaze of his + younger fellow-townsmen. +</p> +<p> + "You'll find it a bit dull after London, I expect," he remarked, as he + inserted his key in the door of a small house in a quiet street. +</p> +<p> + "I'm tired of London," said Miss Garland. "I think this is a beautiful + little old town—so peaceful." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Mott looked gratified. +</p> +<p> + "I hope you'll stay a long time," he said, as he led the way into the + small front room. "I'm a lonely old man." +</p> +<p> + His niece sank into an easy chair, and looked about her. +</p> +<p> + "Thank you," she said, slowly. "I hope I shall. I feel better already. + There is so much to upset one in London." +</p> +<p> + "Noise?" queried Mr. Mott. +</p> +<p> + "And other things," said Miss Garland, with a slight shudder. +</p> +<p> + Mr. Mott sighed in sympathy with the unknown, and, judging by his niece's + expression, the unknowable. He rearranged the teacups, and, going to the + kitchen, returned in a few minutes with a pot of tea. +</p> +<p> + "Mrs. Pett leaves at three," he said, in explanation, "to look after her + children, but she comes back again at eight to look after my supper. And + how is your mother?" +</p> +<p> + Miss Garland told him. +</p> +<p> + "Last letter I had from her," said Mr. Mott, stealing a glance at the + girl's ring-finger, "I understood you were engaged." +</p> +<p> + His niece drew herself up. +</p> +<p> + "Certainly not," she said, with considerable vigour. "I have seen too + much of married life. I prefer my freedom. Besides, I don't like men." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Mott said modestly that he didn't wonder at it, and, finding the + subject uncongenial, turned the conversation on to worthier subjects. + Miss Garland's taste, it seemed, lay in the direction of hospital + nursing, or some other occupation beneficial to mankind at large. Simple + and demure, she filled the simpler Mr. Mott with a strong sense of the + shortcomings of his unworthy sex. +</p> +<p> + Within two days, under the darkling glance of Mrs. Pett, she had altered + the arrangements of the house. Flowers appeared on the meal-table, + knives and forks were properly cleaned, and plates no longer appeared + ornamented with the mustard of a previous meal. Fresh air circulated + through the house, and, passing from Mrs. Pett's left knee to the lumbar + region of Mr. Mott, went on its beneficent way rejoicing. +</p> +<p> + On the fifth day of her visit, Mr. Mott sat alone in the front parlour. + The window was closed, the door was closed, and Mr. Mott, sitting in an + easy chair with his feet up, was aroused from a sound nap by the door + opening to admit a young man, who, deserted by Mrs. Pett, stood bowing + awkwardly in the doorway. +</p> +<p> + "Is Miss Garland in?" he stammered. +</p> +<p> + Mr. Mott rubbed the remnants of sleep from his eyelids. +</p> +<p> + "She has gone for a walk," he said, slowly. +</p> +<p> + The young man stood fingering his hat. +</p> +<p> + "My name is Hurst," he said, with slight emphasis. "Mr. Alfred Hurst." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Mott, still somewhat confused, murmured that he was glad to hear it. +</p> +<p> + "I have come from London to see Florrie," continued the intruder. "I + suppose she won't be long?" +</p> +<p> + Mr. Mott thought not, and after a moment's hesitation invited Mr. Hurst + to take a chair. +</p> +<p> + "I suppose she told you we are engaged?" said the latter. +</p> +<p> + "Engaged!" said the startled Mr. Mott. "Why, she told me she didn't like + men." +</p> +<p> + "Playfulness," replied Mr. Hurst, with an odd look. "Ah, here she is!" +</p> +<p> + The handle of the front door turned, and a moment later the door of the + room was opened and the charming head of Miss Garland appeared in the + opening. +</p> +<p> + "Back again," she said, brightly. "I've just been——" +</p> +<p> + She caught sight of Mr. Hurst, and the words died away on her lips. The + door slammed, and the two gentlemen, exchanging glances, heard a hurried + rush upstairs and the slamming of another door. Also a key was heard to + turn sharply in a lock. +</p> +<p> + "She doesn't want to see you," said Mr. Mott, staring. +</p> +<p> + The young man turned pale. +</p> +<p> + "Perhaps she has gone upstairs to take her things off," he muttered, + resuming his seat. "Don't—don't hurry her!" +</p> +<p> + "I wasn't going to," said Mr. Mott. +</p> +<p> + He twisted his beard uneasily, and at the end of ten minutes looked from + the clock to Mr. Hurst and coughed. +</p> +<p> + "If you wouldn't mind letting her know I'm waiting," said the young man, + brokenly. +</p> +<p> + Mr. Mott rose, and went slowly upstairs. More slowly still, after an + interval of a few minutes, he came back again. +</p> +<p> + "She doesn't want to see you," he said, slowly. +</p> +<p> + Mr. Hurst gasped. +</p> +<p> + "I—I must see her," he faltered. +</p> +<p> + "She won't see you," repeated Mr. Mott. "And she told me to say she was + surprised at you following her down here." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Hurst uttered a faint moan, and with bent head passed into the little + passage and out into the street, leaving Mr. Mott to return to the + sitting-room and listen to such explanations as Miss Garland deemed + advisable. Great goodness of heart in the face of persistent and + unwelcome attentions appeared to be responsible for the late engagement. +</p> +<p> + "Well, it's over now," said her uncle, kindly, "and no doubt he'll soon + find somebody else. There are plenty of girls would jump at him, I + expect." +</p> +<p> + Miss Garland shook her head. +</p> +<p> + "He said he couldn't live without me," she remarked, soberly. +</p> +<p> + Mr. Mott laughed. +</p> +<p> + "In less than three months I expect he'll be congratulating himself," he + said, cheerfully. "Why, I was nearly cau—married, four times. It's a + silly age." +</p> +<p> + His niece said "Indeed!" and, informing him in somewhat hostile tones + that she was suffering from a severe headache, retired to her room. +</p> +<p> + Mr. Mott spent the evening by himself, and retiring to bed at ten-thirty + was awakened by a persistent knocking at the front door at half-past one. + Half awakened, he lit a candle, and, stumbling downstairs, drew back the + bolt of the door, and stood gaping angrily at the pathetic features of + Mr. Hurst. +</p> +<p> + "Sorry to disturb you," said the young man, "but would you mind giving + this letter to Miss Garland?" +</p> +<p> + "Sorry to disturb me!" stuttered Mr. Mott. "What do you mean by it? Eh? + What do you mean by it?" +</p> +<p> + "It is important," said Mr. Hurst. "I can't rest. I've eaten nothing + all day." +</p> +<p> + "Glad to hear it," snapped the irritated Mr. Mott. +</p> +<p> + "If you will give her that letter, I shall feel easier," said Mr. Hurst. +</p> +<p> + "I'll give it to her in the morning," said the other, snatching it from + him. "Now get off." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Hurst still murmuring apologies, went, and Mr. Mott, also murmuring, + returned to bed. The night was chilly, and it was some time before he + could get to sleep again. He succeeded at last, only to be awakened an + hour later by a knocking more violent than before. In a state of mind + bordering upon frenzy, he dived into his trousers again and went + blundering downstairs in the dark. +</p> +<p> + "Sorry to—" began Mr. Hurst. +</p> +<p> + Mr. Mott made uncouth noises at him. +</p> +<p> + "I have altered my mind," said the young man. "Would you mind letting me + have that letter back again? It was too final." +</p> +<p> + "You—get—off!" said the other, trembling with cold and passion. +</p> +<p> + "I must have that letter," said Mr. Hurst, doggedly. "All my future + happiness may depend upon it." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Mott, afraid to trust himself with speech, dashed upstairs, and after + a search for the matches found the letter, and, returning to the front + door, shut it on the visitor's thanks. His niece's door opened as he + passed it, and a gentle voice asked for enlightenment. +</p> +<p> + "How silly of him!" she said, softly. "I hope he won't catch cold. + What did you say?" +</p> +<p> + "I was coughing," said Mr. Mott, hastily. +</p> +<p> + "You'll get cold if you're not careful," said his thoughtful niece. + "That's the worst of men, they never seem to have any thought. Did he + seem angry, or mournful, or what? I suppose you couldn't see his face?" +</p> +<p> + "I didn't try," said Mr. Mott, crisply. "Good night." +</p> +<p> + By the morning his ill-humour had vanished, and he even became slightly + facetious over the events of the night. The mood passed at the same + moment that Mr. Hurst passed the window. +</p> +<p> + "Better have him in and get it over," he said, irritably. +</p> +<p> + Miss Garland shuddered. +</p> +<p> + "Never!" she said, firmly. "He'd be down on his knees. It would be too + painful. You don't know him." +</p> +<p> + "Don't want to," said Mr. Mott. +</p> +<p> + He finished his breakfast in silence, and, after a digestive pipe, + proposed a walk. The profile of Mr. Hurst, as it went forlornly past the + window again, served to illustrate Miss Garland's refusal. +</p> +<p> + "I'll go out and see him," said Mr. Mott, starting up. "Are you going to + be a prisoner here until this young idiot chooses to go home? It's + preposterous!" +</p> +<p> + He crammed his hat on firmly and set out in pursuit of Mr. Hurst, who was + walking slowly up the street, glancing over his shoulder. "Morning!" + said Mr. Mott, fiercely. "Good morning," said the other. +</p> +<p> + "Now, look here," said Mr. Mott. "This has gone far enough, and I won't + have any more of it. Why, you ought to be ashamed of yourself, chivvying + a young lady that doesn't want you. Haven't you got any pride?" +</p> +<p> + "No," said the young man, "not where she is concerned." +</p> +<p> + "I don't believe you have," said the other, regarding him, "and I expect + that's where the trouble is. Did she ever have reason to think you were + looking after any other girls?" +</p> +<p> + "Never, I swear it," said Mr. Hurst, eagerly. +</p> +<p> + "Just so," said Mr. Mott, with a satisfied nod. "That's where you made a + mistake. She was too sure of you; it was too easy. No excitement. + Girls like a man that other girls want; they don't want a turtle-dove in + fancy trousers." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Hurst coughed. +</p> +<p> + "And they like a determined man," continued Miss Garland's uncle. "Why, + in my young days, if I had been jilted, and come down to see about it, + d'you think I'd have gone out of the house without seeing her? I might + have been put out—by half-a-dozen—but I'd have taken the mantelpiece + and a few other things with me. And you are bigger than I am." +</p> +<p> + "We aren't all made the same," said Mr. Hurst, feebly. +</p> +<p> + "No, we're not," said Mr. Mott. "I'm not blaming you; in a way, I'm + sorry for you. If you're not born with a high spirit, nothing'll give it + to you." +</p> +<p> + "It might be learnt," said Mr. Hurst. Mr. Mott laughed. +</p> +<p> + "High spirits are born, not made," he said. "The best thing you can do + is to go and find another girl, and marry her before she finds you out." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Hurst shook his head. +</p> +<p> + "There's no other girl for me," he said, miserably. "And everything + seemed to be going so well. We've been buying things for the house for + the last six months, and I've just got a good rise in my screw." +</p> +<p> + "It'll do for another girl," said Mr. Mott, briskly. "Now, you get off + back to town. You are worrying Florrie by staying here, and you are + doing no good to anybody. Good-bye." +</p> +<p> + "I'll walk back as far as the door with you," said Mr. Hurst. "You've + done me good. It's a pity I didn't meet you before." +</p> +<p> + "Remember what I've told you, and you'll do well yet," he said, patting + the young man on the arm. +</p> +<p> + "I will," said Mr. Hurst, and walked on by his side, deep in thought. +</p> +<p> + "I can't ask you in," said Mr. Mott, jocularly, as he reached his door, + and turned the key in the lock. "Good-bye." +</p> +<p> + "Good-bye," said Mr. Hurst. +</p> +<p> + He grasped the other's outstretched hand, and with a violent jerk pulled + him into the street. Then he pushed open the door, and, slipping into + the passage, passed hastily into the front room, closely followed by the + infuriated Mr. Mott. +</p> +<p> + "What—what—what!" stammered that gentleman. +</p> +<p> + "I'm taking your tip," said Mr. Hurst, pale but determined. "I'm going + to stay here until I have seen Florrie." +</p> +<p> + "You—you're a serpent," said Mr. Mott, struggling for breath. "I—I'm + surprised at you. You go out before you get hurt." +</p> +<p> + "Not without the mantelpiece," said Mr. Hurst, with a distorted grin. +</p> +<p> + "A viper!" said Mr. Mott, with extreme bitterness. "If you are not out + in two minutes I'll send for the police." +</p> +<p> + "Florrie wouldn't like that," said Mr. Hurst. "She's awfully particular + about what people think. You just trot upstairs and tell her that a + gentleman wants to see her." +</p> +<p> + He threw himself into Mr. Mott's own particular easy chair, and, crossing + his knees, turned a deaf ear to the threats of that incensed gentleman. + Not until the latter had left the room did his features reveal the + timorousness of the soul within. Muffled voices sounded from upstairs, + and it was evident that an argument of considerable length was in + progress. It was also evident from the return of Mr. Mott alone that his + niece had had the best of it. +</p> +<p> + "I've done all I could," he said, "but she declines to see you. She says + she won't see you if you stay here for a month, and you couldn't do that, + you know." +</p> +<p> + "Why not?" inquired Mr. Hurst. +</p> +<p> + "Why not?" repeated Mr. Mott, repressing his feelings with some + difficulty. "Food!" +</p> +<p> + Mr. Hurst started. +</p> +<p> + "And drink," said Mr. Mott, following up his advantage. "There's no good + in starving yourself for nothing, so you may as well go." +</p> +<p> + "When I've seen Florrie," said the young man, firmly. +</p> +<p> + Mr. Mott slammed the door, and for the rest of the day Mr. Hurst saw him + no more. At one o'clock a savoury smell passed the door on its way + upstairs, and at five o'clock a middle-aged woman with an inane smile + looked into the room on her way aloft with a loaded tea-tray. By supper- + time he was suffering considerably from hunger and thirst. +</p> +<p> + At ten o'clock he heard the footsteps of Mr. Mott descending the stairs. + The door opened an inch, and a gruff voice demanded to know whether he + was going to stay there all night. Receiving a cheerful reply in the + affirmative, Mr. Mott secured the front door with considerable violence, + and went off to bed without another word. +</p> +<p> + He was awakened an hour or two later by the sound of something falling, + and, sitting up in bed to listen, became aware of a warm and agreeable + odour. It was somewhere about the hour of midnight, but a breakfast + smell of eggs and bacon would not be denied. +</p> +<p> + He put on some clothes and went downstairs. A crack of light showed + under the kitchen door, and, pushing it open with some force, he gazed + spellbound at the spectacle before him. +</p> +<p> + "Come in," said Mr. Hurst, heartily. "I've just finished." +</p> +<p> + He rocked an empty beer-bottle and patted another that was half full. + Satiety was written on his face as he pushed an empty plate from him, + and, leaning back in his chair, smiled lazily at Mr. Mott. +</p> +<p> + "Go on," said that gentleman, hoarsely. Mr. Hurst shook his head. +</p> +<p> + "Enough is as good as a feast," he said, reasonably. "I'll have some + more to-morrow." +</p> +<p> + "Oh, will you?" said the other. "Will you?" +</p> +<p> + Mr. Hurst nodded, and, opening his coat, disclosed a bottle of beer in + each breast-pocket. The other pockets, it appeared, contained food. +</p> +<p> + "And here's the money for it," he said, putting down some silver on the + table. "I am determined, but honest." +</p> +<p> + With a sweep of his hand, Mr. Mott sent the money flying. +</p> +<p> + "To-morrow morning I send for the police. Mind that!" he roared. +</p> +<p> + "I'd better have my breakfast early, then," said Mr. Hurst, tapping his + pockets. "Good night. And thank you for your advice." +</p> +<p> + He sat for some time after the disappearance of his host, and then, + returning to the front room, placed a chair at the end of the sofa and, + with the tablecloth for a quilt, managed to secure a few hours' troubled + sleep. At eight o'clock he washed at the scullery sink, and at ten + o'clock Mr. Mott, with an air of great determination, came in to deliver + his ultimatum. +</p> +<p> + "If you're not outside the front door in five minutes, I'm going to fetch + the police," he said, fiercely. +</p> +<p> + "I want to see Florrie," said the other. +</p> +<p> + "Well, you won't see her," shouted Mr. Mott. +</p> +<p> + Mr. Hurst stood feeling his chin. +</p> +<p> + "Well, would you mind taking a message for me?" he asked. "I just want + you to ask her whether I am really free. Ask her whether I am free to + marry again." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Mott eyed him in amazement. +</p> +<p> + "You see, I only heard from her mother," pursued Mr. Hurst, "and a friend + of mine who is in a solicitor's office says that isn't good enough. I + only came down here to make sure, and I think the least she can do is to + tell me herself. If she won't see me, perhaps she'd put it in writing. + You see, there's another lady." +</p> +<p> + "But!" said the mystified Mr. Mott. +</p> +<p> + "You told me——" +</p> +<p> + "You tell her that," said the other. +</p> +<p> + Mr. Mott stood for a few seconds staring at him, and then without a word + turned on his heel and went upstairs. Left to himself, Mr. Hurst walked + nervously up and down the room, and, catching sight of his face in the + old-fashioned glass on the mantel-piece, heightened its colour by a few + pinches. The minutes seemed inter-minable, but at last he heard the + steps of Mr. Mott on the stairs again. +</p> +<p> + "She's coming down to see you herself," said the latter, solemnly. +</p> +<p> + Mr. Hurst nodded, and, turning to the window, tried in vain to take an + interest in passing events. A light step sounded on the stairs, the door + creaked, and he turned to find himself con-fronted by Miss Garland. +</p> +<p> + "Uncle told me!" she began, coldly. Mr. Hurst bowed. +</p> +<p> + "I am sorry to have caused you so much trouble," he said, trying to + control his voice, "but you see my position, don't you?" +</p> +<p> + "No," said the girl. +</p> +<p> + "Well, I wanted to make sure," said Mr. Hurst. "It's best for all of us, + isn't it? Best for you, best for me, and, of course, for my young lady." +</p> +<p> + "You never said anything about her before," said Miss Garland, her eyes + darkening. +</p> +<p> + "Of course not," said Mr. Hurst. "How could I? I was engaged to you, + and then she wasn't my young lady; but, of course, as soon as you broke + it off—" +</p> +<p> + "Who is she?" inquired Miss Garland, in a casual voice. +</p> +<p> + "You don't know her," said Mr. Hurst. +</p> +<p> + "What is she like?" +</p> +<p> + "I can't describe her very well," said Mr. Hurst. "I can only say she's + the most beautiful girl I have ever seen. I think that's what made me + take to her. And she's easily pleased. She liked the things I have been + buying for the house tremendously." +</p> +<p> + "Did she?" said Miss Garland, with a gasp. +</p> +<p> + "All except that pair of vases you chose," continued the veracious Mr. + Hurst. "She says they are in bad taste, but she can give them to the + charwoman." +</p> +<p> + "Oh!" said the girl. "Oh, indeed! Very kind of her. Isn't there + anything else she doesn't like?" +</p> +<p> + Mr. Hurst stood considering. +</p> +<p> + "She doesn't like the upholstering of the best chairs," he said at last. + "She thinks they are too showy, so she's going to put covers over them." +</p> +<p> + There was a long pause, during which Mr. Mott, taking his niece gently by + the arm, assisted her to a chair. +</p> +<p> + "Otherwise she is quite satisfied," concluded Mr. Hurst. +</p> +<p> + Miss Garland took a deep breath, but made no reply. +</p> +<p> + "I have got to satisfy her that I am free," said the young man, after + another pause. "I suppose that I can do so?" +</p> +<p> + "I—I'll think it over," said Miss Garland, in a low voice. "I am not + sure what is the right thing to do. I don't want to see you made + miserable for life. It's nothing to me, of course, but still—" +</p> +<p> + She got up and, shaking off the proffered assistance of her uncle, went + slowly and languidly up to her room. Mr. Mott followed her as far as the + door, and then turned indignantly upon Mr. Hurst. +</p> +<p> + "You—you've broke her heart," he said, solemnly. +</p> +<p> + "That's all right," said Mr. Hurst, with a delighted wink. "I'll mend it + again." +</p> +<a name="2H_4_3"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<h2> + SAM'S GHOST +</h2> +<p> + Yes, I know, said the night-watchman, thoughtfully, as he sat with a cold + pipe in his mouth gazing across the river. I've 'eard it afore. People + tell me they don't believe in ghosts and make a laugh of 'em, and all I + say is: let them take on a night-watchman's job. Let 'em sit 'ere all + alone of a night with the water lapping against the posts and the wind + moaning in the corners; especially if a pal of theirs has slipped + overboard, and there is little nasty bills stuck up just outside in the + High Street offering a reward for the body. Twice men 'ave fallen + overboard from this jetty, and I've 'ad to stand my watch here the same + night, and not a farthing more for it. +</p> +<p> + One of the worst and artfullest ghosts I ever 'ad anything to do with was + Sam Bullet. He was a waterman at the stairs near by 'ere; the sort o' + man that 'ud get you to pay for drinks, and drink yours up by mistake + arter he 'ad finished his own. The sort of man that 'ad always left his + baccy-box at 'ome, but always 'ad a big pipe in 'is pocket. +</p> +<p> + He fell overboard off of a lighter one evening, and all that his mates + could save was 'is cap. It was on'y two nights afore that he 'ad knocked + down an old man and bit a policeman's little finger to the bone, so that, + as they pointed out to the widder, p'r'aps he was taken for a wise + purpose. P'r'aps he was 'appier where he was than doing six months. +</p> +<p> + "He was the sort o' chap that'll make himself 'appy anywhere," ses one of + 'em, comforting-like. +</p> +<p> + "Not without me," ses Mrs. Bullet, sobbing, and wiping her eyes on + something she used for a pocket-hankercher. "He never could bear to be + away from me. Was there no last words?" +</p> +<p> + "On'y one," ses one o' the chaps, Joe Peel by name. +</p> +<p> + "As 'e fell overboard," ses the other. +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Bullet began to cry agin, and say wot a good 'usband he 'ad been. + "Seventeen years come Michaelmas," she ses, "and never a cross word. + Nothing was too good for me. Nothing. I 'ad only to ask to 'ave." +</p> +<p> + "Well, he's gorn now," ses Joe, "and we thought we ought to come round + and tell you." +</p> +<p> + "So as you can tell the police," ses the other chap. +</p> +<p> + That was 'ow I came to hear of it fust; a policeman told me that night as + I stood outside the gate 'aving a quiet pipe. He wasn't shedding tears; + his only idea was that Sam 'ad got off too easy. +</p> +<p> + "Well, well," I ses, trying to pacify 'im, "he won't bite no more + fingers; there's no policemen where he's gorn to." +</p> +<p> + He went off grumbling and telling me to be careful, and I put my pipe out + and walked up and down the wharf thinking. On'y a month afore I 'ad lent + Sam fifteen shillings on a gold watch and chain wot he said an uncle 'ad + left 'im. I wasn't wearing it because 'e said 'is uncle wouldn't like + it, but I 'ad it in my pocket, and I took it out under one of the lamps + and wondered wot I ought to do. +</p> +<p> + My fust idea was to take it to Mrs. Bullet, and then, all of a sudden, + the thought struck me: "Suppose he 'adn't come by it honest?" +</p> +<p> + I walked up and down agin, thinking. If he 'adn't, and it was found out, + it would blacken his good name and break 'is pore wife's 'art. That's + the way I looked at it, and for his sake and 'er sake I determined to + stick to it. +</p> +<p> + I felt 'appier in my mind when I 'ad decided on that, and I went round to + the Bear's Head and 'ad a pint. Arter that I 'ad another, and then I + come back to the wharf and put the watch and chain on and went on with my + work. +</p> +<p> + Every time I looked down at the chain on my waistcoat it reminded me of + Sam. I looked on to the river and thought of 'im going down on the ebb. + Then I got a sort o' lonesome feeling standing on the end of the jetty + all alone, and I went back to the Bear's Head and 'ad another pint. +</p> +<p> + They didn't find the body, and I was a'most forgetting about Sam when one + evening, as I was sitting on a box waiting to get my breath back to 'ave + another go at sweeping, Joe Peel, Sam's mate, came on to the wharf to see + me. +</p> +<p> + He came in a mysterious sort o' way that I didn't like: looking be'ind + 'im as though he was afraid of being follered, and speaking in a whisper + as if 'e was afraid of being heard. He wasn't a man I liked, and I was + glad that the watch and chain was stowed safe away in my trowsis-pocket. +</p> +<p> + "I've 'ad a shock, watchman," he ses. +</p> +<p> + "Oh!" I ses. +</p> +<p> + "A shock wot's shook me all up," he ses, working up a shiver. "I've seen + something wot I thought people never could see, and wot I never want to + see agin. I've seen Sam!" +</p> +<p> + I thought a bit afore I spoke. "Why, I thought he was drownded," I ses. +</p> +<p> + "So 'e is," ses Joe. "When I say I've seen 'im I mean that I 'ave seen + his ghost!" +</p> +<p> + He began to shiver agin, all over. +</p> +<p> + "Wot was it like?" I ses, very calm. +</p> +<p> + "Like Sam," he ses, rather short. +</p> +<p> + "When was it?" I ses. +</p> +<p> + "Last night at a quarter to twelve," he ses. "It was standing at my + front door waiting for me." +</p> +<p> + "And 'ave you been shivering like that ever since?" I ses. +</p> +<p> + "Worse than that," ses Joe, looking at me very 'ard. "It's wearing off + now. The ghost gave me a message for you." +</p> +<p> + I put my 'and in my trowsis-pocket and looked at 'im. Then I walked very + slow, towards the gate. +</p> +<p> + "It gave me a message for you," ses Joe, walking beside me. "'We was + always pals, Joe,'" it ses, "'you and me, and I want you to pay up + fifteen bob for me wot I borrowed off of Bill the watchman. I can't rest + until it's paid,' it ses. So here's the fifteen bob, watchman." +</p> +<p> + He put his 'and in 'is pocket and takes out fifteen bob and 'olds it out + to me. +</p> +<p> + "No, no," I ses. "I can't take your money, Joe Peel. It wouldn't be + right. Pore Sam is welcome to the fifteen bob—I don't want it." +</p> +<p> + "You must take it," ses Joe. "The ghost said if you didn't it would come + to me agin and agin till you did, and I can't stand any more of it." +</p> +<p> + "I can't 'elp your troubles," I ses. +</p> +<p> + "You must," ses Joe. "'Give Bill the fifteen bob,' it ses, 'and he'll + give you a gold watch and chain wot I gave 'im to mind till it was + paid.'" +</p> +<p> + I see his little game then. "Gold watch and chain," I ses, laughing. + "You must ha' misunderstood it, Joe." +</p> +<p> + "I understood it right enough," ses Joe, getting a bit closer to me as I + stepped outside the gate. "Here's your fifteen bob; are you going to + give me that watch and chain?" +</p> +<p> + "Sartainly not," I ses. "I don't know wot you mean by a watch and chain. + If I 'ad it and I gave it to anybody, I should give it to Sam's widder, + not to you." +</p> +<p> + "It's nothing to do with 'er," ses Joe, very quick. "Sam was most + pertikler about that." +</p> +<p> + "I expect you dreamt it all," I ses. "Where would pore Sam get a gold + watch and chain from? And why should 'e go to you about it? Why didn't + 'e come to me? If 'e thinks I 'ave got it let 'im come to me." +</p> +<p> + "All right, I'll go to the police-station," ses Joe. +</p> +<p> + "I'll come with you," I ses. "But 'ere's a policeman coming along. + Let's go to 'im." +</p> +<p> + I moved towards 'im, but Joe hung back, and, arter using one or two words + that would ha' made any ghost ashamed to know 'im, he sheered off. I 'ad + a word or two with the policeman about the weather, and then I went + inside and locked the gate. +</p> +<p> + My idea was that Sam 'ad told Joe about the watch and chain afore he fell + overboard. Joe was a nasty customer, and I could see that I should 'ave + to be a bit careful. Some men might ha' told the police about it—but I + never cared much for them. They're like kids in a way, always asking + questions—most of which you can't answer. +</p> +<p> + It was a little bit creepy all alone on the wharf that night. I don't + deny it. Twice I thought I 'eard something coming up on tip-toe behind + me. The second time I was so nervous that I began to sing to keep my + spirits up, and I went on singing till three of the hands of the Susan + Emily, wot was lying alongside, came up from the fo'c'sle and offered to + fight me. I was thankful when daylight came. +</p> +<p> + Five nights arterwards I 'ad the shock of my life. It was the fust night + for some time that there was no craft up. A dark night, and a nasty + moaning sort of a wind. I 'ad just lighted the lamp at the corner of the + warehouse, wot 'ad blown out, and was sitting down to rest afore putting + the ladder away, when I 'appened to look along the jetty and saw a head + coming up over the edge of it. In the light of the lamp I saw the dead + white face of Sam Bullet's ghost making faces at me. +</p> +<a name="image-1"><!--IMG--></a> +<center> +<img src="images/001.jpg" height="670" width="480" +alt="In the Light of The Lamp I Saw The Dead White Face +"> +</center> +<!--IMAGE END--> +<p> + I just caught my breath, sharp like, and then turned and ran for the + gate like a race-horse. I 'ad left the key in the padlock, in case of + anything happening, and I just gave it one turn, flung the wicket open + and slammed it in the ghost's face, and tumbled out into the road. +</p> +<p> + I ran slap into the arms of a young policeman wot was passing. Nasty, + short-tempered chap he was, but I don't think I was more glad to see + anybody in my life. I hugged 'im till 'e nearly lost 'is breath, and + then he sat me down on the kerb-stone and asked me wot I meant by it. +</p> +<p> + Wot with the excitement and the running I couldn't speak at fust, and + when I did he said I was trying to deceive 'im. +</p> +<p> + "There ain't no such thing as ghosts," he ses; "you've been drinking." +</p> +<p> + "It came up out o' the river and run arter me like the wind," I ses. +</p> +<p> + "Why didn't it catch you, then?" he ses, looking me up and down and all + round about. "Talk sense." +</p> +<p> + He went up to the gate and peeped in, and, arter watching a moment, + stepped inside and walked down the wharf, with me follering. It was my + dooty; besides, I didn't like being left all alone by myself. +</p> +<p> + Twice we walked up and down and all over the wharf. He flashed his + lantern into all the dark corners, into empty barrels and boxes, and then + he turned and flashed it right into my face and shook his 'ead at me. +</p> +<p> + "You've been having a bit of a lark with me," he ses, "and for two pins + I'd take you. Mind, if you say a word about this to anybody, I will." +</p> +<p> + He stalked off with his 'ead in the air, and left me all alone in charge + of a wharf with a ghost on it. I stayed outside in the street, of + course, but every now and then I fancied I heard something moving about + the other side of the gate, and once it was so distinct that I run along + to the Bear's Head and knocked 'em up and asked them for a little brandy, + for illness. +</p> +<p> + I didn't get it, of course; I didn't expect to; but I 'ad a little + conversation with the landlord from 'is bedroom-winder that did me more + good than the brandy would ha' done. Once or twice I thought he would + 'ave fallen out, and many a man has 'ad his licence taken away for less + than a quarter of wot 'e said to me that night. Arter he thought he 'ad + finished and was going back to bed agin, I pointed' out to 'im that he + 'adn't kissed me "good night," and if it 'adn't ha' been for 'is missis + and two grown-up daughters and the potman I believe he'd ha' talked to me + till daylight. +</p> +<p> + 'Ow I got through the rest of the night I don't know. It seemed to be + twenty nights instead of one, but the day came at last, and when the + hands came on at six o'clock they found the gate open and me on dooty + same as usual. +</p> +<p> + I slept like a tired child when I got 'ome, and arter a steak and onions + for dinner I sat down and lit my pipe and tried to think wot was to be + done. One thing I was quite certain about: I wasn't going to spend + another night on that wharf alone. +</p> +<p> + I went out arter a bit, as far as the Clarendon Arms, for a breath of + fresh air, and I 'ad just finished a pint and was wondering whether I + ought to 'ave another, when Ted Dennis came in, and my mind was made up. + He 'ad been in the Army all 'is life, and, so far, he 'ad never seen + anything that 'ad frightened 'im. I've seen him myself take on men twice + 'is size just for the love of the thing, and, arter knocking them silly, + stand 'em a pint out of 'is own pocket. When I asked 'im whether he was + afraid of ghosts he laughed so 'ard that the landlord came from the other + end of the bar to see wot was the matter. +</p> +<p> + I stood Ted a pint, and arter he 'ad finished it I told 'im just how + things was. I didn't say anything about the watch and chain, because + there was no need to, and when we came outside agin I 'ad engaged an + assistant-watchman for ninepence a night. +</p> +<p> + "All you've got to do," I ses, "is to keep me company. You needn't turn + up till eight o'clock of a night, and you can leave 'arf an hour afore me + in the morning." +</p> +<p> + "Right-o!" ses Ted. "And if I see the ghost I'll make it wish it 'ad + never been born." +</p> +<p> + It was a load off my mind, and I went 'ome and ate a tea that made my + missis talk about the work-'ouse, and orstritches in 'uman shape wot would + eat a woman out of 'ouse and 'ome if she would let 'em. +</p> +<p> + I got to the wharf just as it was striking six, and at a quarter to seven + the wicket was pushed open gentle and the ugly 'ead of Mr. Joe Peel was + shoved inside. +</p> +<p> + "Hullo!" I ses. "Wot do you want?" +</p> +<p> + "I want to save your life," he ses, in a solemn voice. "You was within a + inch of death last night, watchman." +</p> +<p> + "Oh!" I ses, careless-like. "'Ow do you know!" +</p> +<p> + "The ghost o' Sam Bullet told me," ses Joe. "Arter it 'ad chased you up + the wharf screaming for 'elp, it came round and told me all about it." +</p> +<p> + "It seems fond of you," I ses. "I wonder why?" +</p> +<p> + "It was in a terrible temper," ses Joe, "and its face was awful to look + at. 'Tell the watchman,' it ses, 'that if he don't give you the watch + and chain I shall appear to 'im agin and kill 'im.'" +</p> +<p> + "All right," I ses, looking behind me to where three of the 'ands of the + Daisy was sitting on the fo'c'sle smoking. "I've got plenty of company + to-night." +</p> +<p> + "Company won't save you," ses Joe. "For the last time, are you going to + give me that watch and chain, or not? Here's your fifteen bob." +</p> +<p> + "No," I ses; "even if I 'ad got it I shouldn't give it to you; and it's + no use giving' it to the ghost, because, being made of air, he 'asn't got + anywhere to put it." +</p> +<p> + "Very good," ses Joe, giving me a black look. "I've done all I can to + save you, but if you won't listen to sense, you won't. You'll see Sam + Bullet agin, and you'll not on'y lose the watch and chain but your life + as well." +</p> +<p> + "All right," I ses, "and thank you kindly, but I've got an assistant, as + it 'appens—a man wot wants to see a ghost." +</p> +<p> + "An' assistant?" ses Joe, staring. +</p> +<p> + "An old soldier," I ses. "A man wot likes trouble and danger. His idea + is to shoot the ghost and see wot 'appens." +</p> +<p> + "Shoot!" ses Joe. "Shoot a pore 'armless ghost. Does he want to be + 'ung? Ain't it enough for a pore man to be drownded, but wot you must + try and shoot 'im arterwards? Why, you ought to be ashamed o' yourself. + Where's your 'art?" +</p> +<p> + "It won't be shot if it don't come on my wharf," I ses. "Though I don't + mind if it does when I've got somebody with me. I ain't afraid of + anything living, and I don't mind ghosts when there's two of us. Besides + which, the noise of the pistol 'll wake up 'arf the river." +</p> +<p> + "You take care you don't get woke up," ses Joe, 'ardly able to speak for + temper. +</p> +<p> + He went off stamping, and grinding 'is teeth, and at eight o'clock to the + minute, Ted Dennis turned up with 'is pistol and helped me take care of + the wharf. Happy as a skylark 'e was, and to see him 'iding behind a + barrel with his pistol ready, waiting for the ghost, a'most made me + forget the expense of it all. +</p> +<p> + It never came near us that night, and Ted was a bit disappointed next + morning as he took 'is ninepence and went off. Next night was the same, + and the next, and then Ted gave up hiding on the wharf for it, and sat + and snoozed in the office instead. +</p> +<p> + A week went by, and then another, and still there was no sign of Sam + Bullet's ghost, or Joe Peel, and every morning I 'ad to try and work up a + smile as I shelled out ninepence for Ted. It nearly ruined me, and, + worse than that, I couldn't explain why I was short to the missis. Fust + of all she asked me wot I was spending it on, then she asked me who I was + spending it on. It nearly broke up my 'ome—she did smash one kitchen- + chair and a vase off the parlour mantelpiece—but I wouldn't tell 'er, + and then, led away by some men on strike at Smith's wharf, Ted went on + strike for a bob a night. +</p> +<p> + That was arter he 'ad been with me for three weeks, and when Saturday + came, of course I was more short than ever, and people came and stood at + their doors all the way down our street to listen to the missis taking my + character away. +</p> +<p> + I stood it as long as I could, and then, when 'er back was turned for + 'arf a moment, I slipped out. While she'd been talking I'd been + thinking, and it came to me clear as daylight that there was no need for + me to sacrifice myself any longer looking arter a dead man's watch and + chain. +</p> +<p> + I didn't know exactly where Joe Peel lived, but I knew the part, and + arter peeping into seven public-'ouses I see the man I wanted sitting by + 'imself in a little bar. I walked in quiet-like, and sat down opposite + 'im. +</p> +<p> + "Morning," I ses. +</p> +<p> + Joe Peel grunted. +</p> +<p> + "'Ave one with me?" I ses. +</p> +<p> + He grunted agin, but not quite so fierce, and I fetched the two pints + from the counter and took a seat alongside of 'im. +</p> +<p> + "I've been looking for you," I ses. +</p> +<p> + "Oh!" he ses, looking me up and down and all over. "Well, you've found + me now." +</p> +<p> + "I want to talk to you about the ghost of pore Sam Bullet," I ses. +</p> +<p> + Joe Peel put 'is mug down sudden and looked at me fierce. "Look 'ere! + Don't you come and try to be funny with me," he ses. "'Cos I won't 'ave + it." +</p> +<p> + "I don't want to be funny," I ses. "Wot I want to know is, are you in + the same mind about that watch and chain as you was the other day?" +</p> +<p> + He didn't seem to be able to speak at fust, but arter a time 'e gives a + gasp. "Woes the game?" he ses. +</p> +<p> + "Wot I want to know is, if I give you that watch and chain for fifteen + bob, will that keep the ghost from 'anging round my wharf agin?" I ses. +</p> +<p> + "Why, o' course," he ses, staring; "but you ain't been seeing it agin, + 'ave you?" +</p> +<p> + "I've not, and I don't want to," I ses. "If it wants you to 'ave the + watch and chain, give me the fifteen bob, and it's yours." +</p> +<p> + He looked at me for a moment as if he couldn't believe 'is eyesight, and + then 'e puts his 'and into 'is trowsis-pocket and pulls out one shilling + and fourpence, 'arf a clay-pipe, and a bit o' lead-pencil. +</p> +<p> + "That's all I've got with me," he ses. "I'll owe you the rest. You + ought to ha' took the fifteen bob when I 'ad it." +</p> +<p> + There was no 'elp for it, and arter making 'im swear to give me the rest + o' the money when 'e got it, and that I shouldn't see the ghost agin, I + 'anded the things over to 'im and came away. He came to the door to see + me off, and if ever a man looked puzzled, 'e did. Pleased at the same + time. +</p> +<p> + It was a load off of my mind. My con-science told me I'd done right, and + arter sending a little boy with a note to Ted Dennis to tell 'im not to + come any more, I felt 'appier than I 'ad done for a long time. When I + got to the wharf that evening it seemed like a diff'rent place, and I was + whistling and smiling over my work quite in my old way, when the young + policeman passed. +</p> +<p> + "Hullo!" he ses. "'Ave you seen the ghost agin?" +</p> +<p> + "I 'ave not," I ses, drawing myself up. "'Ave you?" +</p> +<p> + "No," he ses. +</p> +<p> + "We missed it." +</p> +<p> + "Missed it?" I ses, staring at 'im. +</p> +<p> + "Yes," he ses, nodding. "The day arter you came out screaming, and + cuddling me like a frightened baby, it shipped as A.B. on the barque + Ocean King, for Valparaiso. We missed it by a few hours. Next time you + see a ghost, knock it down fust and go and cuddle the police arterwards." +</p> +<a name="2H_4_4"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<h2> + BEDRIDDEN +</h2> +<p> + July 12, 1915.—Disquieting rumours to the effect that epidemic of + Billetitis hitherto confined to the north of King's Road shows signs of + spreading. +</p> +<p> + July 14.—Report that two Inns of Court men have been seen peeping over + my gate. +</p> +<p> + July 16.—Informed that soldier of agreeable appearance and charming + manners requests interview with me. Took a dose of Phospherine and went. + Found composite photograph of French, Joffre, and Hindenburg waiting for + me in the hall. Smiled (he did, I mean) and gave me the mutilated form + of salute reserved for civilians. Introduced himself as Quartermaster- + Sergeant Beddem, and stated that the Inns of Court O.T.C. was going + under canvas next week. After which he gulped. Meantime could I take in + a billet. Questioned as to what day the corps was going into camp said + that he believed it was Monday, but was not quite sure—might possibly be + Tuesday. Swallowed again and coughed a little. Accepted billet and felt + completely re-warded by smile. Q.M.S. bade me good-bye, and then with + the air of a man suddenly remembering something, asked me whether I could + take two. Excused myself and interviewed my C.O. behind the dining-room + door. Came back and accepted. Q.M.S. so overjoyed (apparently) that he + fell over the scraper. Seemed to jog his memory. He paused, and gazing + in absent fashion at the topmost rose on the climber in the porch, asked + whether I could take three! Added hopefully that the third was only a + boy. Excused myself. Heated debate with C.O. Subject: sheets. + Returned with me to explain to the Q.M.S. He smiled. C.O. accepted at + once, and, returning smile, expressed regret at size and position of + bedrooms available. Q.M.S. went off swinging cane jauntily. +</p> +<p> + July 17.—Billets arrived. Spoke to them about next Monday and canvas. + They seemed surprised. Strange how the military authorities decline to + take men into their confidence merely because they are privates. Let + them upstairs. They went (for first and last time) on tiptoe. +</p> +<p> + July 18.—Saw Q.M.S. Beddem in the town. Took shelter in the King's + Arms. +</p> +<p> + Jug. 3.—Went to Cornwall. +</p> +<p> + Aug. 31.—Returned. Billets received me very hospitably. +</p> +<p> + Sept. 4.—Private Budd, electrical engineer, dissatisfied with + appearance of bell-push in dining-room, altered it. +</p> +<p> + Sept. 5.—Bells out of order. +</p> +<p> + Sept. 6.—Private Merited, also an electrical engineer, helped Private + Budd to repair bells. +</p> +<p> + Sept. 7.—Private Budd helped Private Merited to repair bells. +</p> +<p> + Sept. 8.—Privates Budd and Merited helped each other to repair bells. +</p> +<p> + Sept. 9.—Sent to local tradesman to put my bells in order. +</p> +<p> + Sept. 15.—Told that Q.M.S. Beddem wished to see me. Saw C.O. first. + She thought he had possibly come to take some of the billets away. + Q.M.S. met my approach with a smile that re-minded me vaguely of picture- + postcards I had seen. Awfully sorry to trouble me, but Private Montease, + just back from three weeks' holiday with bronchitis, was sleeping in the + wood-shed on three planks and a tin-tack. Beamed at me and waited. Went + and bought another bed-stead. +</p> +<p> + Sept. 16.—Private Montease and a cough entered into residence. +</p> +<p> + Sept. 17, 11.45 p.m.—Maid came to bedroom-door with some cough lozenges + which she asked me to take to the new billet. Took them. Private + Montease thanked me, but said he didn't mind coughing. Said it was an + heirloom; Montease cough, known in highest circles all over Scotland + since time of Young Pretender. +</p> +<p> + Sept. 20.—Private Montease installed in easy-chair in dining-room with + touch of bronchitis, looking up trains to Bournemouth. +</p> +<p> + Sept. 21.—Private Montease in bed all day. Cook anxious "to do her + bit" rubbed his chest with home-made embrocation. Believe it is same + stuff she rubs chests in hall with. Smells the same anyway. +</p> +<p> + Sept. 24.—Private Montease, complaining of slight rawness of chest, but + otherwise well, returned to duty. +</p> +<p> + Oct. 5.—Cough worse again. Private Montease thinks that with care it + may turn to bronchitis. Borrowed an A.B.C. +</p> +<p> + Oct. 6.—Private Montease relates uncanny experience. Woke up with + feeling of suffocation to find an enormous black-currant and glycerine + jujube wedged in his gullet. Never owned such a thing in his life. + Seems to be unaware that he always sleeps with his mouth open. +</p> +<p> + Nov. 14.—Private Bowser, youngest and tallest of my billets, gazetted. +</p> +<p> + Nov. 15, 10.35 a.m.—Private Bowser in tip-top spirits said good-bye to + us all. +</p> +<p> + 10.45.—Told that Q.M.S. Beddem desired to see me. Capitulated. New + billet, Private Early, armed to the teeth, turned up in the evening. + Said that he was a Yorkshireman. Said that Yorkshire was the finest + county in England, and Yorkshiremen the finest men in the world. Stood + toying with his bayonet and waiting for contradiction. +</p> +<p> + Jan. 5, 1916.—Standing in the garden just after lunch was witness to + startling phenomenon. Q.M.S. Beddem came towards front-gate with a + smile so expansive that gate after first trembling violently on its + hinges swung open of its own accord. Q.M.S., with smile (sad), said he + was in trouble. Very old member of the Inns of Court, Private Keen, had + re-joined, and he wanted a good billet for him. Would cheerfully give up + his own bed, but it wasn't long enough. Not to be outdone in hospitality + by my own gate accepted Private Keen. Q.M.S. digging hole in my path + with toe of right boot, and for first and only time manifesting signs of + nervousness, murmured that two life-long friends of Private Keen's had + rejoined with him. Known as the Three Inseparables. Where they were to + sleep, unless I——. Fled to house, and locking myself in top-attic + watched Q.M.S. from window. He departed with bent head and swagger-cane + reversed. +</p> +<p> + Jan 6.—Private Keen arrived. Turned out to be son of an old Chief of + mine. Resolved not to visit the sins of the father on the head of a + child six feet two high and broad in proportion. +</p> +<p> + Feb. 6.—Private Keen came home with a temperature. +</p> +<p> + Feb. 7.—M.O. diagnosed influenza. Was afraid it would spread. +</p> +<p> + Feb. 8.—Warned the other four billets. They seemed amused. Pointed + out that influenza had no terrors for men in No. 2 Company, who were + doomed to weekly night-ops. under Major Carryon. +</p> +<p> + Feb. 9.—House strangely and pleasantly quiet. Went to see how Private + Keen was progressing, and found the other four billets sitting in a row + on his bed practising deep-breathing exercises. +</p> +<p> + Feb. 16.—Billets on night-ops. until late hour. Spoke in highest terms + of Major Carryon's marching powers—also in other terms. +</p> +<p> + March 3.—Waited up until midnight for Private Merited, who had gone to + Slough on his motor-bike. +</p> +<p> + March 4, 1.5 a.m.—Awakened by series of explosions from over-worked, or + badly-worked, motor-bike. Put head out of window and threw key to + Private Merited. He seemed excited. Said he had been chased all the way + from Chesham by a pink rat with yellow spots. Advised him to go to bed. + Set him an example. +</p> +<p> + 1.10. a.m.—Heard somebody in the pantry. 2.10. a.m.—Heard Private + Merited going upstairs to bed. +</p> +<p> + 2.16 a.m.—Heard Private Merited still going upstairs to bed. +</p> +<p> + 2.20-3.15. a.m.—Heard Private Merited getting to bed. +</p> +<p> + April 3, 12.30 a.m.—Town-hooter announced Zeppelins and excited soldier + called up my billets from their beds to go and frighten them off. + Pleasant to see superiority of billets over the hooter: that only emitted + three blasts. +</p> +<p> + 12.50 a.m.—Billets returned with exception of Private Merited, who was + retained for sake of his motor-bike. +</p> +<p> + 9 a.m.—On way to bath-room ran into Private Merited, who, looking very + glum and sleepy, inquired whether I had a copy of the Exchange and Mart + in the house. +</p> +<p> + 10 p.m.—Overheard billets discussing whether it was worth while removing + boots before going to bed until the Zeppelin scare was over. Joined in + discussion. +</p> +<p> + May 2.—Rumours that the Inns of Court were going under canvas. + Discredited them. +</p> +<p> + May 5.—Rumours grow stronger. +</p> +<p> + May 6.—Billets depressed. Begin to think perhaps there is something in + rumours after all. +</p> +<p> + May 9.-All doubts removed. Tents begin to spring up with the suddenness + of mushrooms in fields below Berkhamsted Place. +</p> +<p> + May 18, LIBERATION DAY.—Bade a facetious good-bye to my billets; + response lacking in bonhomie. +</p> +<p> + May 19.-House delightfully quiet. Presented caller of unkempt appearance + at back-door with remains of pair of military boots, three empty shaving- + stick tins, and a couple of partially bald tooth-brushes. +</p> +<p> + May 21.—In afternoon went round and looked at camp. Came home smiling, + and went to favourite seat in garden to smoke. Discovered Private Early + lying on it fast asleep. Went to study. Private Merited at table + writing long and well-reasoned letter to his tailor. As he said he could + never write properly with anybody else in the room, left him and went to + bath-room. Door locked. Peevish but familiar voice, with a Scotch + accent, asked me what I wanted; also complained of temperature of water. +</p> +<p> + May 22.—After comparing notes with neighbours, feel deeply grateful to + Q.M.S. Beddem for sending me the best six men in the corps. +</p> +<p> + July 15.—Feel glad to have been associated, however remotely and humbly, + with a corps, the names of whose members appear on the Roll of Honour of + every British regiment. +</p> +<a name="2H_4_5"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<h2> + THE CONVERT +</h2> +<p> + Mr. Purnip took the arm of the new recruit and hung over him almost + tenderly as they walked along; Mr. Billing, with a look of conscious + virtue on his jolly face, listened with much satisfaction to his friend's + compliments. +</p> +<p> + "It's such an example," said the latter. "Now we've got you the others + will follow like sheep. You will be a bright lamp in the darkness." +</p> +<p> + "Wot's good enough for me ought to be good enough for them," said Mr. + Billing, modestly. "They'd better not let me catch—" +</p> +<p> + "H'sh! H'sh!" breathed Mr. Purnip, tilting his hat and wiping his bald, + benevolent head. +</p> +<p> + "I forgot," said the other, with something like a sigh. "No more + fighting; but suppose somebody hits me?" +</p> +<p> + "Turn the other cheek," replied Mr. Purnip. +</p> +<p> + "They won't hit that; and when they see you standing there smiling at + them—" +</p> +<p> + "After being hit?" interrupted Mr. Billing. +</p> +<p> + "After being hit," assented the other, "they'll be ashamed of themselves, + and it'll hurt them more than if you struck them." +</p> +<p> + "Let's 'ope so," said the convert; "but it don't sound reasonable. I can + hit a man pretty 'ard. Not that I'm bad-tempered, mind you; a bit quick, + p'r'aps. And, after all, a good smack in the jaw saves any amount of + argufying." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Purnip smiled, and, as they walked along, painted a glowing picture + of the influence to be wielded by a first-class fighting-man who refused + to fight. It was a rough neighbourhood, and he recognized with sorrow + that more respect was paid to a heavy fist than to a noble intellect or a + loving heart. +</p> +<p> + "And you combine them all," he said, patting his companion's arm. +</p> +<p> + Mr. Billing smiled. "You ought to know best," he said, modestly. +</p> +<p> + "You'll be surprised to find how easy it is," continued Mr. Purnip. "You + will go from strength to strength. Old habits will disappear, and you + will hardly know you have lost them. In a few months' time you will + probably be wondering what you could ever have seen in beer, for + example." +</p> +<p> + "I thought you said you didn't want me to give up beer?" said the other. +</p> +<p> + "We don't," said Mr. Purnip. "I mean that as you grow in stature you + will simply lose the taste for it." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Billing came to a sudden full stop. "D'ye mean I shall lose my + liking for a drop o' beer without being able to help myself?" he + demanded, in an anxious voice. +</p> +<p> + "Of course, it doesn't happen in every case," he said, hastily. +</p> +<p> + Mr. Billing's features relaxed. "Well, let's 'ope I shall be one of the + fortunate ones," he said, simply. "I can put up with a good deal, but + when it comes to beer——" +</p> +<p> + "We shall see," said the other, smiling. +</p> +<p> + "We don't want to interfere with anybody's comfort; we want to make them + happier, that's all. A little more kindness between man and man; a + little more consideration for each other; a little more brightness in + dull lives." +</p> +<p> + He paused at the corner of the street, and, with a hearty handshake, went + off. Mr. Billing, a prey to somewhat mixed emotions, continued on his + way home. The little knot of earnest men and women who had settled in + the district to spread light and culture had been angling for him for + some time. He wondered, as he walked, what particular bait it was that + had done the mischief. +</p> +<p> + "They've got me at last," he remarked, as he opened the house-door and + walked into his small kitchen. "I couldn't say 'no' to Mr. Purnip." +</p> +<p> + "Wish 'em joy," said Mrs. Billing, briefly. "Did you wipe your boots?" +</p> +<p> + Her husband turned without a word, and, retreating to the mat, executed a + prolonged double-shuffle. +</p> +<p> + "You needn't wear it out," said the surprised Mrs. Billing. +</p> +<p> + "We've got to make people 'appier," said her husband, seriously; "be + kinder to 'em, and brighten up their dull lives a bit. That's wot Mr. + Purnip says." +</p> +<p> + "You'll brighten 'em up all right," declared Mrs. Billing, with a sniff. + "I sha'n't forget last Tuesday week—no, not if I live to be a hundred. + You'd ha' brightened up the police-station if I 'adn't got you home just + in the nick of time." +</p> +<p> + Her husband, who was by this time busy under the scullery-tap, made no + reply. He came from it spluttering, and, seizing a small towel, stood in + the door-way burnishing his face and regarding his wife with a smile + which Mr. Purnip himself could not have surpassed. He sat down to + supper, and between bites explained in some detail the lines on which his + future life was to be run. As an earnest of good faith, he consented, + after a short struggle, to a slip of oil-cloth for the passage; a pair of + vases for the front room; and a new and somewhat expensive corn-cure for + Mrs. Billing. +</p> +<p> + "And let's 'ope you go on as you've begun," said that gratified lady. + "There's something in old Purnip after all. I've been worrying you for + months for that oilcloth. Are you going to help me wash up? Mr. Purnip + would." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Billing appeared not to hear, and, taking up his cap, strolled slowly + in the direction of the Blue Lion. It was a beautiful summer evening, + and his bosom swelled as he thought of the improvements that a little + brotherliness might effect in Elk Street. Engrossed in such ideas, it + almost hurt him to find that, as he entered one door of the Blue Lion, + two gentlemen, forgetting all about their beer, disappeared through the + other. +</p> +<p> + "Wot 'ave they run away like that for?" he demanded, looking round. + "I wouldn't hurt 'em." +</p> +<p> + "Depends on wot you call hurting, Joe," said a friend. +</p> +<p> + Mr. Billing shook his head. "They've no call to be afraid of me," he + said, gravely. "I wouldn't hurt a fly; I've got a new 'art." +</p> +<p> + "A new wot?" inquired his friend, staring. +</p> +<p> + "A new 'art," repeated the other. "I've given up fighting and swearing, + and drinking too much. I'm going to lead a new life and do all the good + I can; I'm going—" +</p> +<p> + "Glory! Glory!" ejaculated a long, thin youth, and, making a dash for + the door, disappeared. +</p> +<p> + "He'll know me better in time," said Mr. Billing. "Why, I wouldn't hurt + a fly. I want to do good to people; not to hurt 'em. I'll have a pint," + he added, turning to the bar. +</p> +<p> + "Not here you won't," said the landlord, eyeing him coldly. +</p> +<p> + "Why not?" demanded the astonished Mr. Billing. +</p> +<p> + "You've had all you ought to have already," was the reply. "And there's + one thing I'll swear to—you ain't had it 'ere." +</p> +<p> + "I haven't 'ad a drop pass my lips began the outraged Mr. Billing. +</p> +<p> + "Yes, I know," said the other, wearily, as he shifted one or two glasses + and wiped the counter; "I've heard it all before, over and over again. + Mind you, I've been in this business thirty years, and if I don't know + when a man's had his whack, and a drop more, nobody does. You get off + 'ome and ask your missis to make you a nice cup o' good strong tea, and + then get up to bed and sleep it off." +</p> +<p> + "I dare say," said Mr. Billing, with cold dignity, as he paused at the + door—"I dare say I may give up beer altogether." +</p> +<p> + He stood outside pondering over the unforeseen difficulties attendant + upon his new career, moving a few inches to one side as Mr. Ricketts, a + foe of long standing, came towards the public-house, and, halting a yard + or two away, eyed him warily. +</p> +<p> + "Come along," said Mr. Billing, speaking somewhat loudly, for the benefit + of the men in the bar; "I sha'n't hurt you; my fighting days are over." +</p> +<p> + "Yes, I dessay," replied the other, edging away. +</p> +<p> + "It's all right, Bill," said a mutual friend, through the half-open door; + "he's got a new 'art." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Ricketts looked perplexed. "'Art disease, d'ye mean?" he inquired, + hopefully. "Can't he fight no more?" +</p> +<p> + "A new 'art," said Mr. Billing. "It's as strong as ever it was, but it's + changed—brother." +</p> +<p> + "If you call me 'brother' agin I'll give you something for yourself, and + chance it," said Mr. Ricketts, ferociously. "I'm a pore man, but I've + got my pride." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Billing, with a smile charged with brotherly love, leaned his left + cheek towards him. "Hit it," he said, gently. +</p> +<p> + "Give it a smack and run, Bill," said the voice of a well-wisher inside. +</p> +<p> + "There'd be no need for 'im to run," said Mr. Billing. "I wouldn't hit + 'im back for anything. I should turn the other cheek." +</p> +<p> + "Whaffor?" inquired the amazed Mr. Ricketts. +</p> +<p> + "For another swipe," said Mr. Billing, radiantly. +</p> +<p> + In the fraction of a second he got the first, and reeled back staggering. + The onlookers from the bar came out hastily. Mr. Ricketts, somewhat + pale, stood his ground. +</p> +<p> + "You see, I don't hit you," said Mr. Billing, with a ghastly attempt at a + smile. +</p> +<p> + He stood rubbing his cheek gently, and, remembering Mr. Purnip's + statements, slowly, inch by inch, turned the other in the direction of + his adversary. The circuit was still incomplete when Mr. Ricketts, + balancing himself carefully, fetched it a smash that nearly burst it. + Mr. Billing, somewhat jarred by his contact with the pavement, rose + painfully and confronted him. +</p> +<p> + "I've only got two cheeks, mind," he said, slowly. +</p> +<p> + Mr. Ricketts sighed. "I wish you'd got a blinking dozen," he said, + wistfully. "Well, so long. Be good." +</p> +<p> + He walked into the Blue Lion absolutely free from that sense of shame + which Mr. Purnip had predicted, and, accepting a pint from an admirer, + boasted noisily of his exploit. Mr. Billing, suffering both mentally and + physically, walked slowly home to his astonished wife. +</p> +<p> + "P'r'aps he'll be ashamed of hisself when 'e comes to think it over," he + murmured, as Mrs. Billing, rendered almost perfect by practice, + administered first aid. +</p> +<p> + "I s'pect he's crying his eyes out," she said, with a sniff. "Tell me if + that 'urts." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Billing told her, then, suddenly remembering himself, issued an + expurgated edition. +</p> +<p> + "I'm sorry for the next man that 'its you," said his wife, as she drew + back and regarded her handiwork. +</p> +<p> + "'Well, you needn't be," said Mr. Billing, with dignity. "It would take + more than a couple o' props in the jaw to make me alter my mind when I've + made it up. You ought to know that by this time. Hurry up and finish. + I want you to go to the corner and fetch me a pot." +</p> +<p> + "What, ain't you going out agin?" demanded his astonished wife. +</p> +<p> + Mr. Billing shook his head. "Somebody else might want to give me one," + he said, resignedly, "and I've 'ad about all I want to-night." +</p> +<p> + His face was still painful next morning, but as he sat at breakfast in + the small kitchen he was able to refer to Mr. Ricketts in terms which + were an eloquent testimony to Mr. Purnip's teaching. Mrs. Billing, + unable to contain herself, wandered off into the front room with a + duster. +</p> +<p> + "Are you nearly ready to go?" she inquired, returning after a short + interval. +</p> +<p> + "Five minutes," said Mr. Billing, nodding. "I'll just light my pipe and + then I'm off." +</p> +<p> + "'Cos there's two or three waiting outside for you," added his wife. +</p> +<p> + Mr. Billing rose. "Ho, is there?" he said, grimly, as he removed his + coat and proceeded to roll up his shirt-sleeves. "I'll learn 'em. I'll + give 'em something to wait for. I'll——" +</p> +<p> + His voice died away as he saw the triumph in his wife's face, and, + drawing down his sleeves again, he took up his coat and stood eyeing her + in genuine perplexity. +</p> +<p> + "Tell 'em I've gorn," he said, at last. +</p> +<p> + "And what about telling lies?" demanded his wife. "What would your Mr. + Purnip say to that?" +</p> +<p> + "You do as you're told," exclaimed the harassed Mr. Billing. "I'm not + going to tell 'em; it's you." +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Billing returned to the parlour, and, with Mr. Billing lurking in + the background, busied herself over a china flower-pot that stood in the + window, and turned an anxious eye upon three men waiting outside. After + a glance or two she went to the door. +</p> +<p> + "Did you want to see my husband?" she inquired. +</p> +<p> + The biggest of the three nodded. "Yus," he said, shortly. +</p> +<p> + "I'm sorry," said Mrs. Billing, "but he 'ad to go early this morning. + Was it anything partikler?" +</p> +<p> + "Gorn?" said the other, in disappointed tones. "Well, you tell 'im I'll + see 'im later on." +</p> +<p> + He turned away, and, followed by the other two, walked slowly up the + road. Mr. Billing, after waiting till the coast was clear, went off in + the other direction. +</p> +<p> + He sought counsel of his friend and mentor that afternoon, and stood + beaming with pride at the praise lavished upon him. Mr. Purnip's + co-workers were no less enthusiastic than their chief; and various + suggestions were made to Mr. Billing as to his behaviour in the unlikely + event of further attacks upon his noble person. +</p> +<p> + He tried to remember the suggestions in the harassing days that followed; + baiting Joe Billing becoming popular as a pastime from which no evil + results need be feared. It was creditable to his fellow-citizens that + most of them refrained from violence with a man who declined to hit back, + but as a butt his success was assured. The night when a gawky lad of + eighteen drank up his beer, and then invited him to step outside if he + didn't like it, dwelt long in his memory. And Elk Street thrilled one + evening at the sight of their erstwhile champion flying up the road hotly + pursued by a foeman half his size. His explanation to his indignant wife + that, having turned the other cheek the night before, he was in no mood + for further punishment, was received in chilling silence. +</p> +<p> + "They'll soon get tired of it," he said, hopefully; "and I ain't going to + be beat by a lot of chaps wot I could lick with one 'and tied behind me. + They'll get to understand in time; Mr. Purnip says so. It's a pity that + you don't try and do some good yourself." +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Billing received the suggestion with a sniff; but the seed was sown. + She thought the matter over in private, and came to the conclusion that, + if her husband wished her to participate in good works, it was not for + her to deny him. Hitherto her efforts in that direction had been + promptly suppressed; Mr. Billing's idea being that if a woman looked + after her home and her husband properly there should be neither time + nor desire for anything else. His surprise on arriving home to tea on + Saturday afternoon, and finding a couple of hard-working neighbours + devouring his substance, almost deprived him of speech. +</p> +<p> + "Poor things," said his wife, after the guests had gone; "they did enjoy + it. It's cheered 'em up wonderful. You and Mr. Purnip are quite right. + I can see that now. You can tell him that it was you what put it into my + 'art." +</p> +<p> + "Me? Why, I never dreamt o' such a thing," declared the surprised Mr. + Billing. "And there's other ways of doing good besides asking a pack of + old women in to tea." +</p> +<p> + "I know there is," said his wife. "All in good time," she added, with a + far-away look in her eyes. +</p> +<p> + Mr. Billing cleared his throat, but nothing came of it. He cleared it + again. +</p> +<p> + "I couldn't let you do all the good," said his wife, hastily. "It + wouldn't be fair. I must help." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Billing lit his pipe noisily, and then took it out into the back-yard + and sat down to think over the situation. The ungenerous idea that his + wife was making goodness serve her own ends was the first that occurred + to him. +</p> +<p> + His suspicions increased with time. Mrs. Billing's good works seemed to + be almost entirely connected with hospitality. True, she had entertained + Mr. Purnip and one of the ladies from the Settlement to tea, but that + only riveted his bonds more firmly. Other visitors included his sister- + in-law, for whom he had a great distaste, and some of the worst-behaved + children in the street. +</p> +<p> + "It's only high spirits," said Mrs. Billing; "all children are like that. + And I do it to help the mothers." +</p> +<p> + "And 'cos you like children," said her husband, preserving his good- + humour with an effort. +</p> +<p> + There was a touch of monotony about the new life, and the good deeds that + accompanied it, which, to a man of ardent temperament, was apt to pall. + And Elk Street, instead of giving him the credit which was his due, + preferred to ascribe the change in his behaviour to what they called + being "a bit barmy on the crumpet." +</p> +<p> + He came home one evening somewhat dejected, brightening up as he stood + in the passage and inhaled the ravishing odours from the kitchen. Mrs. + Billing, with a trace of nervousness somewhat unaccountable in view of + the excellent quality of the repast provided, poured him out a glass of + beer, and passed flattering comment upon his appearance. +</p> +<p> + "Wot's the game?" he inquired. +</p> +<p> + "Game?" repeated his wife, in a trembling voice. "Nothing. 'Ow do you + find that steak-pudding? I thought of giving you one every Wednesday." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Billing put down his knife and fork and sat regarding her + thoughtfully. Then he pushed back his chair suddenly, and, a picture of + consternation and wrath, held up his hand for silence. +</p> +<p> + "W-w-wot is it?" he demanded. "A cat?" +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Billing made no reply, and her husband sprang to his feet as a long, + thin wailing sounded through the house. A note of temper crept into it + and strengthened it. +</p> +<p> + "Wot is it?" demanded Mr. Billing again. "It's—it's Mrs. Smith's + Charlie," stammered his wife. +</p> +<p> + "In—in my bedroom?" exclaimed her husband, in incredulous accents. + "Wot's it doing there?" +</p> +<p> + "I took it for the night," said his wife hurriedly. "Poor thing, what + with the others being ill she's 'ad a dreadful time, and she said if I'd + take Charlie for a few—for a night, she might be able to get some + sleep." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Billing choked. "And what about my sleep?" he shouted. "Chuck it + outside at once. D'ye hear me?" +</p> +<p> + His words fell on empty air, his wife having already sped upstairs to + pacify Master Smith by a rhythmical and monotonous thumping on the back. + Also she lifted up a thin and not particularly sweet voice and sang to + him. Mr. Billing, finishing his supper in indignant silence, told + himself grimly that he was "beginning to have enough of it." +</p> +<p> + He spent the evening at the Charlton Arms, and, returning late, went + slowly and heavily up to bed. In the light of a shaded candle he saw a + small, objectionable-looking infant fast asleep on two chairs by the side + of the bed. +</p> +<p> + "H'sh!" said his wife, in a thrilling whisper. "He's just gone off." +</p> +<p> + "D'ye mean I mustn't open my mouth in my own bedroom?" demanded the + indignant man, loudly. +</p> +<p> + "H'sh!" said his wife again. +</p> +<p> + It was too late. Master Smith, opening first one eye and then the other, + finished by opening his mouth. The noise was appalling. +</p> +<p> + "H'sh! H'sh!" repeated Mrs. Billing, as her husband began to add to the + noise. "Don't wake 'im right up." +</p> +<p> + "Right up?" repeated the astonished man. "Right up? Why, is he doing + this in 'is sleep?" +</p> +<p> + He subsided into silence, and, undressing with stealthy care, crept into + bed and lay there, marvelling at his self-control. He was a sound + sleeper, but six times at least he was awakened by Mrs. Billing slipping + out of bed—regardless of draughts to her liege lord—and marching up and + down the room with the visitor in her arms. He rose in the morning and + dressed in ominous silence. +</p> +<p> + "I 'ope he didn't disturb you," said his wife, anxiously. +</p> +<p> + "You've done it," replied Mr. Billing. "You've upset everything now. + Since I joined the Purnip lot everybody's took advantage of me; now I'm + going to get some of my own back. You wouldn't ha' dreamt of behaving + like this a few weeks ago." +</p> +<p> + "Oh, Joe!" said his wife, entreatingly; "and everybody's been so happy!" +</p> +<p> + "Except me," retorted Joe Billing. "You come down and get my breakfast + ready. If I start early I shall catch Mr. Bill Ricketts on 'is way to + work. And mind, if I find that steam-orgin 'ere when I come 'ome + to-night you'll hear of it." +</p> +<p> + He left the house with head erect and the light of battle in his eyes, + and, meeting Mr. Ricketts at the corner, gave that justly aggrieved + gentleman the surprise of his life. Elk Street thrilled to the fact that + Mr. Billing had broken out again, and spoke darkly of what the evening + might bring forth. Curious eyes followed his progress as he returned + home from work, and a little later on the news was spread abroad that he + was out and paying off old scores with an ardour that nothing could + withstand. +</p> +<p> + "And wot about your change of 'art?" demanded one indignant matron, as + her husband reached home five seconds ahead of Mr. Billing and hid in the + scullery. +</p> +<p> + "It's changed agin," said Mr. Billing, simply. +</p> +<p> + He finished the evening in the Blue Lion, where he had one bar almost to + himself, and, avoiding his wife's reproachful glance when he arrived + home, procured some warm water and began to bathe his honourable scars. +</p> +<p> + "Mr. Purnip 'as been round with another gentleman," said his wife. +</p> +<p> + Mr. Billing said, "Oh!" +</p> +<p> + "Very much upset they was, and 'ope you'll go and see them," she + continued. +</p> +<p> + Mr. Billing said "Oh!" again; and, after thinking the matter over, called + next day at the Settlement and explained his position. +</p> +<p> + "It's all right for gentlemen like you," he said civilly. "But a man. + like me can't call his soul 'is own—or even 'is bedroom. Everybody + takes advantage of 'im. Nobody ever gives you a punch, and, as for + putting babies in your bedroom, they wouldn't dream of it." +</p> +<p> + He left amid expressions of general regret, turning a deaf ear to all + suggestions about making another start, and went off exulting in his + freedom. +</p> +<p> + His one trouble was Mr. Purnip, that estimable gentleman, who seemed to + have a weird gift of meeting him at all sorts of times and places, never + making any allusion to his desertion, but showing quite clearly by his + manner that he still hoped for the return of the wanderer. It was + awkward for a man of sensitive disposition, and Mr. Billing, before + entering a street, got into the habit of peering round the corner first. +</p> +<p> + He pulled up suddenly one evening as he saw his tenacious friend, + accompanied by a lady-member, some little distance ahead. Then he sprang + forward with fists clenched as a passer-by, after scowling at Mr. Purnip, + leaned forward and deliberately blew a mouthful of smoke into the face of + his companion. +</p> +<p> + Mr. Billing stopped again and stood gaping with astonishment. The + aggressor was getting up from the pavement, while Mr. Purnip, in an + absolutely correct attitude, stood waiting for him. Mr. Billing in a + glow of delight edged forward, and, with a few other fortunates, stood by + watching one of the best fights that had ever been seen in the district. + Mr. Purnip's foot-work was excellent, and the way he timed his blows made + Mr. Billing's eyes moist with admiration. +</p> +<p> + It was over at last. The aggressor went limping off, and Mr. Purnip, + wiping his bald head, picked up his battered and dusty hat from the + roadway and brushed it on his sleeve. He turned with a start and a blush + to meet the delighted gaze of Mr. Billing. +</p> +<p> + "I'm ashamed of myself," he murmured, brokenly—"ashamed." +</p> +<p> + "Ashamed!" exclaimed the amazed Mr. Billing. "Why, a pro couldn't ha' + done better." +</p> +<p> + "Such an awful example," moaned the other. "All my good work here thrown + away." +</p> +<p> + "Don't you believe it, sir," said Mr. Billing, earnestly. "As soon as + this gets about you'll get more members than you want a'most. I'm coming + back, for one." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Purnip turned and grasped his hand. +</p> +<p> + "I understand things now," said Mr. Billing, nodding sagely. "Turning + the other cheek's all right so long as you don't do it always. If you + don't let 'em know whether you are going to turn the other cheek or knock + their blessed heads off, it's all right. 'Arf the trouble in the world + is caused by letting people know too much." +</p> +<a name="2H_4_6"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<h2> + HUSBANDRY +</h2> +<p> + Dealing with a man, said the night-watchman, thoughtfully, is as easy as + a teetotaller walking along a nice wide pavement; dealing with a woman is + like the same teetotaller, arter four or five whiskies, trying to get up + a step that ain't there. If a man can't get 'is own way he eases 'is + mind with a little nasty language, and then forgets all about it; if a + woman can't get 'er own way she flies into a temper and reminds you of + something you oughtn't to ha' done ten years ago. Wot a woman would do + whose 'usband had never done anything wrong I can't think. +</p> +<p> + I remember a young feller telling me about a row he 'ad with 'is wife + once. He 'adn't been married long and he talked as if the way she + carried on was unusual. Fust of all, he said, she spoke to 'im in a + cooing sort o' voice and pulled his moustache, then when he wouldn't give + way she worked herself up into a temper and said things about 'is sister. + Arter which she went out o' the room and banged the door so hard it blew + down a vase off the fireplace. Four times she came back to tell 'im + other things she 'ad thought of, and then she got so upset she 'ad to go + up to bed and lay down instead of getting his tea. When that didn't do + no good she refused her food, and when 'e took her up toast and tea she + wouldn't look at it. Said she wanted to die. He got quite uneasy till + 'e came 'ome the next night and found the best part of a loaf o' bread, a + quarter o' butter, and a couple o' chops he 'ad got in for 'is supper had + gorn; and then when he said 'e was glad she 'ad got 'er appetite back she + turned round and said that he grudged 'er the food she ate. +</p> +<p> + And no woman ever owned up as 'ow she was wrong; and the more you try and + prove it to 'em the louder they talk about something else. I know wot + I'm talking about because a woman made a mistake about me once, and + though she was proved to be in the wrong, and it was years ago, my missus + shakes her 'ead about it to this day. +</p> +<p> + It was about eight years arter I 'ad left off going to sea and took up + night-watching. A beautiful summer evening it was, and I was sitting by + the gate smoking a pipe till it should be time to light up, when I + noticed a woman who 'ad just passed turn back and stand staring at me. + I've 'ad that sort o' thing before, and I went on smoking and looking + straight in front of me. Fat middle-aged woman she was, wot 'ad lost her + good looks and found others. She stood there staring and staring, and by + and by she tries a little cough. +</p> +<p> + I got up very slow then, and, arter looking all round at the evening, + without seeing 'er, I was just going to step inside and shut the wicket, + when she came closer. +</p> +<p> + "Bill!" she ses, in a choking sort o' voice. +</p> +<p> + "Bill!" +</p> +<p> + I gave her a look that made her catch 'er breath, and I was just stepping + through the wicket, when she laid hold of my coat and tried to hold me + back. +</p> +<p> + "Do you know wot you're a-doing of?" I ses, turning on her. +</p> +<p> + "Oh, Bill dear," she ses, "don't talk to me like that. Do you want to + break my 'art? Arter all these years!" +</p> +<p> + She pulled out a dirt-coloured pocket-'ankercher and stood there dabbing + her eyes with it. One eye at a time she dabbed, while she looked at me + reproachful with the other. And arter eight dabs, four to each eye, she + began to sob as if her 'art would break. +</p> +<p> + "Go away," I ses, very slow. "You can't stand making that noise outside + my wharf. Go away and give somebody else a treat." +</p> +<p> + Afore she could say anything the potman from the Tiger, a nasty ginger- + 'aired little chap that nobody liked, come by and stopped to pat her on + the back. +</p> +<p> + "There, there, don't take on, mother," he ses. "Wot's he been a-doing to + you?" +</p> +<p> + "You get off 'ome," I ses, losing my temper. +</p> +<p> + "Wot d'ye mean trying to drag me into it? I've never seen the woman + afore in my life." +</p> +<p> + "Oh, Bill!" ses the woman, sobbing louder than ever. "Oh! Oh! Oh!" +</p> +<p> + "'Ow does she know your name, then?" ses the little beast of a potman. +</p> +<p> + I didn't answer him. I might have told 'im that there's about five + million Bills in England, but I didn't. I stood there with my arms + folded acrost my chest, and looked at him, superior. +</p> +<p> + "Where 'ave you been all this long, long time?" she ses, between her + sobs. "Why did you leave your happy 'ome and your children wot loved + you?" +</p> +<p> + The potman let off a whistle that you could have 'eard acrost the river, + and as for me, I thought I should ha' dropped. To have a woman standing + sobbing and taking my character away like that was a'most more than I + could bear. +</p> +<p> + "Did he run away from you?" ses the potman. +</p> +<p> + "Ye-ye-yes," she ses. "He went off on a vy'ge to China over nine years + ago, and that's the last I saw of 'im till to-night. A lady friend o' + mine thought she reckernized 'im yesterday, and told me." +</p> +<p> + "I shouldn't cry over 'im," ses the potman, shaking his 'ead: "he ain't + worth it. If I was you I should just give 'im a bang or two over the + 'ead with my umberella, and then give 'im in charge." +</p> +<p> + I stepped inside the wicket—backwards—and then I slammed it in their + faces, and putting the key in my pocket, walked up the wharf. I knew it + was no good standing out there argufying. I felt sorry for the pore + thing in a way. If she really thought I was her 'usband, and she 'ad + lost me—— I put one or two things straight and then, for the sake of + distracting my mind, I 'ad a word or two with the skipper of the John + Henry, who was leaning against the side of his ship, smoking. +</p> +<p> + "Wot's that tapping noise?" he ses, all of a sudden. "'Ark!" +</p> +<p> + I knew wot it was. It was the handle of that umberella 'ammering on the + gate. I went cold all over, and then when I thought that the pot-man was + most likely encouraging 'er to do it I began to boil. +</p> +<p> + "Somebody at the gate," ses the skipper. +</p> +<p> + "Aye, aye," I ses. "I know all about it." +</p> +<p> + I went on talking until at last the skipper asked me whether he was + wandering in 'is mind, or whether I was. The mate came up from the cabin + just then, and o' course he 'ad to tell me there was somebody knocking at + the gate. +</p> +<p> + "Ain't you going to open it?" ses the skipper, staring at me. +</p> +<p> + "Let 'em ring," I ses, off-hand. +</p> +<p> + The words was 'ardly out of my mouth afore they did ring, and if they 'ad + been selling muffins they couldn't ha' kept it up harder. And all the + time the umberella was doing rat-a-tat tats on the gate, while a voice— + much too loud for the potman's—started calling out: "Watch-man ahoy!" +</p> +<p> + "They're calling you, Bill," ses the skipper. "I ain't deaf," I ses, + very cold. +</p> +<p> + "Well, I wish I was," ses the skipper. "It's fair making my ear ache. + Why the blazes don't you do your dooty, and open the gate?" +</p> +<p> + "You mind your bisness and I'll mind mine," I ses. "I know wot I'm + doing. It's just some silly fools 'aving a game with me, and I'm not + going to encourage 'em." +</p> +<p> + "Game with you?" ses the skipper. "Ain't they got anything better than + that to play with? Look 'ere, if you don't open that gate, I will." +</p> +<p> + "It's nothing to do with you," I ses. "You look arter your ship and I'll + look arter my wharf. See? If you don't like the noise, go down in the + cabin and stick your 'ead in a biscuit-bag." +</p> +<p> + To my surprise he took the mate by the arm and went, and I was just + thinking wot a good thing it was to be a bit firm with people sometimes, + when they came back dressed up in their coats and bowler-hats and climbed + on to the wharf. +</p> +<p> + "Watchman!" ses the skipper, in a hoity-toity sort o' voice, "me and the + mate is going as far as Aldgate for a breath o' fresh air. Open the + gate." +</p> +<p> + I gave him a look that might ha' melted a 'art of stone, and all it done + to 'im was to make 'im laugh. +</p> +<p> + "Hurry up," he ses. "It a'most seems to me that there's somebody ringing + the bell, and you can let them in same time as you let us out. Is it the + bell, or is it my fancy, Joe?" he ses, turning to the mate. +</p> +<p> + They marched on in front of me with their noses cocked in the air, and + all the time the noise at the gate got worse and worse. So far as I + could make out, there was quite a crowd outside, and I stood there with + the key in the lock, trembling all over. Then I unlocked it very + careful, and put my hand on the skipper's arm. +</p> +<p> + "Nip out quick," I ses, in a whisper. +</p> +<p> + "I'm in no hurry," ses the skipper. "Here! Halloa, wot's up?" +</p> +<p> + It was like opening the door at a theatre, and the fust one through was + that woman, shoved behind by the potman. Arter 'im came a car-man, two + big 'ulking brewers' draymen, a little scrap of a woman with 'er bonnet + cocked over one eye, and a couple of dirty little boys. +</p> +<p> + "Wot is it?" ses the skipper, shutting the wicket behind 'em. "A + beanfeast?" +</p> +<p> + "This lady wants her 'usband," ses the pot-man, pointing at me. "He run + away from her nine years ago, and now he says he 'as never seen 'er + before. He ought to be 'ung." +</p> +<p> + "Bill," ses the skipper, shaking his silly 'ead at me. "I can 'ardly + believe it." +</p> +<p> + "It's all a pack o' silly lies," I ses, firing up. "She's made a + mistake." +</p> +<p> + "She made a mistake when she married you," ses the thin little woman. + "If I was in 'er shoes I'd take 'old of you and tear you limb from limb." +</p> +<p> + "I don't want to hurt 'im, ma'am," ses the other woman. "I on'y want him + to come 'ome to me and my five. Why, he's never seen the youngest, + little Annie. She's as like 'im as two peas." +</p> +<p> + "Pore little devil," ses the carman. +</p> +<p> + "Look here!" I ses, "you clear off. All of you. 'Ow dare you come on to + my wharf? If you aren't gone in two minutes I'll give you all in + charge." +</p> +<p> + "Who to?" ses one of the draymen, sticking his face into mine. "You go + 'ome to your wife and kids. Go on now, afore I put up my 'ands to you." +</p> +<p> + "That's the way to talk to 'im," ses the pot-man, nodding at 'em. +</p> +<p> + They all began to talk to me then and tell me wot I was to do, and wot + they would do if I didn't. I couldn't get a word in edgeways. When I + reminded the mate that when he was up in London 'e always passed himself + off as a single man, 'e wouldn't listen; and when I asked the skipper + whether 'is pore missus was blind, he on'y went on shouting at the top of + 'is voice. It on'y showed me 'ow anxious most people are that everybody + else should be good. +</p> +<p> + I thought they was never going to stop, and, if it 'adn't been for a fit + of coughing, I don't believe that the scraggy little woman could ha' + stopped. Arter one o' the draymen 'ad saved her life and spoilt 'er + temper by patting 'er on the back with a hand the size of a leg o' + mutton, the carman turned to me and told me to tell the truth, if it + choked me. +</p> +<p> + "I have told you the truth," I ses. "She ses I'm her 'usband and I say I + ain't. Ow's she going to prove it? Why should you believe her, and not + me?" +</p> +<p> + "She's got a truthful face," ses the carman. +</p> +<p> + "Look here!" ses the skipper, speaking very slow, "I've got an idea, + wot'll settle it p'raps. You get outside," he ses, turning sharp on the + two little boys. +</p> +<p> + One o' the draymen 'elped 'em to go out, and 'arf a minute arterwards a + stone came over the gate and cut the potman's lip open. Boys will be + boys. +</p> +<p> + "Now!" ses the skipper, turning to the woman, and smiling with + conceitedness. "Had your 'usband got any marks on 'im? Birth-mark, or + moles, or anything of that sort?" +</p> +<p> + "I'm sure he is my 'usband," ses the woman, dabbing her eyes. +</p> +<p> + "Yes, yes," ses the skipper, "but answer my question. If you can tell us + any marks your 'usband had, we can take Bill down into my cabin and——" +</p> +<p> + "You'll do WOT?" I ses, in a loud voice. +</p> +<p> + "You speak when you're spoke to," ses the carman. "It's got nothing to + do with you." +</p> +<p> + "No, he ain't got no birthmarks," ses the woman, speaking very slow—and + I could see she was afraid of making a mistake and losing me—"but he's + got tattoo marks. He's got a mermaid tattooed on 'im." +</p> +<p> + "Where?" ses the skipper, a'most jumping. +</p> +<p> + I 'eld my breath. Five sailormen out of ten have been tattooed with + mermaids, and I was one of 'em. When she spoke agin I thought I should + ha' dropped. +</p> +<p> + "On 'is right arm," she ses, "unless he's 'ad it rubbed off." +</p> +<p> + "You can't rub out tattoo marks," ses the skipper. +</p> +<p> + They all stood looking at me as if they was waiting for something. I + folded my arms—tight—and stared back at 'em. +</p> +<p> + "If you ain't this lady's 'usband," ses the skipper, turning to me, "you + can take off your coat and prove it." +</p> +<p> + "And if you don't we'll take it off for you," ses the carman, coming a + bit closer. +</p> +<p> + Arter that things 'appened so quick, I hardly knew whether I was standing + on my 'cad or my heels. Both, I think. They was all on top o' me at + once, and the next thing I can remember is sitting on the ground in my + shirt-sleeves listening to the potman, who was making a fearful fuss + because somebody 'ad bit his ear 'arf off. My coat was ripped up the + back, and one of the draymen was holding up my arm and showing them all + the mermaid, while the other struck matches so as they could see better. +</p> +<p> + "That's your 'usband right enough," he ses to the woman. "Take 'im." +</p> +<p> + "P'raps she'll carry 'im 'ome," I ses, very fierce and sarcastic. +</p> +<p> + "And we don't want none of your lip," ses the carman, who was in a bad + temper because he 'ad got a fearful kick on the shin from somewhere. +</p> +<p> + I got up very slow and began to put my coat on again, and twice I 'ad to + tell that silly woman that when I wanted her 'elp I'd let 'er know. Then + I 'eard slow, heavy footsteps in the road outside, and, afore any of 'em + could stop me, I was calling for the police. +</p> +<p> + I don't like policemen as a rule; they're too inquisitive, but when the + wicket was pushed open and I saw a face with a helmet on it peeping in, I + felt quite a liking for 'em. +</p> +<p> + "Wot's up?" ses the policeman, staring 'ard at my little party. +</p> +<p> + They all started telling 'im at once, and I should think if the potman + showed him 'is ear once he showed it to 'im twenty times. He lost his + temper and pushed it away at last, and the potman gave a 'owl that set my + teeth on edge. I waited till they was all finished, and the policeman + trying to get 'is hearing back, and then I spoke up in a quiet way and + told 'im to clear them all off of my wharf. +</p> +<p> + "They're trespassing," I ses, "all except the skipper and mate here. + They belong to a little wash-tub that's laying alongside, and they're + both as 'armless as they look." +</p> +<p> + It's wonderful wot a uniform will do. The policeman just jerked his 'ead + and said "out-side," and the men went out like a flock of sheep. The + on'y man that said a word was the carman, who was in such a hurry that 'e + knocked his bad shin against my foot as 'e went by. The thin little + woman was passed out by the policeman in the middle of a speech she was + making, and he was just going for the other, when the skipper stopped + 'im. +</p> +<p> + "This lady is coming on my ship," he ses, puffing out 'is chest. +</p> +<p> + I looked at 'im, and then I turned to the policeman. "So long as she + goes off my wharf, I don't mind where she goes," I ses. "The skipper's + goings-on 'ave got nothing to do with me." +</p> +<p> + "Then she can foller him 'ome in the morning," ses the skipper. "Good + night, watch-man." +</p> +<p> + Him and the mate 'elped the silly old thing to the ship, and, arter I 'ad + been round to the Bear's Head and fetched a pint for the police-man, I + locked up and sat down to think things out; and the more I thought the + worse they seemed. I've 'eard people say that if you have a clear + conscience nothing can hurt you. They didn't know my missus. +</p> +<p> + I got up at last and walked on to the jetty, and the woman, wot was + sitting on the deck of the John Henry, kept calling out: "Bill!" like a + sick baa-lamb crying for its ma. I went back, and 'ad four pints at the + Bear's Head, but it didn't seem to do me any good, and at last I went and + sat down in the office to wait for morning. +</p> +<p> + It came at last, a lovely morning with a beautiful sunrise; and that + woman sitting up wide awake, waiting to foller me 'ome. When I opened + the gate at six o'clock she was there with the mate and the skipper, + waiting, and when I left at five minutes past she was trotting along + beside me. +</p> +<p> + Twice I stopped and spoke to 'er, but it was no good. Other people + stopped too, and I 'ad to move on agin; and every step was bringing me + nearer to my house and the missus. +</p> +<p> + I turned into our street, arter passing it three times, and the first + thing I saw was my missus standing on the doorstep 'aving a few words + with the lady next door. Then she 'appened to look up and see us, just + as that silly woman was trying to walk arm-in-arm. +</p> +<p> + Twice I knocked her 'and away, and then, right afore my wife and the + party next door, she put her arm round my waist. By the time I got to + the 'ouse my legs was trembling so I could hardly stand, and when I got + into the passage I 'ad to lean up against the wall for a bit. +</p> +<a name="image-4"><!--IMG--></a> +<center> +<img src="images/003.jpg" height="744" width="493" +alt="Right Afore My Wife and the Party Next Door She Put Her +Arm Round My Waist. +"> +</center> +<!--IMAGE END--> +<p> + "Keep 'er out," I ses. +</p> +<p> + "Wot do you want?" ses my missus, trembling with passion. "Wot do you + think you're doing?" +</p> +<p> + "I want my 'usband, Bill," ses the woman. +</p> +<p> + My missus put her 'and to her throat and came in without a word, and the + woman follered 'er. If I hadn't kept my presence o' mind and shut the + door two or three more would 'ave come in too. +</p> +<p> + I went into the kitchen about ten minutes arterwards to see 'ow they was + getting on. Besides which they was both calling for me. +</p> +<p> + "Now then!" ses my missus, who was leaning up against the dresser with + 'er arms folded, "wot 'ave you got to say for yourself walking in as bold + as brass with this hussy?" +</p> +<p> + "Bill!" ses the woman, "did you hear wot she called me?" +</p> +<p> + She spoke to me like that afore my wife, and in two minutes they was at + it, hammer and tongs. +</p> +<p> + Fust of all they spoke about each other, and then my missus started + speaking about me. She's got a better memory than most people, because + she can remember things that never 'appened, and every time I coughed she + turned on me like a tiger. +</p> +<p> + "And as for you," she ses, turning to the woman, "if you did marry 'im + you should ha' made sure that he 'adn't got a wife already." +</p> +<p> + "He married me fust," ses the woman. +</p> +<p> + "When?" ses my wife. "Wot was the date?" +</p> +<p> + "Wot was the date you married 'im?" ses the other one. +</p> +<p> + They stood looking at each other like a couple o' game-cocks, and I could + see as plain as a pike-staff 'ow frightened both of 'em was o' losing me. +</p> +<p> + "Look here!" I ses at last, to my missus, "talk sense. 'Ow could I be + married to 'er? When I was at sea I was at sea, and when I was ashore I + was with you." +</p> +<p> + "Did you use to go down to the ship to see 'im off?" ses the woman. +</p> +<p> + "No," ses my wife. "I'd something better to do." +</p> +<p> + "Neither did I," ses the woman. "P'raps that's where we both made a + mistake." +</p> +<p> + "You get out of my 'ouse!" ses my missus, very sudden. "Go on, afore I + put you out." +</p> +<p> + "Not without my Bill," ses the woman. "If you lay a finger on me I'll + scream the house down." +</p> +<p> + "You brought her 'ere," ses my wife, turning to me, "now you can take 'er + away?" +</p> +<p> + "I didn't bring 'er," I ses. "She follered me." +</p> +<p> + "Well, she can foller you agin," she ses. "Go on!" she ses, trembling + all over. "Git out afore I start on you." +</p> +<p> + I was in such a temper that I daren't trust myself to stop. I just gave + 'er one look, and then I drew myself up and went out. 'Alf the fools in + our street was standing in front of the 'ouse, 'umming like bees, but I + took no notice. I held my 'ead up and walked through them with that + woman trailing arter me. +</p> +<p> + I was in such a state of mind that I went on like a man in a dream. If + it had ha' been a dream I should ha' pushed 'er under an omnibus, but you + can't do things like that in real life. +</p> +<p> + "Penny for your thoughts, Bill," she ses. I didn't answer her. +</p> +<p> + "Why don't you speak to me?" she ses. +</p> +<p> + "You don't know wot you're asking for," I ses. +</p> +<p> + I was hungry and sleepy, and 'ow I was going to get through the day I + couldn't think. I went into a pub and 'ad a couple o' pints o' stout and + a crust o' bread and cheese for brekfuss. I don't know wot she 'ad, but + when the barman tried to take for it out o' my money, I surprised 'im. +</p> +<p> + We walked about till I was ready to drop. Then we got to Victoria Park, + and I 'ad no sooner got on to the grass than I laid down and went + straight off to sleep. It was two o'clock when I woke, and, arter a + couple o' pork-pies and a pint or two, I sat on a seat in the Park + smoking, while she kep' dabbing 'er eyes agin and asking me to come 'ome. +</p> +<p> + At five o'clock I got up to go back to the wharf, and, taking no notice + of 'er, I walked into the street and jumped on a 'bus that was passing. + She jumped too, and, arter the conductor had 'elped 'er up off of 'er + knees and taken her arms away from his waist, I'm blest if he didn't turn + on me and ask me why I 'adn't left her at 'ome. +</p> +<p> + We got to the wharf just afore six. The John Henry 'ad gorn, but the + skipper 'ad done all the 'arm he could afore he sailed, and, if I 'adn't + kept my temper, I should ha' murdered arf a dozen of 'em. +</p> +<p> + The woman wanted to come on to the wharf, but I 'ad a word or two with + one o' the fore-men, who owed me arf-a-dollar, and he made that all + right. +</p> +<p> + "We all 'ave our faults, Bill," he ses as 'e went out, "and I suppose she + was better looking once upon a time?" +</p> +<p> + I didn't answer 'im. I shut the wicket arter 'im, quick, and turned the + key, and then I went on with my work. For a long time everything was as + quiet as the grave, and then there came just one little pull at the bell. + Five minutes arterwards there was another. +</p> +<p> + I thought it was that woman, but I 'ad to make sure. When it came the + third time I crept up to the gate. +</p> +<p> + "Halloa!" I ses. "Who is it?" +</p> +<p> + "Me, darling," ses a voice I reckernized as the potman's. "Your missus + wants to come in and sit down." +</p> +<p> + I could 'ear several people talking, and it seemed to me there was quite + a crowd out there, and by and by that bell was going like mad. Then + people started kicking the gate, and shouting, but I took no notice + until, presently, it left off all of a sudden, and I 'eard a loud voice + asking what it was all about. I suppose there was about fifty of 'em all + telling it at once, and then there was the sound of a fist on the gate. +</p> +<p> + "Who is it?" I ses. +</p> +<p> + "Police," ses the voice. +</p> +<p> + I opened the wicket then and looked out. A couple o' policemen was + standing by the gate and arf the riff-raff of Wapping behind 'em. +</p> +<p> + "Wot's all this about?" ses one o' the policemen. +</p> +<p> + I shook my 'ead. "Ask me another," I ses. "Your missus is causing a + disturbance," he ses. +</p> +<p> + "She's not my missus," I ses; "she's a complete stranger to me." +</p> +<p> + "And causing a crowd to collect and refusing to go away," ses the other + policeman. +</p> +<p> + "That's your business," I ses. "It's nothing to do with me." +</p> +<p> + They talked to each other for a moment, and then they spoke to the woman. + I didn't 'ear wot she said, but I saw her shake her 'ead, and a'most + direckly arterwards she was marching away between the two policemen with + the crowd follering and advising 'er where to kick 'em. +</p> +<p> + I was a bit worried at fust—not about her—and then I began to think + that p'raps it was the best thing that could have 'appened. +</p> +<p> + I went 'ome in the morning with a load lifted off my mind; but I 'adn't + been in the 'ouse two seconds afore my missus started to put it on agin. + Fust of all she asked me 'ow I dared to come into the 'ouse, and then she + wanted to know wot I meant by leaving her at 'ome and going out for the + day with another woman. +</p> +<p> + "You told me to," I ses. +</p> +<p> + "Oh, yes," she ses, trembling with temper. "You always do wot I tell + you, don't you? Al-ways 'ave, especially when it's anything you like." +</p> +<p> + She fetched a bucket o' water and scrubbed the kitchen while I was having + my brekfuss, but I kept my eye on 'er, and, the moment she 'ad finished, + I did the perlite and emptied the bucket for 'er, to prevent mistakes. +</p> +<p> + I read about the case in the Sunday paper, and I'm thankful to say my + name wasn't in it. All the magistrate done was to make 'er promise that + she wouldn't do it again, and then he let 'er go. I should ha' felt more + comfortable if he 'ad given 'er five years, but, as it turned out, it + didn't matter. Her 'usband happened to read it, and, whether 'e was + tired of living alone, or whether he was excited by 'caring that she 'ad + got a little general shop, 'e went back to her. +</p> +<p> + The fust I knew about it was they came round to the wharf to see me. He + 'ad been a fine-looking chap in 'is day, and even then 'e was enough like + me for me to see 'ow she 'ad made the mistake; and all the time she was + telling me 'ow it 'appened, he was looking me up and down and sniffing. +</p> +<p> + "'Ave you got a cold?" I ses, at last. +</p> +<p> + "Wot's that got to do with you?" he ses. "Wot do you mean by walking out + with my wife? That's what I've come to talk about." +</p> +<p> + For a moment I thought that his bad luck 'ad turned 'is brain. "You've + got it wrong," I ses, as soon as I could speak. "She walked out with + me." +</p> +<p> + "Cos she thought you was her 'usband," he ses, "but you didn't think you + was me, did you?" +</p> +<p> + "'Course I didn't," I ses. +</p> +<p> + "Then 'ow dare you walk out with 'er?" he ses. +</p> +<p> + "Look 'ere!" I ses. "You get off 'ome as quick as you like. I've 'ad + about enough of your family. Go on, hook it." +</p> +<p> + Afore I could put my 'ands up he 'it me hard in the mouth, and the next + moment we was at it as 'ard as we could go. Nearly every time I hit 'im + he wasn't there, and every time 'e hit me I wished I hadn't ha' been. + When I said I had 'ad enough, 'e contradicted me and kept on, but he got + tired of it at last, and, arter telling me wot he would do if I ever + walked 'is wife out agin, they went off like a couple o' love-birds. +</p> +<p> + By the time I got 'ome next morning my eyes was so swelled up I could + 'ardly see, and my nose wouldn't let me touch it. I was so done up I + could 'ardly speak, but I managed to tell my missus about it arter I had + 'ad a cup o' tea. Judging by her face anybody might ha' thought I was + telling 'er something funny, and, when I 'ad finished, she looks up at + the ceiling and ses: +</p> +<p> + "I 'ope it'll be a lesson to you," she ses. +</p> +<a name="2H_4_7"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<h2> + FAMILY CARES +</h2> +<p> + Mr. Jernshaw, who was taking the opportunity of a lull in business to + weigh out pound packets of sugar, knocked his hands together and stood + waiting for the order of the tall bronzed man who had just entered the + shop—a well-built man of about forty—who was regarding him with blue + eyes set in quizzical wrinkles. +</p> +<p> + "What, Harry!" exclaimed Mr. Jernshaw, in response to the wrinkles. + "Harry Barrett!" +</p> +<p> + "That's me," said the other, extending his hand. "The rolling stone come + home covered with moss." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Jernshaw, somewhat excited, shook hands, and led the way into the + little parlour behind the shop. +</p> +<p> + "Fifteen years," said Mr. Barrett, sinking into a chair, "and the old + place hasn't altered a bit." +</p> +<p> + "Smithson told me he had let that house in Webb Street to a Barrett," + said the grocer, regarding him, "but I never thought of you. I suppose + you've done well, then?" +</p> +<p> + Mr. Barrett nodded. "Can't grumble," he said modestly. "I've got enough + to live on. Melbourne's all right, but I thought I'd come home for the + evening of my life." +</p> +<p> + "Evening!" repeated his friend. "Forty-three," said Mr. Barrett, + gravely. "I'm getting on." +</p> +<p> + "You haven't changed much," said the grocer, passing his hand through his + spare grey whiskers. "Wait till you have a wife and seven youngsters. + Why, boots alone——" +</p> +<p> + Mr. Barrett uttered a groan intended for sympathy. "Perhaps you could + help me with the furnishing," he said, slowly. "I've never had a place + of my own before, and I don't know much about it." +</p> +<p> + "Anything I can do," said his friend. "Better not get much yet; you + might marry, and my taste mightn't be hers." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Barrett laughed. "I'm not marrying," he said, with conviction. +</p> +<p> + "Seen anything of Miss Prentice yet?" inquired Mr. Jernshaw. +</p> +<p> + "No," said the other, with a slight flush. "Why?" +</p> +<p> + "She's still single," said the grocer. +</p> +<p> + "What of it?" demanded Mr. Barrett, with warmth. "What of it?" +</p> +<p> + "Nothing," said Mr. Jernshaw, slowly. "Nothing; only I——" +</p> +<p> + "Well?" said the other, as he paused. +</p> +<p> + "I—there was an idea that you went to Australia to—to better your + condition," murmured the grocer. "That—that you were not in a position + to marry—that——" +</p> +<p> + "Boy and girl nonsense," said Mr. Barrett, sharply. "Why, it's fifteen + years ago. I don't suppose I should know her if I saw her. Is her + mother alive?" +</p> +<p> + "Rather!" said Mr. Jernshaw, with emphasis. "Louisa is something like + what her mother was when you went away." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Barrett shivered. +</p> +<p> + "But you'll see for yourself," continued the other. "You'll have to go + and see them. They'll wonder you haven't been before." +</p> +<p> + "Let 'em wonder," said the embarrassed Mr. Barrett. "I shall go and see + all my old friends in their turn; casual-like. You might let 'em hear + that I've been to see you before seeing them, and then, if they're + thinking any nonsense, it'll be a hint. I'm stopping in town while the + house is being decorated; next time I come down I'll call and see + somebody else." +</p> +<p> + "That'll be another hint," assented Mr. Jernshaw. "Not that hints are + much good to Mrs. Prentice." +</p> +<p> + "We'll see," said Mr. Barrett. +</p> +<p> + In accordance with his plan his return to his native town was heralded by + a few short visits at respectable intervals. A sort of human butterfly, + he streaked rapidly across one or two streets, alighted for half an hour + to resume an old friendship, and then disappeared again. Having given at + least half-a-dozen hints of this kind, he made a final return to Ramsbury + and entered into occupation of his new house. +</p> +<p> + "It does you credit, Jernshaw," he said, gratefully. "I should have made + a rare mess of it without your help." +</p> +<p> + "It looks very nice," admitted his friend. "Too nice." +</p> +<p> + "That's all nonsense," said the owner, irritably. +</p> +<p> + "All right," said Mr. Jernshaw. "I don't know the sex, then, that's all. + If you think that you're going to keep a nice house like this all to + yourself, you're mistaken. It's a home; and where there's a home a woman + comes in, somehow." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Barrett grunted his disbelief. +</p> +<p> + "I give you four days," said Mr. Jernshaw. +</p> +<p> + As a matter of fact, Mrs. Prentice and her daughter came on the fifth. + Mr. Barrett, who was in an easy-chair, wooing slumber with a handkerchief + over his head, heard their voices at the front door and the cordial + invitation of his housekeeper. They entered the room as he sat hastily + smoothing his rumpled hair. +</p> +<p> + "Good afternoon," he said, shaking hands. +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Prentice returned the greeting in a level voice, and, accepting a + chair, gazed around the room. +</p> +<p> + "Nice weather," said Mr. Barrett. +</p> +<p> + "Very," said Mrs. Prentice. +</p> +<p> + "It's—it's quite a pleasure to see you again," said Mr. Barrett. +</p> +<p> + "We thought we should have seen you before," said Mrs. Prentice, "but + I told Louisa that no doubt you were busy, and wanted to surprise her. + I like the carpet; don't you, Louisa?" +</p> +<p> + Miss Prentice said she did. +</p> +<p> + "The room is nice and airy," said Mrs. Prentice, "but it's a pity you + didn't come to me before deciding. I could have told you of a better + house for the same money." +</p> +<p> + "I'm very well satisfied with this," said Mr. Barrett. "It's all I + want." +</p> +<p> + "It's well enough," conceded Mrs. Prentice, amiably. "And how have you + been all these years?" +</p> +<p> + Mr. Barrett, with some haste, replied that his health and spirits had + been excellent. +</p> +<p> + "You look well," said Mrs. Prentice. "Neither of you seem to have + changed much," she added, looking from him to her daughter. "And I think + you did quite well not to write. I think it was much the best." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Barrett sought for a question: a natural, artless question, that + would neutralize the hideous suggestion conveyed by this remark, but it + eluded him. He sat and gazed in growing fear at Mrs. Prentice. +</p> +<p> + "I—I couldn't write," he said at last, in desperation; "my wife——" +</p> +<p> + "Your what?" exclaimed Mrs. Prentice, loudly. +</p> +<p> + "Wife," said Mr. Barrett, suddenly calm now that he had taken the plunge. + "She wouldn't have liked it." +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Prentice tried to control her voice. "I never heard you were + married!" she gasped. "Why isn't she here?" +</p> +<p> + "We couldn't agree," said the veracious Mr. Barrett. "She was very + difficult; so I left the children with her and——" +</p> +<p> + "Chil——" said Mrs. Prentice, and paused, unable to complete the word. +</p> +<p> + "Five," said Mr. Barrett, in tones of resignation. "It was rather a + wrench, parting with them, especially the baby. He got his first tooth + the day I left." +</p> +<p> + The information fell on deaf ears. Mrs. Prentice, for once in her life + thoroughly at a loss, sat trying to collect her scattered faculties. She + had come out prepared for a hard job, but not an impossible one. All + things considered, she took her defeat with admirable composure. +</p> +<p> + "I have no doubt it is much the best thing for the children to remain + with their mother," she said, rising. +</p> +<p> + "Much the best," agreed Mr. Barrett. "Whatever she is like," continued + the old lady. "Are you ready, Louisa?" +</p> +<p> + Mr. Barrett followed them to the door, and then, returning to the room, + watched, with glad eyes, their progress up the street. +</p> +<p> + "Wonder whether she'll keep it to herself?" he muttered. +</p> +<p> + His doubts were set at rest next day. All Ramsbury knew by then of his + matrimonial complications, and seemed anxious to talk about them; + complications which tended to increase until Mr. Barrett wrote out a list + of his children's names and ages and learnt it off by heart. +</p> +<p> + Relieved of the attentions of the Prentice family, he walked the streets + a free man; and it was counted to him for righteousness that he never + said a hard word about his wife. She had her faults, he said, but they + were many thousand miles away, and he preferred to forget them. And he + added, with some truth, that he owed her a good deal. +</p> +<p> + For a few months he had no reason to alter his opinion. Thanks to his + presence of mind, the Prentice family had no terrors for him. Heart- + whole and fancy free, he led the easy life of a man of leisure, a + condition of things suddenly upset by the arrival of Miss Grace Lindsay + to take up a post at the elementary school. Mr. Barrett succumbed almost + at once, and, after a few encounters in the street and meetings at mutual + friends', went to unbosom him-self to Mr. Jernshaw. +</p> +<p> + "What has she got to do with you?" demanded that gentleman. +</p> +<p> + "I—I'm rather struck with her," said Mr. Barrett. +</p> +<p> + "Struck with her?" repeated his friend, sharply. "I'm surprised at you. + You've no business to think of such things." +</p> +<p> + "Why not?" demanded Mr. Barrett, in tones that were sharper still. +</p> +<p> + "Why not?" repeated the other. "Have you forgotten your wife and + children?" +</p> +<p> + Mr. Barrett, who, to do him justice, had forgotten, fell back in his + chair and sat gazing at him, open-mouthed. +</p> +<p> + "You're in a false position—in a way," said Mr. Jernshaw, sternly. +</p> +<p> + "False is no name for it," said Mr. Barrett, huskily. "What am I to do?" +</p> +<p> + "Do?" repeated the other, staring at him. "Nothing! Unless, perhaps, + you send for your wife and children. I suppose, in any case, you would + have to have the little ones if anything happened to her?" +</p> +<p> + Mr. Barrett grinned ruefully. +</p> +<p> + "Think it over," said Mr. Jernshaw. "I will," said the other, heartily. +</p> +<p> + He walked home deep in thought. He was a kindly man, and he spent some + time thinking out the easiest death for Mrs. Barrett. He decided at last + upon heart-disease, and a fort-night later all Ramsbury knew of the + letter from Australia conveying the mournful intelligence. It was + generally agreed that the mourning and the general behaviour of the + widower left nothing to be desired. +</p> +<p> + "She's at peace at last," he said, solemnly, to Jernshaw. +</p> +<p> + "I believe you killed her," said his friend. Mr. Barrett started + violently. +</p> +<p> + "I mean your leaving broke her heart," explained the other. +</p> +<p> + Mr. Barrett breathed easily again. +</p> +<p> + "It's your duty to look after the children," said Jernshaw, firmly. "And + I'm not the only one that thinks so." +</p> +<p> + "They are with their grandfather and grand-mother," said Mr. Barrett. +</p> +<p> + Mr. Jernshaw sniffed. +</p> +<p> + "And four uncles and five aunts," added Mr. Barrett, triumphantly. +</p> +<p> + "Think how they would brighten up your house," said Mr. Jernshaw. +</p> +<p> + His friend shook his head. "It wouldn't be fair to their grandmother," + he said, decidedly. "Besides, Australia wants population." +</p> +<p> + He found to his annoyance that Mr. Jernshaw's statement that he was not + alone in his views was correct. Public opinion seemed to expect the + arrival of the children, and one citizen even went so far as to recommend + a girl he knew, as nurse. +</p> +<p> + Ramsbury understood at last that his decision was final, and, observing + his attentions to the new schoolmistress, flattered itself that it had + discovered the reason. It is possible that Miss Lindsay shared their + views, but if so she made no sign, and on the many occasions on which she + met Mr. Barrett on her way to and from school greeted him with frank + cordiality. Even when he referred to his loneliness, which he did + frequently, she made no comment. +</p> +<p> + He went into half-mourning at the end of two months, and a month later + bore no outward signs of his loss. Added to that his step was springy + and his manner youthful. Miss Lindsay was twenty-eight, and he persuaded + himself that, sexes considered, there was no disparity worth mentioning. +</p> +<p> + He was only restrained from proposing by a question of etiquette. Even a + shilling book on the science failed to state the interval that should + elapse between the death of one wife and the negotiations for another. + It preferred instead to give minute instructions with regard to the + eating of asparagus. In this dilemma he consulted Jernshaw. +</p> +<p> + "Don't know, I'm sure," said that gentle-man; "besides, it doesn't + matter." +</p> +<p> + "Doesn't matter?" repeated Mr. Barrett. "Why not?" +</p> +<p> + "Because I think Tillett is paying her attentions," was the reply. "He's + ten years younger than you are, and a bachelor. A girl would naturally + prefer him to a middle-aged widower with five children." +</p> +<p> + "In Australia," the other reminded him. +</p> +<p> + "Man for man, bachelor for bachelor," said Mr. Jernshaw, regarding him, + "she might prefer you; as things are—" +</p> +<p> + "I shall ask her," said Mr. Barrett, doggedly. "I was going to wait a + bit longer, but if there's any chance of her wrecking her prospects for + life by marrying that tailor's dummy it's my duty to risk it—for her + sake. I've seen him talking to her twice myself, but I never thought + he'd dream of such a thing." +</p> +<p> + Apprehension and indignation kept him awake half the night, but when he + arose next morning it was with the firm resolve to put his fortune to the + test that day. At four o'clock he changed his neck-tie for the third + time, and at ten past sallied out in the direction of the school. He met + Miss Lindsay just coming out, and, after a well-deserved compliment to + the weather, turned and walked with her. +</p> +<p> + "I was hoping to meet you," he said, slowly. +</p> +<p> + "Yes?" said the girl. +</p> +<p> + "I—I have been feeling rather lonely to-day," he continued. +</p> +<p> + "You often do," said Miss Lindsay, guardedly. +</p> +<p> + "It gets worse and worse," said Mr. Barrett, sadly. +</p> +<p> + "I think I know what is the matter with you," said the girl, in a soft + voice; "you have got nothing to do all day, and you live alone, except + for your housekeeper." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Barrett assented with some eagerness, and stole a hopeful glance at + her. +</p> +<p> + "You—you miss something," continued Miss. Lindsay, in a faltering + voice. +</p> +<p> + "I do," said Mr. Barrett, with ardour. +</p> +<p> + "You miss"—the girl made an effort—"you miss the footsteps and voices + of your little children." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Barrett stopped suddenly in the street, and then, with a jerk, went + blindly on. +</p> +<p> + "I've never spoken of it before because it's your business, not mine," + continued the girl. "I wouldn't have spoken now, but when you referred to + your loneliness I thought perhaps you didn't realize the cause of it." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Barrett walked on in silent misery. +</p> +<p> + "Poor little motherless things!" said Miss Lindsay, softly. "Motherless + and—fatherless." +</p> +<p> + "Better for them," said Mr. Barrett, finding his voice at last. +</p> +<p> + "It almost looks like it," said Miss Lindsay, with a sigh. +</p> +<p> + Mr. Barrett tried to think clearly, but the circumstances were hardly + favourable. "Suppose," he said, speaking very slowly, "suppose I wanted + to get married?" +</p> +<p> + Miss Lindsay started. "What, again?" she said, with an air of surprise. +</p> +<p> + "How could I ask a girl to come and take over five children?" +</p> +<p> + "No woman that was worth having would let little children be sacrificed + for her sake," said Miss Lindsay, decidedly. +</p> +<p> + "Do you think anybody would marry me with five children?" demanded Mr. + Barrett. +</p> +<p> + "She might," said the girl, edging away from him a little. "It depends + on the woman." +</p> +<p> + "Would—you, for instance?" said Mr. Barrett, desperately. +</p> +<p> + Miss Lindsay shrank still farther away. "I don't know; it would depend + upon circumstances," she murmured. +</p> +<p> + "I will write and send for them," said Mr. Barrett, significantly. +</p> +<p> + Miss Lindsay made no reply. They had arrived at her gate by this time, + and, with a hurried handshake, she disappeared indoors. +</p> +<p> + Mr. Barrett, somewhat troubled in mind, went home to tea. +</p> +<p> + He resolved, after a little natural hesitation, to drown the children, + and reproached himself bitterly for not having disposed of them at the + same time as their mother. Now he would have to go through another + period of mourning and the consequent delay in pressing his suit. + Moreover, he would have to allow a decent interval between his + conversation with Miss Lindsay and their untimely end. +</p> +<p> + The news of the catastrophe arrived two or three days before the return + of the girl from her summer holidays. She learnt it in the first half- + hour from her landlady, and sat in a dazed condition listening to a + description of the grief-stricken father and the sympathy extended to him + by his fellow-citizens. It appeared that nothing had passed his lips for + two days. +</p> +<a name="image-5"><!--IMG--></a> +<center> +<img src="images/004.jpg" height="667" width="484" +alt="She Learnt the News in The First Half-hour from Her +Landlady. +"> +</center> +<!--IMAGE END--> +<p> + "Shocking!" said Miss Lindsay, briefly. "Shocking!" +</p> +<p> + An instinctive feeling that the right and proper thing to do was to nurse + his grief in solitude kept Mr. Barrett out of her way for nearly a week. + When she did meet him she received a limp handshake and a greeting in a + voice from which all hope seemed to have departed. +</p> +<p> + "I am very sorry," she said, with a sort of measured gentleness. +</p> +<p> + Mr. Barrett, in his hushed voice, thanked her. +</p> +<p> + "I am all alone now," he said, pathetically. "There is nobody now to + care whether I live or die." +</p> +<p> + Miss Lindsay did not contradict him. +</p> +<p> + "How did it happen?" she inquired, after they had gone some distance in + silence. +</p> +<p> + "They were out in a sailing-boat," said Mr. Barrett; "the boat capsized + in a puff of wind, and they were all drowned." +</p> +<p> + "Who was in charge of them?" inquired the girl, after a decent interval. +</p> +<p> + "Boatman," replied the other. +</p> +<p> + "How did you hear?" +</p> +<p> + "I had a letter from one of my sisters-in-law, Charlotte," said Mr. + Barrett. "A most affecting letter. Poor Charlotte was like a second + mother to them. She'll never be the same woman again. Never!" +</p> +<p> + "I should like to see the letter," said Miss Lindsay, musingly. +</p> +<p> + Mr. Barrett suppressed a start. "I should like to show it to you," he + said, "but I'm afraid I have destroyed it. It made me shudder every time + I looked at it." +</p> +<p> + "It's a pity," said the girl, dryly. "I should have liked to see it. + I've got my own idea about the matter. Are you sure she was very fond of + them?" +</p> +<p> + "She lived only for them," said Mr. Barrett, in a rapt voice. +</p> +<p> + "Exactly. I don't believe they are drowned at all," said Miss Lindsay, + suddenly. "I believe you have had all this terrible anguish for nothing. + It's too cruel." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Barrett stared at her in anxious amazement. +</p> +<p> + "I see it all now," continued the girl. "Their Aunt Charlotte was + devoted to them. She always had the fear that some day you would return + and claim them, and to prevent that she invented the story of their + death." +</p> +<p> + "Charlotte is the most truthful woman that ever breathed," said the + distressed Mr. Barrett. +</p> +<p> + Miss Lindsay shook her head. "You are like all other honourable, + truthful people," she said, looking at him gravely. "You can't imagine + anybody else telling a falsehood. I don't believe you could tell one if + you tried." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Barrett gazed about him with the despairing look of a drowning + mariner. +</p> +<p> + "I'm certain I'm right," continued the girl. "I can see Charlotte + exulting in her wickedness. Why!" +</p> +<p> + "What's the matter?" inquired Mr. Barrett, greatly worried. +</p> +<p> + "I've just thought of it," said Miss Lindsay. "She's told you that your + children are drowned, and she has probably told them you are dead. A + woman like that would stick at nothing to gain her ends." +</p> +<p> + "You don't know Charlotte," said Mr. Barrett, feebly. +</p> +<p> + "I think I do," was the reply. "However, we'll make sure. I suppose + you've got friends in Melbourne?" +</p> +<p> + "A few," said Mr. Barrett, guardedly. +</p> +<p> + "Come down to the post-office and cable to one of them." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Barrett hesitated. "I'll write," he said, slowly. "It's an awkward + thing to cable; and there's no hurry. I'll write to Jack Adams, + I think." +</p> +<p> + "It's no good writing," said Miss Lindsay, firmly. "You ought to know + that." +</p> +<p> + "Why not?" demanded the other. +</p> +<p> + "Because, you foolish man," said the girl, calmly, "before your letter + got there, there would be one from Melbourne saying that he had been + choked by a fish-bone, or died of measles, or something of that sort." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Barrett, hardly able to believe his ears, stopped short and looked at + her. The girl's eyes were moist with mirth and her lips trembling. He + put out his hand and took her wrist in a strong grip. +</p> +<p> + "That's all right," he said, with a great gasp of relief. "<i>Phew!</i> At + one time I thought I had lost you." +</p> +<p> + "By heart-disease, or drowning?" inquired Miss Lindsay, softly. +</p> +<a name="2H_4_8"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<h2> + THE WINTER OFFENSIVE +</h2> +<p> + <i>N.B.—Having regard to the eccentricities of the Law of Libel it must be + distinctly understood that the following does not refer to the + distinguished officer, Lieut. Troup Horne, of the Inns of Court. + Anybody trying to cause mischief between a civilian of eight stone and a + soldier of seventeen by a statement to the contrary will hear from my + solicitors.</i> +</p> +<p> + Aug. 29, 1916.—We returned from the sea to find our house still our + own, and the military still in undisputed possession of the remains of + the grass in the fields of Berkhamsted Place. As in previous years, it + was impossible to go in search of wild-flowers without stumbling over + sleeping members of the Inns of Court; but war is war, and we grumble as + little as possible. +</p> +<p> + Sept. 28.—Unpleasant rumours to the effect that several members of the + Inns of Court had attributed cases of curvature of the spine to sleeping + on ground that had been insufficiently rolled. Also that they had been + heard to smack their lips and speak darkly of featherbeds. Respected + neighbour of gloomy disposition said that if Pharaoh were still alive he + could suggest an eleventh plague to him beside which frogs and flies were + an afternoon's diversion. +</p> +<p> + Oct. 3.—Householders of Berkhamsted busy mending bedsteads broken by + last year's billets, and buying patent taps for their beer-barrels. +</p> +<p> + Oct. 15.—Informed that a representative of the Army wished to see me. + Instead of my old friend Q.M.S. Beddem, who generally returns to life at + this time of year, found that it was an officer of magnificent presence + and two pips. A fine figure of a man, with a great resemblance to the + late lamented Bismarck, minus the moustache and the three hairs on the + top of the head. Asked him to be seated. He selected a chair that was + all arms and legs and no hips to speak of and crushed himself into it. + After which he unfastened his belt and "swelled wisibly afore my werry + eyes." Said that his name was True Born and asked if it made any + difference to me whether I had one officer or half-a-dozen men billeted + on me. Said that he was the officer, and that as the rank-and-file were + not allowed to pollute the same atmosphere, thought I should score. + After a mental review of all I could remember of the Weights and Measures + Table, accepted him. He bade a lingering farewell to the chair, and + departed. +</p> +<p> + Oct. 16.—Saw Q.M.S. Beddem on the other side of the road and gave him + an absolutely new thrill by crossing to meet him. Asked diffidently—as + diffidently as he could, that is—how many men my house would hold. + Replied eight—or ten at a pinch. He gave me a surprised and beaming + smile and whipped out a huge note-book. Informed him with as much regret + as I could put into a voice not always under perfect control, that I had + already got an officer. Q.M.S., favouring me with a look very + appropriate to the Devil's Own, turned on his heel and set off in pursuit + of a lady-billetee, pulling up short on the threshold of the baby-linen + shop in which she took refuge. Left him on guard with a Casablanca-like + look on his face. +</p> +<p> + Nov. 1.—Lieut. True Born took up his quarters with us. Gave him my + dressing-room for bedchamber. Was awakened several times in the night by + what I took to be Zeppelins, flying low. +</p> +<p> + Nov. 2.—Lieut. True Born offered to bet me five pounds to twenty that + the war would be over by 1922. +</p> +<p> + Nov. 3.—Offered to teach me auction-bridge. +</p> +<p> + Nov. 4.—Asked me whether I could play "shove ha'penny." +</p> +<p> + Nov. 10.—Lieut. True Born gave one of the regimental horses a riding- + lesson. Came home grumpy and went to bed early. +</p> +<p> + Nov. 13.—Another riding-lesson. Over-heard him asking one of the + maids whether there was such a thing as a water-bed in the house. +</p> +<p> + Nov. 17.—Complained bitterly of horse-copers. Said that his poor mount + was discovered to be suffering from saddle-soreness, broken wind, + splints, weak hocks, and two bones of the neck out of place. +</p> +<p> + Dec. 9.—7 p.m.—One of last year's billets, Private Merited, on leave + from a gunnery course, called to see me and to find out whether his old + bed had improved since last year. Left his motor-bike in the garage, and + the smell in front of the dining-room window. +</p> +<p> + 8 to 12 p.m.—Sat with Private Merited, listening to Lieut. True Born on + the mistakes of Wellington. +</p> +<p> + 12.5 a.m.—Rose to go to bed. Was about to turn out gas in hall when I + discovered the lieutenant standing with his face to the wall playing pat- + a-cake with it. Gave him three-parts of a tumbler of brandy. Said he + felt better and went upstairs. Arrived in his bed-room, he looked about + him carefully, and then, with a superb sweep of his left arm, swept the + best Chippendale looking-glass in the family off the dressing table and + dived face down-wards to the floor, missing death and the corner of the + chest of drawers by an inch. +</p> +<p> + 12:15 a.m.—Rolled him on to his back and got his feet on the bed. They + fell off again as soon as they were cleaner than the quilt. The + lieutenant, startled by the crash, opened his eyes and climbed into bed + unaided. +</p> +<p> + 12.20 a.m.—Sent Private Merited for the M.O., Captain Geranium. +</p> +<p> + 12.25 a.m.—Mixed a dose of brandy and castor-oil in a tumbler. Am told + it slips down like an oyster that way—bad oyster, I should think. + Lieut. True Born jibbed. Reminded him that England expects that every + man will take his castor-oil. Reply unprintable. Apologized a moment + later. Said that his mind was wandering and that he thought he was a + colonel. Reassured him. +</p> +<p> + 12.40 a.m.—Private Merited returned with the M.O. Latter nicely dressed + in musical-comedy pyjamas of ravishing hue, and great-coat, with rose- + tinted feet thrust into red morocco slippers. Held consultation and + explained my treatment. M.O. much impressed, anxious to know whether I + was a doctor. Told him "No," but that I knew all the ropes. First give + patient castor-oil, then diet him and call every day to make sure that he + doesn't like his food. After that, if he shows signs of getting well too + soon, give him a tonic. . . . M.O. stuffy. +</p> +<p> + Dec. 10.—M.O. diagnosed attack as due to something which True Born + believes to be tobacco, with which he disinfects the house, the + mess-sheds, and the streets of Berkhamsted. +</p> +<p> + Dec. 11.—True Born, shorn of thirteen pipes a day out of sixteen, + disparages the whole race of M.O.'s. +</p> +<p> + Dec. 14.—He obtains leave to attend wedding of a great-aunt and + ransacks London for a specialist who advocates strong tobacco. +</p> +<p> + Dec. 15.—He classes specialists with M.O.'s. Is surprised (and + apparently disappointed) that, so far, the breaking of the looking-glass + has brought me no ill-luck. Feel somewhat uneasy myself until glass is + repaired by local cabinet-maker. +</p> +<p> + Jan. 10, 1917.—Lieut. True Born starts to break in another horse. +</p> +<p> + Feb. 1.—Horse broken. +</p> +<p> + March 3.—Running short of tobacco, go to my billet's room and try a pipe + of his. Take all the remedies except the castor-oil. +</p> +<p> + April 4, 8.30 a.m.—Awakened by an infernal crash and discover that my + poor looking-glass is in pieces again on the floor. True Born explains + that its position, between the open door and the open window, was too + much for it. Don't believe a word of it. Shall believe to my dying day + that it burst in a frantic but hopeless attempt to tell Lieut. True Born + the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. +</p> +<p> + April 6.—The lieutenant watching for some sign of misfortune to me. + Says that I can't break a mirror twice without ill-luck following it. + Me! +</p> +<p> + April 9.—Lieut. True Born comes up to me with a face full of conflicting + emotions. "Your ill-luck has come at last," he says with gloomy + satisfaction. "We go under canvas on the 23rd. You are losing me!" +</p> +<a name="2H_4_9"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<h2> + THE SUBSTITUTE +</h2> +<p> + The night watchman had just returned to the office fire after leaving it + to attend a ring at the wharf bell. He sat for some time puffing + fiercely at his pipe and breathing heavily. +</p> +<p> + "Boys!" he said, at last. "That's the third time this week, and yet if I + was to catch one and skin 'im alive I suppose I should get into trouble + over it. Even 'is own father and mother would make a fuss, most like. + Some people have boys, and other people 'ave the trouble of 'em. Our + street's full of 'em, and the way they carry on would make a monkey-'ouse + ashamed of itself. The man next door to me's got seven of 'em, and when + I spoke to 'im friendly about it over a pint one night, he put the blame + on 'is wife. +</p> +<p> + "The worst boy I ever knew used to be office-boy in this 'ere office, and + I can't understand now why I wasn't 'ung for him. Undersized little chap + he was, with a face the colour o' bad pie-crust, and two little black + eyes like shoe-buttons. To see 'im with his little white cuffs, and a + stand-up collar, and a little black bow, and a little bowler-'at, was + enough to make a cat laugh. I told 'im so one day, and arter that we + knew where we was. Both of us. +</p> +<p> + "By rights he ought to 'ave left the office at six—just my time for + coming on. As it was, he used to stay late, purtending to work 'ard so + as to get a rise. Arter all the clerks 'ad gorn 'ome he used to sit + perched up on a stool yards too 'igh for him, with one eye on the ledger + and the other looking through the winder at me. I remember once going + off for 'arf a pint, and when I come back I found 'im with a policeman, + two carmen, and all the hands off of the Maid Marian, standing on the + edge of the jetty, waiting for me to come up. He said that, not finding + me on the wharf, 'e made sure that I must 'ave tumbled overboard, as he + felt certain that I wouldn't neglect my dooty while there was breath in + my body; but 'e was sorry to find 'e was mistook. He stood there talking + like a little clergyman, until one of the carmen knocked his 'at over 'is + eyes, and then he forgot 'imself for a bit. +</p> +<p> + "Arter that I used to wait until he 'ad gorn afore I 'ad my arf-pint. I + didn't want my good name taken away, and I had to be careful, and many's + the good arf-pint I 'ad to refuse because that little imitation monkey + was sitting in the office drawing faces on 'is blotting-paper. But + sometimes it don't matter 'ow careful you are, you make a mistake. +</p> +<p> + "There was a little steamer, called the Eastern Monarch, used to come up + here in them days, once a week. Fat little tub she was, with a crew o' + fattish old men, and a skipper that I didn't like. He'd been in the + coasting trade all 'is life, while I've knocked about all over the world, + but to hear 'im talk you'd think he knew more about things than I did. +</p> +<p> + "Eddication, Bill,' he ses one evening, 'that's the thing! You can't + argufy without it; you only talk foolish, like you are doing now.' +</p> +<p> + "'There's eddication and there's common sense,' I ses. 'Some people 'as + one and some people 'as the other. Give me common sense.' +</p> +<p> + "'That's wot you want,' he ses, nodding. +</p> +<p> + "'And, o' course,' I ses, looking at 'im, 'there's some people 'asn't got + either one or the other.' +</p> +<p> + "The office-boy came out of the office afore he could think of an answer, + and the pair of 'em stood there talking to show off their cleverness, + till their tongues ached. I took up my broom and went on sweeping, and + they was so busy talking long words they didn't know the meaning of to + each other that they was arf choked with dust afore they noticed it. + When they did notice it they left off using long words, and the skipper + tried to hurt my feelings with a few short ones 'e knew. +</p> +<p> + "'It's no good wasting your breath on 'im,' ses the boy. 'You might as + well talk to a beer-barrel.' +</p> +<p> + "He went off, dusting 'imself down with his little pocket-'ankercher, and + arter the skipper 'ad told me wot he'd like to do, only he was too sorry + for me to do it, 'e went back to the ship to put on a clean collar, and + went off for the evening. +</p> +<p> + "He always used to go off by hisself of a evening, and I used to wonder + 'ow he passed the time. Then one night I found out. +</p> +<p> + "I had just come out of the Bear's Head, and stopped to look round afore + going back to the wharf, when I see a couple o' people standing on the + swing-bridge saying 'Good-bye' to each other. One of 'em was a man and + the other wasn't. +</p> +<p> + "'Evening, cap'n,' I ses, as he came towards me, and gave a little start. + 'I didn't know you 'ad brought your missis up with you this trip.' +</p> +<p> + "'Evening, Bill,' he ses, very peaceful. 'Wot a lovely evening!' +</p> +<p> + "'Bee-utiful!' I ses. +</p> +<p> + "'So fresh,' ses the skipper, sniffing in some of the air. +</p> +<p> + "'Makes you feel quite young agin,' I ses. +</p> +<p> + "He didn't say nothing to that, except to look at me out of the corner of + 'is eye; and stepping on to the wharf had another look at the sky to + admire it, and then went aboard his ship. If he 'ad only stood me a + pint, and trusted me, things might ha' turned out different. +</p> +<p> + "Quite by chance I happened to be in the Bear's Head a week arterwards, + and, quite by chance, as I came out I saw the skipper saying 'Good-bye' + on the bridge agin. He seemed to be put out about something, and when I + said 'Wot a lovely evening it would be if only it wasn't raining 'ard!' + he said something about knocking my 'ead off. +</p> +<p> + "'And you keep your nose out o' my bisness,' he ses, very fierce. +</p> +<p> + "'Your bisness!' I ses. 'Wot bisness?' +</p> +<p> + "'There's some people as might like to know that you leave the wharf to + look arter itself while you're sitting in a pub swilling gallons and + gallons o' beer,' he ses, in a nasty sort o' way. 'Live and let live, + that's my motter." +</p> +<p> + "'I don't know wot you're talking about,' I ses, 'but it don't matter + anyways. I've got a clear conscience; that's the main thing. I'm as + open as the day, and there's nothing about me that I'd mind anybody + knowing. Wot a pity it is everybody can't say the same!' +</p> +<p> + "I didn't see 'im saying 'Good-bye' the next week or the week arter that + either, but the third week, arter just calling in at the Bear's Head, I + strolled on casual-like and got as far as the bottom of Tower Hill afore + I remembered myself. Turning the corner, I a'most fell over the skipper, + wot was right in the fair way, shaking 'ands with his lady-friend under + the lamp-post. Both of 'em started, and I couldn't make up my mind which + gave me the most unpleasant look. +</p> +<p> + "'Peep-bo!' I ses, cheerful-like. +</p> +<p> + "He stood making a gobbling noise at me, like a turkey. +</p> +<p> + "'Give me quite a start, you did,' I ses. 'I didn't dream of you being + there.' +</p> +<p> + "'Get off!' he ses, spluttering. 'Get off, afore I tear you limb from + limb! 'Ow dare you follow me about and come spying round corners at me? + Wot d'ye mean by it?' +</p> +<p> + "I stood there with my arms folded acrost my chest, as calm as a + cucumber. The other party stood there watching us, and wot 'e could 'ave + seen in her, I can't think. She was dressed more like a man than a + woman, and it would have taken the good looks of twenty like her to 'ave + made one barmaid. I stood looking at 'er like a man in a dream. +</p> +<p> + "'Well, will you know me agin?' she ses, in a nasty cracked sort of + voice. +</p> +<p> + "'I could pick you out of a million,' I ses—'if I wanted to.' +</p> +<p> + "'Clear out!' ses the skipper. 'Clear out! And thank your stars there's + a lady present.' +</p> +<p> + "'Don't take no notice of 'im, Captain Pratt,' ses the lady. 'He's + beneath you. You only encourage people like that by taking notice of + 'em. Good-bye.' +</p> +<p> + "She held out her 'and, and while the skipper was shaking it I began to + walk back to the wharf. I 'adn't gorn far afore I heard 'im coming up + behind me, and next moment 'e was walking alongside and saying things to + try and make me lose my temper. +</p> +<p> + "'Ah, it's a pity your pore missis can't 'ear you!' I ses. 'I expect she + thinks you are stowed away in your bunk dreaming of 'er, instead of + saying things about a face as don't belong to you.' +</p> +<p> + "'You mind your bisness,' he ses, shouting. 'And not so much about my + missis! D'ye hear? Wot's it got to do with you? Who asked you to shove + your oar in?' +</p> +<p> + "'You're quite mistook,' I ses, very calm. 'I'd no idea that there was + anything on as shouldn't be. I was never more surprised in my life. If + anybody 'ad told me, I shouldn't 'ave believed 'em. I couldn't. Knowing + you, and knowing 'ow respectable you 'ave always purtended to be, and + also and likewise that you ain't no chicken——' +</p> +<p> + "I thought 'e was going to 'ave a fit. He 'opped about, waving his arms + and stuttering and going on in such a silly way that I didn't like to be + seen with 'im. Twice he knocked my 'at off, and arter telling him wot + would 'appen if 'e did it agin, I walked off and left him. +</p> +<p> + "Even then 'e wasn't satisfied, and arter coming on to the wharf and + following me up and down like a little dog, he got in front of me and + told me some more things he 'ad thought of. +</p> +<p> + "'If I catch you spying on me agin,' he ses, 'you'll wish you'd never + been born!' +</p> +<p> + "'You get aboard and 'ave a quiet sleep,' I ses. 'You're wandering in + your mind.' +</p> +<p> + "'The lady you saw me with,' he ses, looking at me very fierce, 'is a + friend o' mine that I meet sometimes for the sake of her talk.' +</p> +<p> + "'Talk!' I ses, staring at 'im. 'Talk! Wot, can't one woman talk enough + for you? Is your missis dumb? or wot?' +</p> +<p> + "'You don't understand,' he ses, cocking up 'is nose at me. 'She's a + interleckshal woman; full of eddication and information. When my missis + talks, she talks about the price o' things and says she must 'ave more + money. Or else she talks about things I've done, or sometimes things I + 'aven't done. It's all one to her. There's no pleasure in that sort o' + talk. It don't help a man.' +</p> +<p> + "'I never 'eard of any talk as did,' I ses. +</p> +<p> + "'I don't suppose you did,' he ses, sneering-like. 'Now, to-night, fust + of all, we talked about the House of Lords and whether it ought to be + allowed; and arter that she gave me quite a little lecture on insecks.' +</p> +<p> + "'It don't seem proper to me,' I ses. 'I 'ave spoke to my wife about 'em + once or twice, but I should no more think of talking about such things to + a single lady——' +</p> +<p> + "He began to jump about agin as if I'd bit 'im, and he 'ad so much to say + about my 'ed and blocks of wood that I pretty near lost my temper. I + should ha' lost it with some men, but 'e was a very stiff-built chap and + as hard as nails. +</p> +<p> + "'Beer's your trouble,' he ses, at last. 'Fust of all you put it down, + and then it climbs up and soaks wot little brains you've got. Wot you + want is a kind friend to prevent you from getting it.' +</p> +<p> + "I don't know wot it was, but I 'ad a sort of sinking feeling inside as + 'e spoke, and next evening, when I saw 'im walk to the end of the jetty + with the office-boy and stand there talking to 'im with his 'and on his + shoulder, it came on worse than ever. And I put two and two together + when the guv'nor came up to me next day, and, arter talking about 'dooty' + and 'ow easy it was to get night-watchmen, mentioned in 'a off-'and sort + of way that, if I left the wharf at all between six and six, I could stay + away altogether. +</p> +<p> + "I didn't answer 'im a word. I might ha' told 'im that there was plenty + of people arter me ready to give me double the money, but I knew he could + never get anybody to do their dooty by the wharf like I 'ad done, so I + kept quiet. It's the way I treat my missis nowadays, and it pays; in the + old days I used to waste my breath answering 'er back. +</p> +<p> + "I wouldn't ha' minded so much if it 'adn't ha' been for that boy. He + used to pass me, as 'e went off of a evening, with a little sly smile on + 'is ugly little face, and sometimes when I was standing at the gate he'd + give a sniff or two and say that he could smell beer, and he supposed it + came from the Bear's Head. +</p> +<p> + "It was about three weeks arter the guv'nor 'ad forgot 'imself, and I was + standing by the gate one evening, when I saw a woman coming along + carrying a big bag in her 'and. I 'adn't seen 'er afore, and when she + stopped in front of me and smiled I was on my guard at once. I don't + smile at other people, and I don't expect them to smile at me. +</p> +<p> + "'At last!' she ses, setting down 'er bag and giving me another smile. + 'I thought I was never going to get 'ere." +</p> +<p> + "I coughed and backed inside a little bit on to my own ground. I didn't + want to 'ave that little beast of a office-boy spreading tales about me. +</p> +<p> + "'I've come up to 'ave a little fling,' she ses, smiling away harder than + ever. 'My husband don't know I'm 'ere. He thinks I'm at 'ome.' +</p> +<p> + "I think I went back pretty near three yards. +</p> +<p> + "'I come up by train,' she ses, nodding. +</p> +<p> + "'Yes,' I ses, very severe, 'and wot about going back by it?' +</p> +<p> + "'Oh, I shall go back by ship,' she ses. 'Wot time do you expect the + Eastern Monarch up?' +</p> +<p> + "'Well,' I ses, 'ardly knowing wot to make of 'er, 'she ought to be up + this tide; but there's no reckoning on wot an old washtub with a engine + like a sewing-machine inside 'er will do.' +</p> +<p> + "'Oh, indeed!' she ses, leaving off smiling very sudden. 'Oh, indeed! + My husband might 'ave something to say about that.' +</p> +<p> + "'Your 'usband?' I ses. +</p> +<p> + "'Captain Pratt,' she ses, drawing 'erself up. 'I'm Mrs. Pratt. He left + yesterday morning, and I've come up 'ere by train to give 'im a little + surprise.' +</p> +<p> + "You might ha' knocked me down with a feather, and I stood there staring + at her with my mouth open, trying to think. +</p> +<p> + "'Take care,' I ses at last. 'Take care as you don't give 'im too much + of a surprise!' +</p> +<p> + "'Wot do you mean?' she ses, firing up. +</p> +<p> + "'Nothing,' I ses. 'Nothing, only I've known 'usbands in my time as + didn't like being surprised—that's all. If you take my advice, you'll + go straight back home agin.' +</p> +<p> + "'I'll tell 'im wot you say,' she ses, 'as soon as 'is ship comes in.' +</p> +<p> + "That's a woman all over; the moment they get into a temper they want to + hurt somebody; and I made up my mind at once that, if anybody was going + to be 'urt, it wasn't me. And, besides, I thought it might be for the + skipper's good—in the long run. +</p> +<p> + "I broke it to her as gentle as I could. I didn't tell 'er much, I just + gave her a few 'ints. Just enough to make her ask for more. +</p> +<p> + "'And mind,' I ses, 'I don't want to be brought into it. If you should + 'appen to take a fancy into your 'ed to wait behind a pile of empties + till the ship comes in, and then slip out and foller your 'usband and + give 'im the little surprise you spoke of, it's nothing to do with me.' +</p> +<p> + "'I understand,' she ses, biting her lip. 'There's no need for 'im to + know that I've been on the wharf at all.' +</p> +<p> + "I gave 'er a smile—I thought she deserved it—but she didn't smile + back. She was rather a nice-looking woman in the ordinary way, but I + could easy see 'ow temper spoils a woman's looks. She stood there giving + little shivers and looking as if she wanted to bite somebody. +</p> +<p> + "'I'll go and hide now,' she ses. +</p> +<p> + "'Not yet,' I ses. 'You'll 'ave to wait till that little blackbeetle in + the office 'as gorn.' 'Blackbeetle?' she ses, staring. +</p> +<p> + "'Office-boy,' I ses. 'He'd better not see you at all. S'pose you go + off for a bit and come back when I whistle?' +</p> +<p> + "Afore she could answer the boy came out of the office, ready to go 'ome. + He gave a little bit of a start when 'e saw me talking to a lady, and + then 'e nips down sudden, about a couple o' yards away, and begins to do + 'is bootlace up. It took 'im some time, because he 'ad to undo it fust, + but 'e finished it at last, and arter a quick look at Mrs. Pratt, and one + at me that I could ha' smacked his 'ed for, 'e went off whistling and + showing 'is little cuffs. +</p> +<p> + "I stepped out into the road and watched 'im out o' sight. Then I told + Mrs. Pratt to pick up 'er bag and foller me. +</p> +<p> + "As it 'appened there was a big pile of empties in the corner of the + ware'ouse wall, just opposite the Eastern Monarch's berth. It might ha' + been made for the job, and, arter I 'ad tucked her away behind and given + 'er a box to sit on, I picked up my broom and began to make up for lost + time. +</p> +<p> + "She sat there as quiet as a cat watching a mouse'ole, and I was going on + with my work, stopping every now and then to look and see whether the + Monarch was in sight, when I 'appened to turn round and see the office- + boy standing on the edge of the wharf with his back to the empties, + looking down at the water. I nearly dropped my broom. +</p> +<p> + "''Ullo!' I ses, going up to 'im. 'I thought you 'ad gorn 'ome.' +</p> +<p> + "'I was going,' he ses, with a nasty oily little smile, 'and then it + struck me all of a sudden 'ow lonely it was for you all alone 'ere, and I + come back to keep you company.' +</p> +<p> + "He winked at something acrost the river as 'e spoke, and I stood there + thinking my 'ardest wot was the best thing to be done. I couldn't get + Mrs. Pratt away while 'e was there; besides which I felt quite sartain + she wouldn't go. The only 'ope I 'ad was that he'd get tired of spying + on me and go away before he found out she was 'iding on the wharf. +</p> +<p> + "I walked off in a unconcerned way—not too far—and, with one eye on 'im + and the other on where Mrs. Pratt was 'iding, went on with my work. + There's nothing like 'ard work when a man is worried, and I was a'most + forgetting my troubles, when I looked up and saw the Monarch coming up + the river. +</p> +<p> + "She turned to come into 'er berth, with the skipper shouting away on the + bridge and making as much fuss as if 'e was berthing a liner. I helped + to make 'er fast, and the skipper, arter 'e had 'ad a good look round to + see wot 'e could find fault with, went below to clean 'imself. +</p> +<p> + "He was up agin in about ten minutes, with a clean collar and a clean + face, and a blue neck-tie that looked as though it 'ad got yeller + measles. Good temper 'e was in, too, and arter pulling the office-boy's + ear, gentle, as 'e was passing, he stopped for a moment to 'ave a word + with 'im. +</p> +<p> + "'Bit late, ain't you?' he ses. +</p> +<p> + "'I've been keeping a eye on the watchman,' ses the boy. 'He works + better when 'e knows there's somebody watching 'im.' +</p> +<p> + "'Look 'ere!' I ses. 'You take yourself off; I've had about enough of + you. You take your little face 'ome and ask your mother to wipe its + nose. Strickly speaking, you've no right to be on the wharf at all at + this time.' +</p> +<p> + "'I've as much right as other people,' he ses, giving me a wicked look. + 'I've got more right than some people, p'r'aps.' +</p> +<p> + "He stooped down deliberate and, picking up a bit o' coke from the 'eap + by the crane, pitched it over at the empties. +</p> +<p> + "'Stop that!' I ses, shouting at 'im. +</p> +<p> + "'What for?' 'e ses, shying another piece. 'Why shouldn't I?' +</p> +<p> + "'Cos I won't 'ave it,' I ses. 'D'ye hear? Stop it!' +</p> +<p> + "I rushed at 'im as he sent another piece over, and for the next two or + three minutes 'e was dodging me and chucking coke at the empties, with + the fool of a skipper standing by laughing, and two or three of the crew + leaning over the side and cheering 'im on. +</p> +<p> + "'All right,' he ses, at last, dusting 'is hands together. 'I've + finished. There's no need to make such a fuss over a bit of coke.' +</p> +<p> + "'You've wasted pretty near arf a 'undered-weight,' I ses. 'I've a good + mind to report you.' +</p> +<p> + "'Don't do that, watchman!' he ses, in a pitiful voice. 'Don't do that! + 'Ere, I tell you wot I'll do. I'll pick it all up agin.' +</p> +<p> + "Afore I could move 'and or foot he 'ad shifted a couple o' cases out of + 'is way and was in among the empties. I stood there dazed-like while two + bits o' coke came flying back past my 'ed; then I 'eard a loud whistle, + and 'e came out agin with 'is eyes rolling and 'is mouth wide open. +</p> +<p> + "'Wot's the matter?' ses the skipper, staring at 'im. +</p> +<p> + "'I—I—I'm sorry, watchman,' ses that beast of a boy, purtending 'e was + 'ardly able to speak. 'I'd no idea——' +</p> +<p> + "'All right,' I ses, very quick. +</p> +<p> + "'Wot's the matter?' ses the skipper agin; and as 'e spoke it came over + me like a flash wot a false persition I was in, and wot a nasty-tempered + man 'e could be when 'e liked. +</p> +<p> + "'Why didn't you tell me you'd got a lady-friend there?' ses the boy, + shaking his 'ed at me. 'Why, I might 'ave hit 'er with a bit o' coke, + and never forgiven myself!' +</p> +<p> + "'Lady-friend!' ses the skipper, with a start. 'Oh, Bill, I am + surprised!' +</p> +<p> + "My throat was so dry I couldn't 'ardly speak. 'It's my missis,' I ses, + at last. +</p> +<p> + "'Your missis?' ses the skipper. 'Woes she 'iding behind there for?' +</p> +<p> + "'She—she's shy,' I ses. 'Always was, all 'er life. She can't bear + other people. She likes to be alone with me.' +</p> +<p> + "'Oh, watchman!' ses the boy. 'I wonder where you expect to go to?' +</p> +<p> + "'Missis my grandmother!' ses the skipper, with a wink. 'I'm going to + 'ave a peep.' +</p> +<p> + "'Stand back!' I ses, pushing 'im off. 'I don't spy on you, and I don't + want you to come spying on me. You get off! D'ye hear me? Get off!' +</p> +<p> + "We had a bit of a struggle, till my foot slipped, and while I was waving + my arms and trying to get my balance back 'e made a dash for the empties. + Next moment he was roaring like a mad bull that 'ad sat down in a + sorsepan of boiling water, and rushing back agin to kill me. +</p> +<p> + "I believe that if it 'adn't ha' been for a couple o' lightermen wot 'ad + just come on to the jetty from their skiff, and two of his own 'ands, + he'd ha' done it. Crazy with passion 'e was, and it was all the four of + 'em could do to hold 'im. Every now and then he'd get a yard nearer to + me, and then they'd pull 'im back a couple o' yards and beg of 'im to + listen to reason and 'ear wot I 'ad to say. And as soon as I started and + began to tell 'em about 'is lady-friend he broke out worse than ever. + People acrost the river must ha' wondered wot was 'appening. There was + two lightermen, two sailormen, me and the skipper, and Mrs. Pratt all + talking at once, and nobody listening but the office-boy. And in the + middle of it all the wicket was pushed open and the 'ed of the lady wot + all the trouble was about peeped in, and drew back agin. +</p> +<p> + "'There you are!' I ses, shouting my 'ardest. 'There she is. That's the + lady I was telling you about. Now, then: put 'em face to face and clear + my character. Don't let 'er escape.' +</p> +<p> + "One o' the lightermen let go o' the skipper and went arter 'er, and, + just as I was giving the other three a helping 'and, 'e came back with + 'er. Mrs. Pratt caught 'er breath, and as for the skipper, 'e didn't + know where to look, as the saying is. I just saw the lady give 'im one + quick look, and then afore I could dream of wot was coming, she rushes up + to me and flings 'er long, bony arms round my neck. +</p> +<p> + "'Why, William!' she ses, 'wot's the matter? Why didn't you meet me? + Didn't you get my letter? Or 'ave you ceased to care for me?" +</p> +<p> + "'Let go!' I ses, struggling. 'Let go! D'ye 'ear? Wot d'ye mean by it? + You've got 'old of the wrong one.' +</p> +<p> + "'Oh, 'William!' she ses, arf strangling me. ''Ow can you talk to me like + that? Where's your 'art?' +</p> +<p> + "I never knew a woman so strong. I don't suppose she'd ever 'ad the + chance of getting 'er arms round a man's neck afore, and she hung on to + me as if she'd never let go. And all the time I was trying to explain + things to them over 'er shoulder I could see they didn't believe a word I + was saying. One o' the lightermen said I was a 'wonder,' and the other + said I was a 'fair cough-drop.' Me! +</p> +<p> + "She got tired of it at last, but by that time I was so done up I + couldn't say a word. I just dropped on to a box and sat there getting my + breath back while the skipper forgave 'is wife for 'er unjust suspicions + of 'im—but told 'er not to do it agin—and the office-boy was saying I'd + surprised even 'im. The last I saw of the lady-friend, the two + lightermen was helping 'er to walk to the gate, and the two sailormen was + follering 'er up behind, carrying 'er pocket-'ankercher and upberella." +</p> +<a name="2H_4_10"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<h2> + STRIKING HARD +</h2> +<p> + "You've what?" demanded Mrs. Porter, placing the hot iron carefully on + its stand and turning a heated face on the head of the family. +</p> +<p> + "Struck," repeated Mr. Porter; "and the only wonder to me is we've stood + it so long as we have. If I was to tell you all we've 'ad to put up with + I don't suppose you'd believe me." +</p> +<p> + "Very likely," was the reply. "You can keep your fairy-tales for them + that like 'em. They're no good to me." +</p> +<p> + "We stood it till flesh and blood could stand it no longer," declared her + husband, "and at last we came out, shoulder to shoulder, singing. The + people cheered us, and one of our leaders made 'em a speech." +</p> +<p> + "I should have liked to 'ave heard the singing," remarked his wife. "If + they all sang like you, it must ha' been as good as a pantermime! Do you + remember the last time you went on strike?" +</p> +<p> + "This is different," said Mr. Porter, with dignity. +</p> +<p> + "All our things went, bit by bit," pursued his wife, "all the money we + had put by for a rainy day, and we 'ad to begin all over again. What are + we going to live on? O' course, you might earn something by singing in + the street; people who like funny faces might give you something! Why + not go upstairs and put your 'ead under the bed-clothes and practise a + bit?" +</p> +<p> + Mr. Porter coughed. "It'll be all right," he said, confidently. "Our + committee knows what it's about; Bert Robinson is one of the best + speakers I've ever 'eard. If we don't all get five bob a week more I'll + eat my 'ead." +</p> +<p> + "It's the best thing you could do with it," snapped his wife. She took + up her iron again, and turning an obstinate back to his remarks resumed + her work. +</p> +<p> + Mr. Porter lay long next morning, and, dressing with comfortable + slowness, noticed with pleasure that the sun was shining. Visions of a + good breakfast and a digestive pipe, followed by a walk in the fresh air, + passed before his eyes as he laced his boots. Whistling cheerfully he + went briskly downstairs. +</p> +<p> + It was an October morning, but despite the invigorating chill in the air + the kitchen-grate was cold and dull. Herring-bones and a disorderly + collection of dirty cups and platters graced the table. Perplexed and + angry, he looked around for his wife, and then, opening the back-door, + stood gaping with astonishment. The wife of his bosom, who should have + had a bright fire and a good breakfast waiting for him, was sitting on a + box in the sunshine, elbows on knees and puffing laboriously at a + cigarette. +</p> +<p> + "Susan!" he exclaimed. +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Porter turned, and, puffing out her lips, blew an immense volume of + smoke. "Halloa!" she said, carelessly. +</p> +<p> + "Wot—wot does this mean?" demanded her husband. +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Porter smiled with conscious pride. "I made it come out of my nose + just now," she replied. "At least, some of it did, and I swallowed the + rest. Will it hurt me?" +</p> +<p> + "Where's my breakfast?" inquired the other, hotly. "Why ain't the + kitchen-fire alight? Wot do you think you're doing of?" +</p> +<p> + "I'm not doing anything," said his wife, with an aggrieved air. "I'm on + strike." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Porter reeled against the door-post. "Wot!" he stammered. "On + strike? Nonsense! You can't be." +</p> +<p> + "O, yes, I can," retorted Mrs. Porter, closing one eye and ministering to + it hastily with the corner of her apron. "Not 'aving no Bert Robinson to + do it for me, I made a little speech all to myself, and here I am." +</p> +<p> + She dropped her apron, replaced the cigarette, and, with her hands on her + plump knees, eyes him steadily. +</p> +<p> + "But—but this ain't a factory," objected the dismayed man; "and, besides + —I won't 'ave it!" +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Porter laughed—a fat, comfortable laugh, but with a touch of + hardness in it. +</p> +<p> + "All right, mate," she said, comfortably. "What are you out on strike + for?" +</p> +<p> + "Shorter hours and more money," said Mr. Porter, glaring at her. +</p> +<p> + His wife nodded. "So am I," she said. "I wonder who gets it first?" +</p> +<p> + She smiled agreeably at the bewildered Mr. Porter, and, extracting a + paper packet of cigarettes from her pocket, lit a fresh one at the stub + of the first. +</p> +<p> + "That's the worst of a woman," said her husband, avoiding her eye and + addressing a sanitary dustbin of severe aspect; "they do things without + thinking first. That's why men are superior; before they do a thing they + look at it all round, and upside down, and—and—make sure it can be + done. Now, you get up in a temper this morning, and the first thing you + do—not even waiting to get my breakfast ready first—is to go on strike. + If you'd thought for two minutes you'd see as 'ow it's impossible for you + to go on strike for more than a couple of hours or so." +</p> +<p> + "Why?" inquired Mrs. Porter. +</p> +<p> + "Kids," replied her husband, triumphantly. "They'll be coming 'ome from + school soon, won't they? And they'll be wanting their dinner, won't + they?" +</p> +<p> + "That's all right," murmured the other, vaguely. +</p> +<p> + "After which, when night comes," pursued Mr. Porter, "they'll 'ave to be + put to bed. In the morning they'll 'ave to be got up and washed and + dressed and given their breakfast and sent off to school. Then there's + shopping wot must be done, and beds wot must be made." +</p> +<p> + "I'll make ours," said his wife, decidedly. "For my own sake." +</p> +<p> + "And wot about the others?" inquired Mr. Porter. +</p> +<p> + "The others'll be made by the same party as washes the children, and + cooks their dinner for 'em, and puts 'em to bed, and cleans the 'ouse," + was the reply. +</p> +<p> + "I'm not going to have your mother 'ere," exclaimed Mr. Porter, with + sudden heat. "Mind that!" +</p> +<p> + "I don't want her," said Mrs. Porter. "It's a job for a strong, healthy + man, not a pore old thing with swelled legs and short in the breath." +</p> +<p> + "Strong—'ealthy—man!" repeated her husband, in a dazed voice. + "Strong—'eal—— Wot are you talking about?" +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Porter beamed on him. "You," she said, sweetly. +</p> +<p> + There was a long silence, broken at last by a firework display of + expletives. Mrs. Porter, still smiling, sat unmoved. +</p> +<p> + "You may smile!" raved the indignant Mr. Porter. "You may sit there + smiling and smoking like a—like a man, but if you think that I'm going + to get the meals ready, and soil my 'ands with making beds and washing-up, + you're mistook. There's some 'usbands I know as would set about you!" +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Porter rose. "Well, I can't sit here gossiping with you all day," + she said, entering the house. +</p> +<p> + "Wot are you going to do?" demanded her husband, following her. +</p> +<p> + "Going to see Aunt Jane and 'ave a bit o' dinner with her," was the + reply. "And after that I think I shall go to the 'pictures.' If you 'ave + bloaters for dinner be very careful with little Jemmy and the bones." +</p> +<p> + "I forbid you to leave this 'ouse!" said Mr. Porter, in a thrilling + voice. "If you do you won't find nothing done when you come home, and + all the kids dirty and starving." +</p> +<p> + "Cheerio!" said Mrs. Porter. +</p> +<p> + Arrayed in her Sunday best she left the house half an hour later. A + glance over her shoulder revealed her husband huddled up in a chair in + the dirty kitchen, gazing straight before him at the empty grate. +</p> +<p> + He made a hearty breakfast at a neighbouring coffee-shop, and, returning + home, lit the fire and sat before it, smoking. The return of the four + children from school, soon after midday, found him still wrestling with + the difficulties of the situation. His announcement that their mother + was out and that there would be no dinner was received at first in + stupefied silence. Then Jemmy, opening his mouth to its widest extent, + acted as conductor to an all-too-willing chorus. +</p> +<p> + The noise was unbearable, and Mr. Porter said so. Pleased with the + tribute, the choir re-doubled its efforts, and Mr. Porter, vociferating + orders for silence, saw only too clearly the base advantage his wife had + taken of his affection for his children. He took some money from his + pocket and sent the leading treble out marketing, after which, with the + assistance of a soprano aged eight, he washed up the breakfast things and + placed one of them in the dustbin. +</p> +<p> + The entire family stood at his elbow as he cooked the dinner, and + watched, with bated breath, his frantic efforts to recover a sausage + which had fallen out of the frying-pan into the fire. A fourfold sigh of + relief heralded its return to the pan. +</p> +<p> + "Mother always—" began the eldest boy. +</p> +<p> + Mr. Porter took his scorched fingers out of his mouth and smacked the + critic's head. +</p> +<p> + The dinner was not a success. Portions of half-cooked sausages returned + to the pan, and coming back in the guise of cinders failed to find their + rightful owners. +</p> +<p> + "Last time we had sausages," said the eight-year-old Muriel, "they melted + in your mouth." Mr. Porter glowered at her. +</p> +<p> + "Instead of in the fire," said the eldest boy, with a mournful snigger. +</p> +<p> + "If I get up to you, my lad," said the harassed Mr. Porter, "you'll know + it! Pity you don't keep your sharpness for your lessons! Wot country is + Africa in?" +</p> +<p> + "Why, Africa's a continent!" said the startled youth. +</p> +<p> + "Jes so," said his father; "but wot I'm asking you is: wot country is it + in?" +</p> +<p> + "Asia," said the reckless one, with a side-glance at Muriel. +</p> +<p> + "And why couldn't you say so before?" demanded Mr. Porter, sternly. + "Now, you go to the sink and give yourself a thorough good wash. And + mind you come straight home from school. There's work to be done." +</p> +<p> + He did some of it himself after the children had gone, and finished up + the afternoon with a little shopping, in the course of which he twice + changed his grocer and was threatened with an action for slander by his + fishmonger. He returned home with his clothes bulging, although a couple + of eggs in the left-hand coat-pocket had done their best to accommodate + themselves to his figure. +</p> +<p> + He went to bed at eleven o'clock, and at a quarter past, clad all too + lightly for the job, sped rapidly downstairs to admit his wife. +</p> +<p> + "Some 'usbands would 'ave let you sleep on the doorstep all night," he + said, crisply. +</p> +<p> + "I know they would," returned his wife, cheerfully. "That's why I + married you. I remember the first time I let you come 'ome with me, + mother ses: 'There ain't much of 'im, Susan,' she ses; 'still, arf a loaf + is better than—'" +</p> +<p> + The bedroom-door slammed behind the indignant Mr. Porter, and the three + lumps and a depression which had once been a bed received his quivering + frame again. With the sheet obstinately drawn over his head he turned a + deaf ear to his wife's panegyrics on striking and her heartfelt tribute + to the end of a perfect day. Even when standing on the cold floor while + she remade the bed he maintained an attitude of unbending dignity, only + relaxing when she smote him light-heartedly with the bolster. In a few + ill-chosen words he expressed his opinion of her mother and her + deplorable methods of bringing up her daughters. +</p> +<p> + He rose early next morning, and, after getting his own breakfast, put on + his cap and went out, closing the street-door with a bang that awoke the + entire family and caused the somnolent Mrs. Porter to open one eye for + the purpose of winking with it. Slowly, as became a man of leisure, he + strolled down to the works, and, moving from knot to knot of his + colleagues, discussed the prospects of victory. Later on, with a little + natural diffidence, he drew Mr. Bert Robinson apart and asked his advice + upon a situation which was growing more and more difficult. +</p> +<p> + "I've got my hands pretty full as it is, you know," said Mr. Robinson, + hastily. +</p> +<p> + "I know you 'ave, Bert," murmured the other. "But, you see, she told me + last night she's going to try and get some of the other chaps' wives to + join 'er, so I thought I ought to tell you." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Robinson started. "Have you tried giving her a hiding?" he inquired. +</p> +<p> + Mr. Porter shook his head. "I daren't trust myself," he replied. "I + might go too far, once I started." +</p> +<p> + "What about appealing to her better nature?" inquired the other. +</p> +<p> + "She ain't got one," said the unfortunate. "Well, I'm sorry for you," + said Mr. Robinson, "but I'm busy. I've got to see a Labour-leader this + afternoon, and two reporters, and this evening there's the meeting. Try + kindness first, and if that don't do, lock her up in her bedroom and keep + her on bread and water." +</p> +<p> + He moved off to confer with his supporters, and Mr. Porter, after + wandering aimlessly about for an hour or two, returned home at mid-day + with a faint hope that his wife might have seen the error of her ways and + provided dinner for him. He found the house empty and the beds unmade. + The remains of breakfast stood on the kitchen-table, and a puddle of cold + tea decorated the floor. The arrival of the children from school, hungry + and eager, completed his discomfiture. +</p> +<p> + For several days he wrestled grimly with the situation, while Mrs. + Porter, who had planned out her week into four days of charing, two of + amusement, and Sunday in bed, looked on with smiling approval. She even + offered to give him a little instruction—verbal—in scrubbing the + kitchen-floor. +</p> +<p> + Mr. Porter, who was on his knees at the time, rose slowly to his full + height, and, with a superb gesture, emptied the bucket, which also + contained a scrubbing-brush and lump of soap, into the back-yard. Then + he set off down the street in quest of a staff. +</p> +<p> + He found it in the person of Maudie Stevens, aged fourteen, who lived a + few doors lower down. Fresh from school the week before, she cheerfully + undertook to do the housework and cooking, and to act as nursemaid in her + spare time. Her father, on his part, cheerfully under-took to take care + of her wages for her, the first week's, payable in advance, being banked + the same evening at the Lord Nelson. +</p> +<p> + It was another mouth to feed, but the strike-pay was coming in very well, + and Mr. Porter, relieved from his unmanly tasks, walked the streets a + free man. Beds were made without his interference, meals were ready + (roughly) at the appointed hour, and for the first time since the strike + he experienced satisfaction in finding fault with the cook. The + children's content was not so great, Maudie possessing a faith in the + virtues of soap and water that they made no attempt to share. They were + greatly relieved when their mother returned home after spending a couple + of days with Aunt Jane. +</p> +<p> + "What's all this?" she demanded, as she entered the kitchen, followed by + a lady-friend. +</p> +<p> + "What's all what?" inquired Mr. Porter, who was sitting at dinner with + the family. +</p> +<p> + "That," said his wife, pointing at the cook-general. +</p> +<p> + Mr. Porter put down his knife and fork. "Got 'er in to help," he + replied, uneasily. +</p> +<p> + "Do you hear that?" demanded his wife, turning to her friend, Mrs. + Gorman. "Oh, these masters!" +</p> +<p> + "Ah!" said her friend, vaguely. +</p> +<p> + "A strike-breaker!" said Mrs. Porter, rolling her eyes. +</p> +<p> + "Shame!" said Mrs. Gorman, beginning to understand. +</p> +<p> + "Coming after my job, and taking the bread out of my mouth," continued + Mrs. Porter, fluently. "Underselling me too, I'll be bound. That's what + comes of not having pickets." +</p> +<p> + "Unskilled labour," said Mrs. Gorman, tightening her lips and shaking her + head. +</p> +<p> + "A scab!" cried Mrs. Porter, wildly. "A scab!" +</p> +<p> + "Put her out," counselled her friend. +</p> +<p> + "Put her out!" repeated Mrs. Porter, in a terrible voice. "Put her out! + I'll tear her limb from limb! I'll put her in the copper and boil her!" +</p> +<p> + Her voice was so loud and her appearance so alarming that the unfortunate + Maudie, emitting three piercing shrieks, rose hastily from the table and + looked around for a way of escape. The road to the front-door was + barred, and with a final yelp that set her employer's teeth on edge she + dashed into the yard and went home via the back-fences. Housewives busy + in their kitchens looked up in amazement at the spectacle of a pair of + thin black legs descending one fence, scudding across the yard to the + accompaniment of a terrified moaning, and scrambling madly over the + other. At her own back-door Maudie collapsed on the step, and, to the + intense discomfort and annoyance of her father, had her first fit of + hysterics. +</p> +<p> + "And the next scab that comes into my house won't get off so easy," said + Mrs. Porter to her husband. "D'you understand?" +</p> +<p> + "If you 'ad some husbands—" began Mr. Porter, trembling with rage. +</p> +<p> + "Yes, I know," said his wife, nodding. "Don't cry, Jemmy," she added, + taking the youngest on her knee. "Mother's only having a little game. + She and dad are both on strike for more pay and less work." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Porter got up, and without going through the formality of saying + good-bye to the hard-featured Mrs. Gorman, put on his cap and went out. + Over a couple of half-pints taken as a sedative, he realized the growing + seriousness of his position. +</p> +<p> + In a dull resigned fashion he took up his household duties again, made + harder now than before by the scandalous gossip of the aggrieved Mr. + Stevens. The anonymous present of a much-worn apron put the finishing + touch to his discomfiture; and the well-meant offer of a fair neighbour + to teach him how to shake a mat without choking himself met with a + reception that took her breath away. +</p> +<p> + It was a surprise to him one afternoon to find that his wife had so far + unbent as to tidy up the parlour. Ornaments had been dusted and polished + and the carpet swept. She had even altered the position of the + furniture. The table had been pushed against the wall, and the easy- + chair, with its back to the window, stood stiffly confronting six or + seven assorted chairs, two of which at least had been promoted from a + lower sphere. +</p> +<p> + "It's for the meeting," said Muriel, peeping in. +</p> +<p> + "Meeting?" repeated her father, in a dazed voice. +</p> +<p> + "Strike-meetings," was the reply. "Mrs. Gorman and some other ladies are + coming at four o'clock. Didn't mother tell you?" +</p> +<p> + Mr. Porter, staring helplessly at the row of chairs, shook his head. +</p> +<p> + "Mrs. Evans is coming," continued Muriel, in a hushed voice—"the lady + what punched Mr. Brown because he kept Bobbie Evans in one day. He ain't + been kept in since. I wish you——" +</p> +<p> + She stopped suddenly, and, held by her father's gaze, backed slowly out + of the room. Mr. Porter, left with the chairs, stood regarding them + thoughtfully. Their emptiness made an appeal that no right-minded man + could ignore. He put his hand over his mouth and his eyes watered. +</p> +<p> + He spent the next half-hour in issuing invitations, and at half-past + three every chair was filled by fellow-strikers. Three cans of beer, + clay pipes, and a paper of shag stood on the table. Mr. Benjamin Todd, + an obese, fresh-coloured gentleman of middle age, took the easy-chair. + Glasses and teacups were filled. +</p> +<p> + "Gentlemen," said Mr. Todd, lighting his pipe, "afore we get on to the + business of this meeting I want to remind you that there is another + meeting, of ladies, at four o'clock; so we've got to hurry up. O' + course, if it should happen that we ain't finished——" +</p> +<p> + "Go on, Bennie!" said a delighted admirer. "I see a female 'ead peeping + in at the winder already," said a voice. +</p> +<p> + "Let 'em peep," said Mr. Todd, benignly. "Then p'r'aps they'll be able + to see how to run a meeting." +</p> +<p> + "There's two more 'eads," said the other. "Oh, Lord, I know I sha'n't be + able to keep a straight face!" +</p> +<p> + "H'sh!" commanded Mr. Todd, sternly, as the street-door was heard to + open. "Be'ave yourself. As I was saying, the thing we've got to + consider about this strike——" +</p> +<p> + The door opened, and six ladies, headed by Mrs. Porter, entered the room + in single file and ranged themselves silently along the wall. +</p> +<p> + "Strike," proceeded Mr. Todd, who found himself gazing uneasily into the + eyes of Mrs. Gorman——"strike—er—strike——" +</p> +<p> + "He said that before," said a stout lady, in a loud whisper; "I'm sure he + did." +</p> +<p> + "Is," continued Mr. Todd, "that we have got to keep this—this—er—" +</p> +<p> + "Strike," prompted the same voice. +</p> +<p> + Mr. Todd paused, and, wiping his mouth with a red pocket-handkerchief, + sat staring straight before him. +</p> +<p> + "I move," said Mrs. Evans, her sharp features twitching with excitement, + "that Mrs. Gorman takes the chair." +</p> +<p> + "'Ow can I take it when he's sitting in it?" demanded that lady. +</p> +<p> + "She's a lady that knows what she wants and how to get it," pursued Mrs. + Evans, unheeding. "She understands men—" +</p> +<p> + "I've buried two 'usbands," murmured Mrs. Gorman, nodding. +</p> +<p> + "And how to manage them," continued Mrs. Evans. "I move that Mrs. Gorman + takes the chair. Those in favour—" +</p> +<p> + Mr. Todd, leaning back in his chair and gripping the arms, gazed + defiantly at a row of palms. +</p> +<p> + "Carried unanimously!" snapped Mrs. Evans. +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Gorman, tall and bony, advanced and stood over Mr. Todd. Strong men + held their breath. +</p> +<p> + "It's my chair," she said, gruffly. "I've been moved into it." +</p> +<p> + "Possession," said Mr. Todd, in as firm a voice as he could manage, "is + nine points of the law. I'm here and—" +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Gorman turned, and, without the slightest warning, sat down suddenly + and heavily in his lap. A hum of admiration greeted the achievement. +</p> +<p> + "Get up!" shouted the horrified Mr. Todd. "Get up!" +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Gorman settled herself more firmly. +</p> +<p> + "Let me get up," said Mr. Todd, panting. +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Gorman rose, but remained in a hovering position, between which and + the chair Mr. Todd, flushed and dishevelled, extricated himself in all + haste. A shrill titter of laughter and a clapping of hands greeted his + appearance. He turned furiously on the pallid Mr. Porter. +</p> +<p> + "What d'you mean by it?" he demanded. "Are you the master, or ain't + you? A man what can't keep order in his own house ain't fit to be called + a man. If my wife was carrying on like this——" +</p> +<p> + "I wish I was your wife," said Mrs. Gorman, moistening her lips. +</p> +<p> + Mr. Todd turned slowly and surveyed her. +</p> +<p> + "I don't," he said, simply, and, being by this time near the door, faded + gently from the room. +</p> +<p> + "Order!" cried Mrs. Gorman, thumping the arm of her chair with a large, + hard-working fist. "Take your seats, ladies." +</p> +<p> + A strange thrill passed through the bodies of her companions and + communicated itself to the men in the chairs. There was a moment's tense + pause, and then the end man, muttering something about "going to see what + had happened to poor old Ben Todd," rose slowly and went out. His + companions, with heads erect and a look of cold disdain upon their faces, + followed him. +</p> +<p> + It was Mr. Porter's last meeting, but his wife had several more. They + lasted, in fact, until the day, a fortnight later, when he came in with + flushed face and sparkling eyes to announce that the strike was over and + the men victorious. +</p> +<p> + "Six bob a week more!" he said, with enthusiasm. "You see, I was right + to strike, after all." +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Porter eyed him. "I am out for four bob a week more," she said, + calmly. +</p> +<p> + Her husband swallowed. "You—you don't understand 'ow these things are + done," he said, at last. "It takes time. We ought to ne—negotiate." +</p> +<p> + "All right," said Mrs. Porter, readily. "Seven shillings a week, then." +</p> +<p> + "Let's say four and have done with it," exclaimed the other, hastily. +</p> +<p> + And Mrs. Porter said it. +</p> +<a name="2H_4_11"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<h2> + DIRTY WORK +</h2> +<p> + It was nearly high-water, and the night-watchman, who had stepped aboard + a lighter lying alongside the wharf to smoke a pipe, sat with half-closed + eyes enjoying the summer evening. The bustle of the day was over, the + wharves were deserted, and hardly a craft moved on the river. Perfumed + clouds of shag, hovering for a time over the lighter, floated lazily + towards the Surrey shore. +</p> +<p> + "There's one thing about my job," said the night-watchman, slowly, "it's + done all alone by yourself. There's no foreman a-hollering at you and + offering you a penny for your thoughts, and no mates to run into you from + behind with a loaded truck and then ask you why you didn't look where + you're going to. From six o'clock in the evening to six o'clock next + morning I'm my own master." +</p> +<p> + He rammed down the tobacco with an experienced forefinger and puffed + contentedly. +</p> +<p> + People like you 'ud find it lonely (he continued, after a pause); I did + at fust. I used to let people come and sit 'ere with me of an evening + talking, but I got tired of it arter a time, and when one chap fell + overboard while 'e was showing me 'ow he put his wife's mother in 'er + place, I gave it up altogether. There was three foot o' mud in the dock + at the time, and arter I 'ad got 'im out, he fainted in my arms. +</p> +<p> + Arter that I kept myself to myself. Say wot you like, a man's best + friend is 'imself. There's nobody else'll do as much for 'im, or let 'im + off easier when he makes a mistake. If I felt a bit lonely I used to + open the wicket in the gate and sit there watching the road, and p'r'aps + pass a word or two with the policeman. Then something 'appened one night + that made me take quite a dislike to it for a time. +</p> +<p> + I was sitting there with my feet outside, smoking a quiet pipe, when I + 'eard a bit of a noise in the distance. Then I 'eard people running and + shouts of "Stop, thief!" A man came along round the corner full pelt, + and, just as I got up, dashed through the wicket and ran on to the wharf. + I was arter 'im like a shot and got up to 'im just in time to see him + throw something into the dock. And at the same moment I 'eard the other + people run past the gate. +</p> +<p> + "Wot's up?" I ses, collaring 'im. +</p> +<p> + "Nothing," he ses, breathing 'ard and struggling. "Let me go." +</p> +<p> + He was a little wisp of a man, and I shook 'im like a dog shakes a rat. + I remembered my own pocket being picked, and I nearly shook the breath + out of 'im. +</p> +<p> + "And now I'm going to give you in charge," I ses, pushing 'im along + towards the gate. +</p> +<p> + "Wot for?" he ses, purtending to be surprised. +</p> +<p> + "Stealing," I ses. +</p> +<p> + "You've made a mistake," he ses; "you can search me if you like." +</p> +<p> + "More use to search the dock," I ses. "I see you throw it in. Now you + keep quiet, else you'll get 'urt. If you get five years I shall be all + the more pleased." +</p> +<p> + I don't know 'ow he did it, but 'e did. He seemed to sink away between + my legs, and afore I knew wot was 'appening, I was standing upside down + with all the blood rushing to my 'ead. As I rolled over he bolted + through the wicket, and was off like a flash of lightning. +</p> +<p> + A couple o' minutes arterwards the people wot I 'ad 'eard run past came + back agin. There was a big fat policeman with 'em—a man I'd seen afore + on the beat—and, when they 'ad gorn on, he stopped to 'ave a word with + me. +</p> +<p> + "'Ot work," he ses, taking off his 'elmet and wiping his bald 'ead with a + large red handkerchief. "I've lost all my puff." +</p> +<p> + "Been running?" I ses, very perlite. +</p> +<p> + "Arter a pickpocket," he ses. "He snatched a lady's purse just as she + was stepping aboard the French boat with her 'usband. 'Twelve pounds in + it in gold, two peppermint lozenges, and a postage stamp.'" +</p> +<p> + He shook his 'ead, and put his 'elmet on agin. +</p> +<p> + "Holding it in her little 'and as usual," he ses. "Asking for trouble, I + call it. I believe if a woman 'ad one hand off and only a finger and + thumb left on the other, she'd carry 'er purse in it." +</p> +<p> + He knew a'most as much about wimmen as I do. When 'is fust wife died, + she said 'er only wish was that she could take 'im with her, and she made + 'im promise her faithful that 'e'd never marry agin. His second wife, + arter a long illness, passed away while he was playing hymns on the + concertina to her, and 'er mother, arter looking at 'er very hard, went + to the doctor and said she wanted an inquest. +</p> +<p> + He went on talking for a long time, but I was busy doing a bit of 'ead- + work and didn't pay much attention to 'im. I was thinking o' twelve + pounds, two lozenges, and a postage stamp laying in the mud at the bottom + of my dock, and arter a time 'e said 'e see as 'ow I was waiting to get + back to my night's rest, and went off—stamping. +</p> +<p> + I locked the wicket when he 'ad gorn away, and then I went to the edge of + the dock and stood looking down at the spot where the purse 'ad been + chucked in. The tide was on the ebb, but there was still a foot or two + of water atop of the mud. I walked up and down, thinking. +</p> +<p> + I thought for a long time, and then I made up my mind. If I got the + purse and took it to the police-station, the police would share the money + out between 'em, and tell me they 'ad given it back to the lady. If I + found it and put a notice in the newspaper—which would cost money—very + likely a dozen or two ladies would come and see me and say it was theirs. + Then if I gave it to the best-looking one and the one it belonged to + turned up, there'd be trouble. My idea was to keep it—for a time—and + then if the lady who lost it came to me and asked me for it I would give + it to 'er. +</p> +<p> + Once I had made up my mind to do wot was right I felt quite 'appy, and + arter a look up and down, I stepped round to the Bear's Head and 'ad a + couple o' goes o' rum to keep the cold out. There was nobody in there + but the landlord, and 'e started at once talking about the thief, and 'ow + he 'ad run arter him in 'is shirt-sleeves. +</p> +<p> + "My opinion is," he ses, "that 'e bolted on one of the wharves and 'id + 'imself. He disappeared like magic. Was that little gate o' yours + open?" +</p> +<p> + "I was on the wharf," I ses, very cold. +</p> +<p> + "You might ha' been on the wharf and yet not 'ave seen anybody come on," + he ses, nodding. +</p> +<p> + "Wot d'ye mean?" I ses, very sharp. "Nothing," he ses. "Nothing." +</p> +<p> + "Are you trying to take my character away?" I ses, fixing 'im with my + eye. +</p> +<p> + "Lo' bless me, no!" he ses, staring at me. "It's no good to me." +</p> +<p> + He sat down in 'is chair behind the bar and went straight off to sleep + with his eyes screwed up as tight as they would go. Then 'e opened + his mouth and snored till the glasses shook. I suppose I've been one of + the best customers he ever 'ad, and that's the way he treated me. For + two pins I'd ha' knocked 'is ugly 'ead off, but arter waking him up very + sudden by dropping my glass on the floor I went off back to the wharf. +</p> +<p> + I locked up agin, and 'ad another look at the dock. The water 'ad nearly + gone and the mud was showing in patches. My mind went back to a + sailorman wot had dropped 'is watch over-board two years before, and + found it by walking about in the dock in 'is bare feet. He found it more + easy because the glass broke when he trod on it. +</p> +<p> + The evening was a trifle chilly for June, but I've been used to roughing + it all my life, especially when I was afloat, and I went into the office + and began to take my clothes off. I took off everything but my pants, + and I made sure o' them by making braces for 'em out of a bit of string. + Then I turned the gas low, and, arter slipping on my boots, went outside. +</p> +<p> + It was so cold that at fust I thought I'd give up the idea. The longer I + stood on the edge looking at the mud the colder it looked, but at last I + turned round and went slowly down the ladder. I waited a moment at the + bottom, and was just going to step off when I remembered that I 'ad got + my boots on, and I 'ad to go up agin and take 'em off. +</p> +<p> + I went down very slow the next time, and anybody who 'as been down an + iron ladder with thin, cold rungs, in their bare feet, will know why, + and I had just dipped my left foot in, when the wharf-bell rang. +</p> +<p> + I 'oped at fust that it was a runaway-ring, but it kept on, and the + longer it kept on, the worse it got. I went up that ladder agin and + called out that I was coming, and then I went into the office and just + slipped on my coat and trousers and went to the gate. +</p> +<p> + "Wot d'you want?" I ses, opening the wicket three or four inches and + looking out at a man wot was standing there. +</p> +<p> + "Are you old Bill?" he ses. +</p> +<p> + "I'm the watchman," I ses, sharp-like. "Wot d'you want?" +</p> +<p> + "Don't bite me!" he ses, purtending to draw back. "I ain't done no 'arm. + I've come round about that glass you smashed at the Bear's Head." +</p> +<p> + "Glass!" I ses, 'ardly able to speak. +</p> +<p> + "Yes, glass," he ses—"thing wot yer drink out of. The landlord says + it'll cost you a tanner, and 'e wants it now in case you pass away in + your sleep. He couldn't come 'imself cos he's got nobody to mind the + bar, so 'e sent me. Why! Halloa! Where's your boots? Ain't you afraid + o' ketching cold?" +</p> +<p> + "You clear off," I ses, shouting at him. "D'ye 'ear me? Clear off while + you're safe, and you tell the landlord that next time 'e insults me I'll + smash every glass in 'is place and then sit 'im on top of 'cm! Tell 'im + if 'e wants a tanner out o' me, to come round 'imself, and see wot he + gets." +</p> +<p> + It was a silly thing to say, and I saw it arterwards, but I was in such a + temper I 'ardly knew wot I was saying. I slammed the wicket in 'is face + and turned the key and then I took off my clothes and went down that + ladder agin. +</p> +<p> + It seemed colder than ever, and the mud when I got fairly into it was + worse than I thought it could ha' been. It stuck to me like glue, and + every step I took seemed colder than the one before. 'Owever, when I + make up my mind to do a thing, I do it. I fixed my eyes on the place + where I thought the purse was, and every time I felt anything under my + foot I reached down and picked it up—and then chucked it away as far as + I could so as not to pick it up agin. Dirty job it was, too, and in five + minutes I was mud up to the neck, a'most. And I 'ad just got to wot I + thought was the right place, and feeling about very careful, when the + bell rang agin. +</p> +<p> + I thought I should ha' gorn out o' my mind. It was just a little tinkle + at first, then another tinkle, but, as I stood there all in the dark and + cold trying to make up my mind to take no notice of it, it began to ring + like mad. I 'ad to go—I've known men climb over the gate afore now—and + I didn't want to be caught in that dock. +</p> +<p> + The mud seemed stickier than ever, but I got out at last, and, arter + scraping some of it off with a bit o' stick, I put on my coat and + trousers and boots just as I was and went to the gate, with the bell + going its 'ardest all the time. +</p> +<p> + When I opened the gate and see the landlord of the Bear's Head standing + there I turned quite dizzy, and there was a noise in my ears like the + roaring of the sea. I should think I stood there for a couple o' minutes + without being able to say a word. I could think of 'em. +</p> +<p> + "Don't be frightened, Bill," ses the landlord. "I'm not going to eat + you." +</p> +<p> + "He looks as if he's walking in 'is sleep," ses the fat policeman, wot + was standing near by. "Don't startle 'im." +</p> +<p> + "He always looks like that," ses the landlord. +</p> +<p> + I stood looking at 'im. I could speak then, but I couldn't think of any + words good enough; not with a policeman standing by with a notebook in + 'is pocket. +</p> +<p> + "Wot was you ringing my bell for?" I ses, at last. +</p> +<p> + "Why didn't you answer it before?" ses the landlord. "D'you think I've + got nothing better to do than to stand ringing your bell for three- + quarters of an hour? Some people would report you." +</p> +<p> + "I know my dooty," I ses; "there's no craft up to-night, and no reason + for anybody to come to my bell. If I was to open the gate every time a + parcel of overgrown boys rang my bell I should 'ave enough to do." +</p> +<p> + "Well, I'll overlook it this time, seeing as you're an old man and + couldn't get another sleeping-in job," he ses, looking at the policeman + for him to see 'ow clever 'e was. "Wot about that tanner? That's wot + I've come for." +</p> +<p> + "You be off," I ses, starting to shut the wicket. "You won't get no + tanner out of me." +</p> +<p> + "All right," he ses, "I shall stand here and go on ringing the bell till + you pay up, that's all." +</p> +<p> + He gave it another tug, and the policeman instead of locking 'im up for + it stood there laughing. +</p> +<p> + I gave 'im the tanner. It was no use standing there arguing over a + tanner, with a purse of twelve quid waiting for me in the dock, but I + told 'im wot people thought of 'im. +</p> +<p> + "Arf a second, watchman," ses the policeman, as I started to shut the + wicket agin. "You didn't see anything of that pickpocket, did you?" +</p> +<p> + "I did not," I ses. +</p> +<p> + "'Cos this gentleman thought he might 'ave come in here," ses the + policeman. +</p> +<p> + "'Ow could he 'ave come in here without me knowing it?" I ses, firing + up. +</p> +<p> + "Easy," ses the landlord, "and stole your boots into the bargain!" +</p> +<p> + "He might 'ave come when your back was turned," ses the policeman, "and + if so, he might be 'iding there now. I wonder whether you'd mind me + having a look round?" +</p> +<p> + "I tell you he ain't 'ere," I ses, very short, "but, to ease your mind, + I'll 'ave a look round myself arter you've gorn." +</p> +<p> + The policeman shook his 'ead. "Well, o' course, I can't come in without + your permission," he ses, with a little cough, "but I 'ave an idea, that + if it was your guv'nor 'ere instead of you he'd ha' been on'y too pleased + to do anything 'e could to help the law. I'll beg his pardon tomorrow + for asking you, in case he might object." +</p> +<p> + That settled it. That's the police all over, and that's 'ow they get + their way and do as they like. I could see 'im in my mind's eye talking + to the guv'nor, and letting out little things about broken glasses and + such-like by accident. I drew back to let 'im pass, and I was so upset + that when that little rat of a landlord follered 'im I didn't say a word. +</p> +<p> + I stood and watched them poking and prying about the wharf as if it + belonged to 'em, with the light from the policeman's lantern flashing + about all over the place. I was shivering with cold and temper. The mud + was drying on me. +</p> +<p> + "If you've finished 'unting for the pickpocket I'll let you out and get + on with my work," I ses, drawing myself up. +</p> +<p> + "Good night," ses the policeman, moving off. "Good night, dear," ses the + landlord. "Mind you tuck yourself up warm." +</p> +<p> + I lost my temper for the moment and afore I knew wot I was doing I 'ad + got hold of him and was shoving 'im towards the gate as 'ard as I could + shove. He pretty near got my coat off in the struggle, and next moment + the police-man 'ad turned his lantern on me and they was both staring at + me as if they couldn't believe their eyesight. +</p> +<p> + "He—he's turning black!" ses the landlord. +</p> +<p> + "He's turned black!" ses the policeman. +</p> +<p> + They both stood there looking at me with their mouths open, and then + afore I knew wot he was up to, the policeman came close up to me and + scratched my chest with his finger-nail. +</p> +<p> + "It's mud!" he ses. +</p> +<p> + "You keep your nails to yourself," I ses. "It's nothing to do with you." + and I couldn't 'elp noticing the smell of it. Nobody could. And wot was + worse than all was, that the tide 'ad turned and was creeping over the + mud in the dock. +</p> +<p> + They got tired of it at last and came back to where I was and stood there + shaking their 'eads at me. +</p> +<p> + "If he was on the wharf 'e must 'ave made his escape while you was in the + Bear's Head," ses the policeman. +</p> +<p> + "He was in my place a long time," ses the landlord. +</p> +<p> + "Well, it's no use crying over spilt milk," ses the policeman. "Funny + smell about 'ere, ain't there?" he ses, sniffing, and turning to the + landlord. "Wot is it?" +</p> +<p> + "I dunno," ses the landlord. "I noticed it while we was talking to 'im + at the gate. It seems to foller 'im about." +</p> +<p> + "I've smelt things I like better," ses the policeman, sniffing agin. + "It's just like the foreshore when somebody 'as been stirring the mud up + a bit." +</p> +<p> + "Unless it's a case of 'tempted suicide," he ses, looking at me very + 'ard. +</p> +<p> + "Ah!" ses the landlord. +</p> +<p> + "There's no mud on 'is clothes," ses the policeman, looking me over with + his lantern agin. +</p> +<p> + "He must 'ave gone in naked, but I should like to see 'is legs to make— + All right! All right! Keep your 'air on." +</p> +<p> + "You look arter your own legs, then," I ses, very sharp, "and mind your + own business." +</p> +<p> + "It is my business," he ses, turning to the landlord. "Was 'e strange in + his manner at all when 'e was in your place to-night?" +</p> +<p> + "He smashed one o' my best glasses," ses the landlord. +</p> +<p> + "So he did," ses the policeman. "So he did. I'd forgot that. Do you + know 'im well?" +</p> +<p> + "Not more than I can 'elp," ses the landlord. "He's been in my place a + good bit, but I never knew of any reason why 'e should try and do away + with 'imself. If he's been disappointed in love, he ain't told me + anything about it." +</p> +<p> + I suppose that couple o' fools 'ud 'ave stood there talking about me all + night if I'd ha' let 'em, but I had about enough of it. +</p> +<p> + "Look 'ere," I ses, "you're very clever, both of you, but you needn't + worry your 'eads about me. I've just been having a mud-bath, that's + all." +</p> +<p> + "A mud-bath!" ses both of 'em, squeaking like a couple o' silly parrots. +</p> +<p> + "For rheumatics," I ses. "I 'ad it some-thing cruel to-night, and I + thought that p'r'aps the mud 'ud do it good. I read about it in the + papers. There's places where you pay pounds and pounds for 'em, but, + being a pore man, I 'ad to 'ave mine on the cheap." +</p> +<p> + The policeman stood there looking at me for a moment, and then 'e began + to laugh till he couldn't stop 'imself. +</p> +<p> + "Love-a-duck!" he ses, at last, wiping his eyes. "I wish I'd seen it." +</p> +<p> + "Must ha' looked like a fat mermaid," ses the landlord, wagging his silly + 'ead at me. "I can just see old Bill sitting in the mud a-combing his + 'air and singing." +</p> +<p> + They 'ad some more talk o' that sort, just to show each other 'ow funny + they was, but they went off at last, and I fastened up the gate and went + into the office to clean myself up as well as I could. One comfort was + they 'adn't got the least idea of wot I was arter, and I 'ad a fancy that + the one as laughed last would be the one as got that twelve quid. +</p> +<p> + I was so tired that I slept nearly all day arter I 'ad got 'ome, and I + 'ad no sooner got back to the wharf in the evening than I see that the + landlord 'ad been busy. If there was one silly fool that asked me the + best way of making mud-pies, I should think there was fifty. Little + things please little minds, and the silly way some of 'em went on made me + feel sorry for my sects. +</p> +<p> + By eight o'clock, 'owever, they 'ad all sheered off, and I got a broom + and began to sweep up to 'elp pass the time away until low-water. On'y + one craft 'ad come up that day—a ketch called the Peewit—and as she was + berthed at the end of the jetty she wasn't in my way at all. +</p> +<p> + Her skipper came on to the wharf just afore ten. Fat, silly old man 'e + was, named Fogg. Always talking about 'is 'ealth and taking medicine to + do it good. He came up to me slow like, and, when 'e stopped and asked + me about the rheumatics, the broom shook in my 'and. +</p> +<p> + "Look here," I ses, "if you want to be funny, go and be funny with them + as likes it. I'm fair sick of it, so I give you warning." +</p> +<p> + "Funny?" he ses, staring at me with eyes like a cow. "Wot d'ye mean? + There's nothing funny about rheumatics; I ought to know; I'm a martyr to + it. Did you find as 'ow the mud did you any good?" +</p> +<p> + I looked at 'im hard, but 'e stood there looking at me with his fat baby- + face, and I knew he didn't mean any harm; so I answered 'im perlite and + wished 'im good night. +</p> +<p> + "I've 'ad pretty near everything a man can have," he ses, casting anchor + on a empty box, "but I think the rheumatics was about the worst of 'em + all. I even tried bees for it once." +</p> +<p> + "Bees!" I ses. "<i>Bees!</i>" +</p> +<p> + "Bee-stings," he ses. "A man told me that if I could on'y persuade a few + bees to sting me, that 'ud cure me. I don't know what 'e meant by + persuading! they didn't want no persuading. I took off my coat and shirt + and went and rocked one of my neighbour's bee-hives next door, and I + thought my last hour 'ad come." +</p> +<p> + He sat on that box and shivered at the memory of it. +</p> +<p> + "Now I take Dr. Pepper's pellets instead," he ses. "I've got a box in my + state-room, and if you'd like to try 'em you're welcome." +</p> +<p> + He sat there talking about the complaints he had 'ad and wot he 'ad done + for them till I thought I should never have got rid of 'im. He got up at + last, though, and, arter telling me to always wear flannel next to my + skin, climbed aboard and went below. +</p> +<p> + I knew the hands was aboard, and arter watching 'is cabin-skylight until + the light was out, I went and undressed. Then I crept back on to the + jetty, and arter listening by the Peewit to make sure that they was all + asleep, I went back and climbed down the ladder. +</p> +<p> + It was colder than ever. The cold seemed to get into my bones, but I + made up my mind to 'ave that twelve quid if I died for it. I trod round + and round the place where I 'ad seen that purse chucked in until I was + tired, and the rubbish I picked up by mistake you wouldn't believe. +</p> +<p> + I suppose I 'ad been in there arf an hour, and I was standing up with my + teeth clenched to keep them from chattering, when I 'appened to look + round and see something like a white ball coming down the ladder. My + 'art seemed to stand still for a moment, and then it began to beat as + though it would burst. The white thing came down lower and lower, and + then all of a sudden it stood in the mud and said, "Ow!" +</p> +<p> + "Who is it?" I ses. "Who are you?" "Halloa, Bill!" it ses. "Ain't it + perishing cold?" +</p> +<p> + It was the voice o' Cap'n Fogg, and if ever I wanted to kill a fellow- + creetur, I wanted to then. +</p> +<p> + "'Ave you been in long, Bill?" he ses. "About ten minutes," I ses, + grinding my teeth. +</p> +<p> + "Is it doing you good?" he ses. +</p> +<p> + I didn't answer 'im. +</p> +<p> + "I was just going off to sleep," he ses, "when I felt a sort of hot pain + in my left knee. O' course, I knew what it meant at once, and instead o' + taking some of the pellets I thought I'd try your remedy instead. It's a + bit nippy, but I don't mind that if it does me good." +</p> +<p> + He laughed a silly sort o' laugh, and then I'm blest if 'e didn't sit + down in that mud and waller in it. Then he'd get up and come for'ard two + or three steps and sit down agin. +</p> +<p> + "Ain't you sitting down, Bill?" he ses, arter a time. +</p> +<p> + "No," I ses, "I'm not." +</p> +<p> + "I don't think you can expect to get the full benefit unless you do," he + ses, coming up close to me and sitting down agin. "It's a bit of a shock + at fust, but Halloa!" +</p> +<p> + "Wot's up?" I ses. +</p> +<p> + "Sitting on something hard," he ses. "I wish people 'ud be more + careful." +</p> +<p> + He took a list to port and felt under the star-board side. Then he + brought his 'and up and tried to wipe the mud off and see wot he 'ad got. +</p> +<p> + "Wot is it?" I ses, with a nasty sinking sort o' feeling inside me. +</p> +<p> + "I don't know," he ses, going on wiping. "It's soft outside and 'ard + inside. It——" +</p> +<p> + "Let's 'ave a look at it," I ses, holding out my 'and. +</p> +<p> + "It's nothing," he ses, in a queer voice, getting up and steering for the + ladder. "Bit of oyster-shell, I think." +</p> +<p> + He was up that ladder hand over fist, with me close behind 'im, and as + soon as he 'ad got on to the wharf started to run to 'is ship. +</p> +<p> + "Good night, Bill," he ses, over 'is shoulder. +</p> +<p> + "Arf a moment." I ses, follering 'im. +</p> +<p> + "I must get aboard," he ses; "I believe I've got a chill," and afore I + could stop 'im he 'ad jumped on and run down to 'is cabin. +</p> +<p> + I stood on the jetty for a minute or two, trembling all over with cold + and temper. Then I saw he 'ad got a light in 'is cabin, and I crept + aboard and peeped down the skylight. And I just 'ad time to see some + sovereigns on the table, when he looked up and blew out the light. +</p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Deep Waters, The Entire Collection, by W.W. Jacobs + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DEEP WATERS, THE ENTIRE COLLECTION *** + +***** This file should be named 11482-h.htm or 11482-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.net/1/1/4/8/11482/ + +Produced by David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.net/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.net), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Each eBook is in a subdirectory of the same number as the eBook's +eBook number, often in several formats including plain vanilla ASCII, +compressed (zipped), HTML and others. + +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks replace the old file and take over +the old filename and etext number. The replaced older file is renamed. +VERSIONS based on separate sources are treated as new eBooks receiving +new filenames and etext numbers. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.net + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + +EBooks posted prior to November 2003, with eBook numbers BELOW #10000, +are filed in directories based on their release date. If you want to +download any of these eBooks directly, rather than using the regular +search system you may utilize the following addresses and just +download by the etext year. + + http://www.gutenberg.net/etext06 + + (Or /etext 05, 04, 03, 02, 01, 00, 99, + 98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 92, 92, 91 or 90) + +EBooks posted since November 2003, with etext numbers OVER #10000, are +filed in a different way. The year of a release date is no longer part +of the directory path. The path is based on the etext number (which is +identical to the filename). The path to the file is made up of single +digits corresponding to all but the last digit in the filename. For +example an eBook of filename 10234 would be found at: + + http://www.gutenberg.net/1/0/2/3/10234 + +or filename 24689 would be found at: + http://www.gutenberg.net/2/4/6/8/24689 + +An alternative method of locating eBooks: + http://www.gutenberg.net/GUTINDEX.ALL + + + + +</pre> + +</body> +</html> diff --git a/old/old/11482-h-2006-10-30/images/001.jpg b/old/old/11482-h-2006-10-30/images/001.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..f003e6a --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/11482-h-2006-10-30/images/001.jpg diff --git a/old/old/11482-h-2006-10-30/images/002.jpg b/old/old/11482-h-2006-10-30/images/002.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2327e89 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/11482-h-2006-10-30/images/002.jpg diff --git a/old/old/11482-h-2006-10-30/images/003.jpg b/old/old/11482-h-2006-10-30/images/003.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..0c9f7c2 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/11482-h-2006-10-30/images/003.jpg diff --git a/old/old/11482-h-2006-10-30/images/004.jpg b/old/old/11482-h-2006-10-30/images/004.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..3e4f3b2 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/11482-h-2006-10-30/images/004.jpg diff --git a/old/old/11482-h-2006-10-30/images/cover.jpg b/old/old/11482-h-2006-10-30/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..89580a1 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/11482-h-2006-10-30/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/old/old/11482-h-2006-10-30/images/title.jpg b/old/old/11482-h-2006-10-30/images/title.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..6f25786 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old/11482-h-2006-10-30/images/title.jpg |
