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diff --git a/old/12161-0.txt b/old/12161-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index ac7e0e4..0000000 --- a/old/12161-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,5032 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Night Watches, 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: Night Watches - -Author: W.W. Jacobs - -Release Date: October 30, 2006 [eBook #12161] -[Most recently updated: May 2, 2023] - -Language: English - -Produced by: David Widger - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NIGHT WATCHES *** - - - - - *NIGHT WATCHES* - - _By_ - - W. W. JACOBS - - - 1911 - - ―――― - - - - -CONTENTS - - - ILLUSTRATIONS - BACK TO BACK - KEEPING WATCH - THE UNDERSTUDY - THE WEAKER VESSEL - STEPPING BACKWARDS - THE THREE SISTERS - THE UNKNOWN - THE VIGIL - EASY MONEY - HIS OTHER SELF - - ―――― - - ―――― - - - - -ILLUSTRATIONS - - - “Oh, Bill!” She Gasped. “and by Daylight, Too!” - - “I'd Pretty Well Swear he Ain't the Same Dog.” - - “You—you Had Better Let Me Take Care of That.” - - “I Hope They Won't Meet 'er, Pore Thing,” he Ses. - - Mrs. Ward and Her Daughter Flung Themselves Hastily. - - I Got out at Last by Playing a Game on Her. - - - - -BACK TO BACK - - - - -Mrs. Scutts, concealed behind the curtain, gazed at the cab in uneasy -amazement. The cabman clambered down from the box and, opening the door, -stood by with his hands extended ready for any help that might be -needed. A stranger was the first to alight, and, with his back towards -Mrs. Scutts, seemed to be struggling with something in the cab. He -placed a dangling hand about his neck and, staggering under the weight, -reeled backwards supporting Mr. Scutts, whose other arm was round the -neck of a third man. In a flash Mrs. Scutts was at the door. - -Mr. Scutts raised his head sharply and his lips parted; then his head -sank again, and he became a dead weight in the grasp of his assistants. - -“He's all right,” said one of them, turning to Mrs. Scutts. - -A deep groan from Mr. Scutts confirmed the statement. - -“What is it?” inquired his wife, anxiously. - -“Just a little bit of a railway accident,” said one of the strangers. -“Train ran into some empty trucks. Nobody hurt—seriously,” he added, in -response to a terrible and annoyed groan from Mr. Scutts. - -With his feet dragging helplessly, Mr. Scutts was conveyed over his own -doorstep and placed on the sofa. - -“All the others went off home on their own legs,” said one of the -strangers, reproachfully. “He said he couldn't walk, and he wouldn't go -to a hospital.” - -“Wanted to die at home,” declared the sufferer. “I ain't going to be cut -about at no 'ospitals.” - -The two strangers stood by watching him; then they looked at each other. - -“I don't want—no—'ospitals,” gasped Mr. Scutts, “I'm going to have my -own doctor.” - -“Of course the company will pay the doctor's bill,” said one of the -strangers to Mrs. Scutts, “or they'll send their own doctor. I expect -he'll be all right to-morrow.” - -“I 'ope so,” said Mr. Scutts, “but I don't think it. Thank you for -bringing of me 'ome.” - -He closed his eyes languidly, and kept them closed until the men had -departed. - -“Can't you walk, Bill?” inquired the tearful Mrs. Scutts. - -Her husband shook his head. “You go and fetch the doctor,” he said, -slowly. “That new one round the corner.” - -“He looks such a boy,” objected Mrs. Scutts. - -“You go and fetch 'im,” said Mr. Scutts, raising his voice. “D'ye hear!” - -“But—” began his wife. - -“If I get up to you, my gal,” said the forgetful Mr. Scutts, “you'll -know it.” - -“Why, I thought—” said his wife, in surprise. - -Mr. Scutts raised himself on the sofa and shook his fist at her. Then, -as a tribute to appearances, he sank back and groaned again. Mrs. -Scutts, looking somewhat relieved, took her bonnet from a nail and -departed. - -The examination was long and tedious, but Mr. Scutts, beyond remarking -that he felt chilly, made no complaint. He endeavoured, but in vain, to -perform the tests suggested, and even did his best to stand, supported -by his medical attendant. Self-preservation is the law of Nature, and -when Mr. Scutts's legs and back gave way he saw to it that the doctor -was underneath. - -“We'll have to get you up to bed,” said the latter, rising slowly and -dusting himself. - -Mr. Scutts, who was lying full length on the floor, acquiesced, and sent -his wife for some neighbours. One of them was a professional -furniture-remover, and, half-way up the narrow stairs, the unfortunate -had to remind him that he was dealing with a British working man, and -not a piano. Four pairs of hands deposited Mr. Scutts with mathematical -precision in the centre of the bed and then proceeded to tuck him in, -while Mrs. Scutts drew the sheet in a straight line under his chin. - -“Don't look much the matter with 'im,” said one of the assistants. - -“You can't tell with a face like that,” said the furniture-remover. -“It's wot you might call a 'appy face. Why, he was 'arf smiling as we, -carried 'im up the stairs.” - -“You're a liar,” said Mr. Scutts, opening his eyes. - -“All right, mate,” said the furniture-remover; “all right. There's no -call to get annoyed about it. Good old English pluck, I call it. Where -d'you feel the pain?” - -“All over,” said Mr. Scutts, briefly. - -His neighbours regarded him with sympathetic eyes, and then, led by the -furniture-remover, filed out of the room on tip-toe. The doctor, with a -few parting instructions, also took his departure. - -“If you're not better by the morning,” he said, pausing at the door, -“you must send for your club doctor.” - -Mr. Scutts, in a feeble voice, thanked him, and lay with a twisted smile -on his face listening to his wife's vivid narrative to the little crowd -which had collected at the front door. She came back, followed by the -next-door neighbour, Mr. James Flynn, whose offers of assistance ranged -from carrying Mr. Scutts out pick-a-back when he wanted to take the air, -to filling his pipe for him and fetching his beer. - -“But I dare say you'll be up and about in a couple o' days,” he -concluded. “You wouldn't look so well if you'd got anything serious the -matter; rosy, fat cheeks and——” - -“That'll do,” said the indignant invalid. “It's my back that's hurt, not -my face.” - -“I know,” said Mr. Flynn, nodding sagely; “but if it was hurt bad your -face would be as white as that sheet-whiter.” - -“The doctor said as he was to be kep' quiet,” remarked Mrs. Scutts, -sharply. - -“Right-o,” said Mr. Flynn. “Ta-ta, old pal. Keep your pecker up, and if -you want your back rubbed with turps, or anything of that sort, just -knock on the wall.” - -He went, before Mr. Scutts could think of a reply suitable for an -invalid and, at the same time, bristling with virility. A sinful and -foolish desire to leap out of bed and help Mr. Flynn downstairs made him -more rubicund than ever. - -He sent for the club doctor next morning, and, pending his arrival, -partook of a basin of arrowroot and drank a little beef-tea. A bottle of -castor-oil and an empty pill-box on the table by the bedside added a -little local colour to the scene. - -“Any pain?” inquired the doctor, after an examination in which bony and -very cold fingers had played a prominent part. - -“Not much pain,” said Mr. Scutts. “Don't seem to have no strength in my -back.” - -“Ah!” said the doctor. - -“I tried to get up this morning to go to my work,” said Mr. Scutts, “but -I can't stand! couldn't get out of bed.” - -“Fearfully upset, he was, pore dear,” testified Mrs. Scutts. “He can't -bear losing a day. I s'pose—I s'pose the railway company will 'ave to do -something if it's serious, won't they, sir?” - -“Nothing to do with me,” said the doctor. “I'll put him on the club for -a few days; I expect he will be all right soon. He's got a healthy -colour—a very healthy colour.” - -Mr. Scutts waited until he had left the house and then made a few -remarks on the colour question that for impurity of English and strength -of diction have probably never been surpassed. - -A second visitor that day came after dinner—a tall man in a frock-coat, -bearing in his hand a silk hat, which, after a careful survey of the -room, he hung on a knob of the bedpost. - -“Mr. Scutts?” he inquired, bowing. - -“That's me,” said Mr. Scutts, in a feeble voice. - -“I've called from the railway company,” said the stranger. “We have seen -now all those who left their names and addresses on Monday afternoon, -and I am glad to say that nobody was really hurt. Nobody.” - -Mr. Scutts, in a faint voice, said he was glad to hear it. - -“Been a wonder if they had,” said the other, cheerfully. “Why, even the -paint wasn't knocked off the engine. The most serious damage appears to -be two top-hats crushed and an umbrella broken.” - -He leaned over the bed-rail and laughed joyously. Mr. Scutts, through -half-closed eyes, gazed at him in silent reproach. - -“I don't say that one or two people didn't receive a little bit of a -shock to their nerves,” said the visitor, thoughtfully. “One lady even -stayed in bed next day. However, I made it all right with them. The -company is very generous, and although of course there is no legal -obligation, they made several of them a present of a few pounds, so that -they could go away for a little change, or anything of that sort, to -quiet their nerves.” - -Mr. Scutts, who had been listening with closed eyes, opened them -languidly and said, “Oh.” - -“I gave one gentleman twen-ty pounds!” said the visitor, jingling some -coins in his trouser-pocket. “I never saw a man so pleased and grateful -in my life. When he signed the receipt for it—I always get them to sign -a receipt, so that the company can see that I haven't kept the money for -myself—he nearly wept with joy.” - -“I should think he would,” said Mr. Scutts, slowly—“if he wasn't hurt.” - -“You're the last on my list,” said the other, hastily. He produced a -slip of paper from his pocket-book and placed it on the small table, -with a fountain pen. Then, with a smile that was both tender and -playful, he plunged his hand in his pocket and poured a stream of gold -on the table. - -“What do you say to thir-ty pounds?” he said, in a hushed voice. “Thirty -golden goblins?” - -“What for?” inquired Mr. Scutts, with a notable lack of interest. - -“For—well, to go away for a day or two,” said the visitor. “I find you -in bed; it may be a cold or a bilious attack; or perhaps you had a -little upset of the nerves when the trains kissed each other.” - -“I'm in bed—because—I can't walk-or stand,” said Mr. Scutts, speaking -very distinctly. “I'm on my club, and if as 'ow I get well in a day or -two, there's no reason why the company should give me any money. I'm -pore, but I'm honest.” - -“Take my advice as a friend,” said the other; “take the money while you -can get it.” - -He nodded significantly at Mr. Scutts and closed one eye. Mr. Scutts -closed both of his. - -“I 'ad my back hurt in the collision,” he said, after a long pause. “I -'ad to be helped 'ome. So far it seems to get worse, but I 'ope for the -best.” - -“Dear me,” said the visitor; “how sad! I suppose it has been coming on -for a long time. Most of these back cases do. At least all the doctors -say so.” - -“It was done in the collision,” said Mr. Scutts, mildly but firmly. “I -was as right as rain before then.” - -The visitor shook his head and smiled. “Ah! you would have great -difficulty in proving that,” he said, softly; “in fact, speaking as man -to man, I don't mind telling you it would be impossible. I'm afraid I'm -exceeding my duty, but, as you're the last on my list, suppose—suppose -we say forty pounds. Forty! A small fortune.” - -He added some more gold to the pile on the table, and gently tapped Mr. -Scutts's arm with the end of the pen. - -“Good afternoon,” said the invalid. - -The visitor, justly concerned at his lack of intelligence, took a seat -on the edge of the bed and spoke to him as a friend and a brother, but -in vain. Mr. Scutts reminded him at last that it was medicine-time, -after which, pain and weakness permitting, he was going to try to get a -little sleep. - -“Forty pounds!” he said to his wife, after the official had departed. -“Why didn't 'e offer me a bag o' sweets?” - -“It's a lot o' money,” said Mrs. Scutts, wistfully. - -“So's a thousand,” said her husband. “I ain't going to 'ave my back -broke for nothing, I can tell you. Now, you keep that mouth o' yours -shut, and if I get it, you shall 'ave a new pair o' boots.” - -“A thousand!” exclaimed the startled Mrs. Scutts. “Have you took leave -of your senses, or what?” - -“I read a case in the paper where a man got it,” said Mr. Scutts. “He -'ad his back 'urt too, pore chap. How would you like to lay on your back -all your life for a thousand pounds?” - -“Will you 'ave to lay abed all your life?” inquired his wife, staring. - -“Wait till I get the money,” said Mr. Scutts; “then I might be able to -tell you better.” - -He gazed wistfully at the window. It was late October, but the sun shone -and the air was clear. The sound of traffic and cheerful voices ascended -from the little street. To Mr. Scutts it all seemed to be a part of a -distant past. - -“If that chap comes round to-morrow and offers me five hundred,” he -said, slowly, “I don't know as I won't take it. I'm sick of this mouldy -bed.” - -He waited expectantly next day, but nothing happened, and after a week -of bed he began to realize that the job might be a long one. The -monotony, to a man of his active habits, became almost intolerable, and -the narrated adventures of Mr. James Flynn, his only caller, filled him -with an uncontrollable longing to be up and doing. - -The fine weather went, and Mr. Scutts, in his tumbled bed, lay watching -the rain beating softly on the window-panes. Then one morning he awoke -to the darkness of a London fog. - -“It gets worse and worse,” said Mrs. Scutts, as she returned home in the -afternoon with a relish for his tea. “Can't see your 'and before your -face.” - -Mr. Scutts looked thoughtful. He ate his tea in silence, and after he -had finished lit his pipe and sat up in bed smoking. - -“Penny for your thoughts,” said his wife. - -“I'm going out,” said Mr. Scutts, in a voice that defied opposition. -“I'm going to 'ave a walk, and when I'm far enough away I'm going to -'ave one or two drinks. I believe this fog is sent a-purpose to save my -life.” - -Mrs. Scutts remonstrated, but in vain, and at half-past six the invalid, -with his cap over his eyes and a large scarf tied round the lower part -of his face, listened for a moment at his front door and then -disappeared in the fog. - -Left to herself, Mrs. Scutts returned to the bedroom and, poking the -tiny fire into a blaze, sat and pondered over the willfulness of men. - -She was awakened from a doze by a knocking at the street-door. It was -just eight o'clock, and, inwardly congratulating her husband on his -return to common sense and home, she went down and opened it. Two tall -men in silk hats entered the room. - -“Mrs. Scutts?” said one of them. - -Mrs. Scutts, in a dazed fashion, nodded. - -“We have come to see your husband,” said the intruder. “I am a doctor.” - -The panic-stricken Mrs. Scutts tried in vain to think. - -“He-he's asleep,” she said, at last. - -“Doesn't matter,” said the doctor. - -“Not a bit,” said his companion. - -“You—you can't see him,” protested Mrs. Scutts. “He ain't to be seen.” - -“He'd be sorry to miss me,” said the doctor, eyeing her keenly as she -stood on guard by the inner door. “I suppose he's at home?” - -“Of course,” said Mrs. Scutts, stammering and flushing. “Why, the pore -man can't stir from his bed.” - -“Well, I'll just peep in at the door, then,” said the doctor. “I won't -wake him. You can't object to that. If you do—” - -Mrs. Scutts's head began to swim. “I'll go up and see whether he's -awake,” she said. - -She closed the door on them and stood with her hand to her throat, -thinking. Then, instead of going upstairs, she passed into the yard and, -stepping over the fence, opened Mr. Flynn's back door. - -“Halloa!” said that gentleman, who was standing in the scullery removing -mud from his boots. “What's up?” - -In a frenzied gabble Mrs. Scutts told him. “You must be 'im,” she said, -clutching him by the coat and dragging him towards the door. “They've -never seen 'im, and they won't know the difference.” - -“But—” exclaimed the astonished James. - -“Quick!” she said, sharply. “Go into the back room and undress, then nip -into his room and get into bed. And mind, be fast asleep all the time.” - -Still holding the bewildered Mr. Flynn by the coat, she led him into the -house and waved him upstairs, and stood below listening until a slight -creaking of the bed announced that he had obeyed orders. Then she -entered the parlour. - -“He's fast asleep,” she said, softly; “and mind, I won't 'ave him -disturbed. It's the first real sleep he's 'ad for nearly a week. If you -promise not to wake 'im you may just have a peep.” - -“We won't disturb him,” said the doctor, and, followed by his companion, -noiselessly ascended the stairs and peeped into the room. Mr. Flynn was -fast asleep, and not a muscle moved as the two men approached the bed on -tip-toe and stood looking at him. The doctor turned after a minute and -led the way out of the room. - -“We'll call again,” he said, softly. - -“Yes, sir,” said Mrs. Scutts. “When?” - -The doctor and his companion exchanged glances. “I'm very busy just at -present,” he said, slowly. “We'll look in some time and take our chance -of catching him awake.” - -Mrs. Scutts bowed them out, and in some perplexity returned to Mr. -Flynn. “I don't like the look of 'em,” she said, shaking her head. -“You'd better stay in bed till Bill comes 'ome in case they come back.” - -“Right-o,” said the obliging Mr. Flynn. “Just step in and tell my -landlady I'm 'aving a chat with Bill.” - -He lit his pipe and sat up in bed smoking until a knock at the front -door at half-past eleven sent him off to sleep again. Mrs. Scutts, who -was sitting downstairs, opened it and admitted her husband. - -“All serene?” he inquired. “What are you looking like that for? What's -up?” - -He sat quivering with alarm and rage as she told him, and then, mounting -the stairs with a heavy tread, stood gazing in helpless fury at the -slumbering form of Mr. James Flynn. - -“Get out o' my bed,” he said at last, in a choking voice. - -“What, Bill!” said Mr. Flynn, opening his eyes. - -“Get out o' my bed,” repeated the other. “You've made a nice mess of it -between you. It's a fine thing if a man can't go out for 'arf a pint -without coming home and finding all the riffraff of the neighbourhood in -'is bed.” - -“'Ow's the pore back, Bill?” inquired Mr. Flynn, with tenderness. - -Mr. Scutts gurgled at him. “Outside!” he said as soon as he could get -his breath. - -“Bill,” said the voice of Mrs. Scutts, outside the door. - -“Halloa,” growled her husband. - -“He mustn't go,” said Mrs. Scutts. “Those gentlemen are coming again, -and they think he is you.” - -“WHAT!” roared the infuriated Mr. Scutts. - -“Don't you see? It's me what's got the pore back now, Bill,” said Mr. -Flynn. “You can't pass yourself off as me, Bill; you ain't good-looking -enough.” - -Mr. Scutts, past speech, raised his clenched fists to the ceiling. - -“He'll 'ave to stay in your bed,” continued the voice of Mrs. Scutts. -“He's got a good 'art, and I know he'll do it; won't you, Jim?” - -Mr. Flynn pondered. “Tell my landlady in the morning that I've took your -back room,” he said. “What a fortunit thing it is I'm out o' work. What -are you walking up and down like that for, Bill? Back coming on agin?” - -“Then o' course,” pursued the voice of Mrs. Scutts, in meditative -accents, “there's the club doctor and the other gentleman that knows -Bill. They might come at any moment. There's got to be two Bills in bed, -so that if one party comes one Bill can nip into the back room, and if -the other Bill—party, I mean—comes, the other Bill—you know what I -mean!” - -Mr. Scutts swore himself faint. - -“That's 'ow it is, mate,” said Mr. Flynn. “It's no good standing there -saying your little piece of poetry to yourself. Take off your clo'es and -get to bed like a little man. Now! now! Naughty! Naughty!” - -“P'r'aps I oughtn't to 'ave let 'em up, Bill,” said his wife; “but I was -afraid they'd smell a rat if I didn't. Besides, I was took by surprise.” - -“You get off to bed,” said Mr. Scutts. “Get off to bed while you're -safe.” - -“And get a good night's rest,” added the thoughtful Mr. Flynn. “If -Bill's back is took bad in the night I'll look after it.” - -Mr. Scutts turned a threatening face on him. “For two pins—” he began. - -“For two pins I'll go back 'ome and stay there,” said Mr. Flynn. - -He put one muscular leg out of bed, and then, at the earnest request of -Mr. Scutts, put it back again. In a few simple, manly words the latter -apologized, by putting all the blame on Mrs. Scutts, and, removing his -clothes, got into bed. - -Wrapped in bedclothes, they passed the following day listening for -knocks at the door and playing cards. By evening both men were weary, -and Mr. Scutts made a few pointed remarks concerning dodging doctors and -deceitful visitors to which Mr. Flynn listened in silent approval. - -“They mightn't come for a week,” he said, dismally. “It's all right for -you, but where do I come in? Halves?” - -Mr. Scutts had a rush of blood to the head. - -“You leave it to me, mate,” he said, controlling himself by an effort. -“If I get ten quid, say, you shall have 'arf.” - -“And suppose you get more?” demanded the other. - -“We'll see,” said Mr. Scutts, vaguely. - -Mr. Flynn returned to the charge next day, but got no satisfaction. Mr. -Scutts preferred to talk instead of the free board and lodging his -friend was getting. On the subject of such pay for such work he was -almost eloquent. - -“I'll bide my time,” said Mr. Flynn, darkly. “Treat me fair and I'll -treat you fair.” - -His imprisonment came to an end on the fourth day. There was a knock at -the door, and the sound of men's voices, followed by the hurried -appearance of Mrs. Scutts. - -“It's Jim's lot,” she said, in a hurried whisper. “I've just come up to -get the room ready.” - -Mr. Scutts took his friend by the hand, and after warmly urging him not -to forget the expert instructions he had received concerning his back, -slipped into the back room, and, a prey to forebodings, awaited the -result. - -“Well, he looks better,” said the doctor, regarding Mr. Flynn. - -“Much better,” said his companion. - -Mrs. Scutts shook her head. “His pore back don't seem no better, sir,” -she said in a low voice. “Can't you do something for it?” - -“Let me have a look at it,” said the doctor. “Undo your shirt.” - -Mr. Flynn, with slow fingers, fumbled with the button at his neck and -looked hard at Mrs. Scutts. - -“She can't bear to see me suffer,” he said, in a feeble voice, as she -left the room. - -He bore the examination with the fortitude of an early Christian martyr. -In response to inquiries he said he felt as though the mainspring of his -back had gone. - -“How long since you walked?” inquired the doctor. - -“Not since the accident,” said Mr. Flynn, firmly. - -“Try now,” said the doctor. - -Mr. Flynn smiled at him reproachfully. - -“You can't walk because you think you can't,” said the doctor; “that is -all. You'll have to be encouraged the same way that a child is. I should -like to cure you, and I think I can.” - -He took a small canvas bag from the other man and opened it. “Forty -pounds,” he said. “Would you like to count it?” - -Mr. Flynn's eyes shone. - -“It is all yours,” said the doctor, “if you can walk across the room and -take it from that gentleman's hand.” - -“Honour bright?” asked Mr. Flynn, in tremulous tones, as the other man -held up the bag and gave him an encouraging smile. - -“Honour bright,” said the doctor. - -With a spring that nearly broke the bed, Mr. Flynn quitted it and -snatched the bag, and at the same moment Mrs. Scutts, impelled by a -maddened arm, burst into the room. - -“Your back!” she moaned. “It'll kill you Get back to bed.” - -“I'm cured, lovey,” said Mr. Flynn, simply. - -“His back is as strong as ever,” said the doctor, giving it a thump. - -Mr. Flynn, who had taken his clothes from a chair and was hastily -dressing himself, assented. - -“But if you'll wait 'arf a tick I'll walk as far as the corner with -you,” he said, quickly. “I'd like to make sure it's all right.” - -He paused at the foot of the stairs and, glancing up at the palid and -murderous face of Mr. Scutts, which protruded from the back bedroom, -smiled at him rapturously. Then, with a lordly air, he tossed him five -pieces of gold. - - - - -KEEPING WATCH - - - - -Human natur'!” said the night-watchman, gazing fixedly at a pretty girl -in a passing waterman's skiff. “Human natur'!” - -He sighed, and, striking a match, applied it to his pipe and sat smoking -thoughtfully. - -“The young fellow is pretending that his arm is at the back of her by -accident,” he continued; “and she's pretending not to know that it's -there. When he's allowed to put it round 'er waist whenever he wishes, -he won't want to do it. She's artful enough to know that, and that's why -they are all so stand-offish until the thing is settled. She'll move -forward 'arf an inch presently, and 'arf a minute arterwards she'll lean -back agin without thinking. She's a nice-looking gal, and what she can -see in a tailor's dummy like that, I can't think.” - -He leaned back on his box and, folding his arms, emitted a cloud of -smoke. - -“Human natur's a funny thing. I've seen a lot of it in my time, and if I -was to 'ave my life all over agin I expect I should be just as silly as -them two in the skiff. I've known the time when I would spend money as -free over a gal as I would over myself. I on'y wish I'd got all the -money now that I've spent on peppermint lozenges. - -“That gal in the boat reminds me o' one I used to know a few years ago. -Just the same innercent baby look—a look as if butter wouldn't melt in -'er mouth—and a artful disposition that made me sorry for 'er sects. - -“She used to come up to this wharf once a week in a schooner called the -Belle. Her father, Cap'n Butt, was a widow-man, and 'e used to bring her -with 'im, partly for company and partly because 'e could keep 'is eye on -her. Nasty eye it, was, too, when he 'appened to be out o' temper. - -“I'd often took a bit o' notice o' the gal; just giving 'er a kind smile -now and then as she sat on deck, and sometimes—when 'er father wasn't -looking—she'd smile back. Once, when 'e was down below, she laughed -right out. She was afraid of 'im, and by and by I noticed that she -daren't even get off the ship and walk up and down the wharf without -asking 'im. When she went out 'e was with 'er, and, from one or two -nasty little snacks I 'appened to overhear when the skipper thought I -was too far away, I began to see that something was up. - -“It all came out one evening, and it only came out because the skipper -wanted my help. I was standing leaning on my broom to get my breath back -arter a bit o' sweeping, when he came up to me, and I knew at once, by -the nice way 'e spoke, that he wanted me to do something for 'im. - -“'Come and 'ave a pint, Bill,' he ses. - -“I put my broom agin the wall, and we walked round to the Bull's Head -like a couple o' brothers. We 'ad two pints apiece, and then he put his -'and on my shoulder and talked as man to man. - -“'I'm in a little bit o' difficulty about that gal o' mine,' he ses, -passing me his baccy-box. 'Six months ago she dropped a letter out of -'er pocket, and I'm blest if it wasn't from a young man. A young man!' - -“'You sur-prise me,' I ses, meaning to be sarcastic. - -“'I surprised her,' he ses, looking very fierce. 'I went to 'er box and -I found a pile of 'em-a pile of 'em-tied up with a piece o' pink ribbon. -And a photygraph of my lord. And of all the narrer-chested, weak-eyed, -slack-baked, spindly-legged sons of a gun you ever saw in your life, he -is the worst. If I on'y get my 'ands on him I'll choke 'im with his own -feet.' - -“He washed 'is mouth out with a drop o' beer and stood scowling at the -floor. - -“'Arter I've choked 'im I'll twist his neck,' he ses. 'If he 'ad on'y -put his address on 'is letters, I'd go round and do it now. And my -daughter, my only daughter, won't tell me where he lives.' - -“'She ought to know better,' I ses. - -“He took hold o' my 'and and shook it. 'You've got more sense than one -'ud think to look at you, Bill,' he ses, not thinking wot he was saying. -'You see wot a mess I'm in.' - -“'Yes,' I ses. - -“'I'm a nurse, that's wot I am,' he ses, very savage. 'Just a nursemaid. -I can't move 'and or foot without that gal. 'Ow'd you like it, yourself, -Bill?' - -“'It must be very orkard for you,' I ses. 'Very orkard indeed.' - -“'Orkard!' he ses; 'it's no name for it, Bill. I might as well be a -Sunday-school teacher, and ha' done with it. I never 'ad such a dull -time in all my life. Never. And the worst of it is, it's spiling my -temper. And all because o' that narrer-eyed, red-chested—you know wot I -mean!' - -“He took another mouthful o' beer, and then he took 'old of my arm. -'Bill,' he ses, very earnest, 'I want you to do me a favour.' - -“'Go ahead,' I ses. - -“'I've got to meet a pal at Charing Cross at ha'-past seven,' he ses; -'and we're going to make a night of it. I've left Winnie in charge o' -the cook, and I've told 'im plain that, if she ain't there when I come -back, I'll skin 'im alive. Now, I want you to watch 'er, too. Keep the -gate locked, and don't let anybody in you don't know. Especially that -monkey-faced imitation of a man. Here 'e is. That's his likeness.' - -“He pulled a photygraph out of 'is coatpocket and 'anded it to me. - -“'That's 'im,' he ses. 'Fancy a gal getting love-letters from a thing -like that! And she was on'y twenty last birthday. Keep your eye on 'er, -Bill, and don't let 'er out of your sight. You're worth two o' the -cook.' - -“He finished 'is beer, and, cuddling my arm, stepped back to the wharf. -Miss Butt was sitting on the cabin skylight reading a book, and old Joe, -the cook, was standing near 'er pretending to swab the decks with a mop. - -“'I've got to go out for a little while—on business,' ses the skipper. -'I don't s'pose I shall be long, and, while I'm away, Bill and the cook -will look arter you.' - -“Miss Butt wrinkled up 'er shoulders. - -“'The gate'll be locked, and you're not to leave the wharf. D'ye 'ear?' - -“The gal wriggled 'er shoulders agin and went on reading, but she gave -the cook a look out of 'er innercent baby eyes that nearly made 'im drop -the mop. - -“'Them's my orders,' ses the skipper, swelling his chest and looking -round, 'to everybody. You know wot'll 'appen to you, Joe, if things -ain't right when I come back. Come along, Bill, and lock the gate arter -me. An' mind, for your own sake, don't let anything 'appen to that gal -while I'm away.' - -“'Wot time'll you be back?' I ses, as 'e stepped through the wicket. - -“'Not afore twelve, and p'r'aps a good bit later,' he ses, smiling all -over with 'appiness. 'But young slab-chest don't know I'm out, and -Winnie thinks I'm just going out for 'arf an hour, so it'll be all -right. So long.' - -“I watched 'im up the road, and I must say I began to wish I 'adn't -taken the job on. Arter all, I 'ad on'y had two pints and a bit o' -flattery, and I knew wot 'ud 'appen if anything went wrong. Built like a -bull he was, and fond o' using his strength. I locked the wicket -careful, and, putting the key in my pocket, began to walk up and down -the wharf. - -“For about ten minutes the gal went on reading and didn't look up once. -Then, as I passed, she gave me a nice smile and shook 'er little fist at -the cook, wot 'ad got 'is back towards 'er. I smiled back, o' course, -and by and by she put her book down and climbed on to the side o' the -ship and held out her 'and for me to 'elp her ashore. - -“'I'm so tired of the ship,' she ses, in a soft voice; 'it's like a -prison. Don't you get, tired of the wharf?' - -“'Sometimes,' I ses; 'but it's my dooty.' - -“'Yes,' she ses. 'Yes, of course. But you're a big, strong man, and you -can put up with things better.' - -“She gave a little sigh, and we walked up and down for a time without -saying anything. - -“'And it's all father's foolishness,' she ses, at last; 'that's wot -makes it so tiresome. I can't help a pack of silly young men writing to -me, can I?' - -“'No, I s'pose not,' I ses. - -“'Thank you,' she ses, putting 'er little 'and on my arm. 'I knew that -you were sensible. I've often watched you when I've been sitting alone -on the schooner, longing for somebody to speak to. And I'm a good judge -of character. I can read you like a book.' - -“She turned and looked up at me. Beautiful blue eyes she'd got, with -long, curling lashes, and teeth like pearls. - -“'Father is so silly,' she ses, shaking her 'ead and looking down; 'and -it's so unreasonable, because, as a matter of fact, I don't like young -men. Oh, I beg your pardon, I didn't mean that. I didn't mean to be -rude.' - -“'Rude?' I ses, staring at her. - -“'Of course it was a rude thing for me to say,' she ses, smiling; -'because you are still a young man yourself.' - -“I shook my 'ead. 'Youngish,' I ses. - -“'Young!' she ses, stamping 'er little foot. - -“She gave me another look, and this time 'er blue eyes seemed large and -solemn. She walked along like one in a dream, and twice she tripped over -the planks and would 'ave fallen if I hadn't caught 'er round the waist. - -“'Thank you,' she ses. 'I'm very clumsy. How strong your arm is!' - -“We walked up and down agin, and every time we went near the edge of the -jetty she 'eld on to my arm for fear of stumbling agin. And there was -that silly cook standing about on the schooner on tip-toe and twisting -his silly old neck till I wonder it didn't twist off. - -“'Wot a beautiful evening it is!' she ses, at last, in a low voice. 'I -'ope father isn't coming back early. Do you know wot time he is coming -home?' - -“'About twelve,' I ses; 'but don't tell 'im I told you so.' - -“'O' course not,' she ses, squeezing my arm. 'Poor father! I hope he is -enjoying himself as much as I am.' - -“We walked down to the jetty agin arter that, and sat side by side -looking acrost the river. And she began to talk about Life, and wot a -strange thing it was; and 'ow the river would go on flowing down to the -sea thousands and thousands o' years arter we was both dead and -forgotten. If it hadn't ha' been for her little 'ead leaning agin my -shoulder I should have 'ad the creeps. - -“'Let's go down into the cabin,' she ses, at last, with a little shiver; -'it makes me melancholy sitting here and thinking of the -“might-have-beens.”' - -“I got up first and 'elped her up, and, arter both staring hard at the -cook, wot didn't seem to know 'is place, we went down into the cabin. It -was a comfortable little place, and arter she 'ad poured me out a glass -of 'er father's whisky, and filled my pipe for me, I wouldn't ha' -changed places with a king. Even when the pipe wouldn't draw I didn't -mind. - -“'May I write a letter?' she ses, at last. - -“'Sartainly,' I ses. - -“She got out her pen and ink and paper, and wrote. 'I sha'n't be long,' -she ses, looking up and nibbling 'er pen. 'It's a letter to my -dressmaker; she promised my dress by six o'clock this afternoon, and I -am just writing to tell her that if I don't have it by ten in the -morning she can keep it.' - -“'Quite right,' I ses; 'it's the on'y way to get things done.' - -“'It's my way,' she ses, sticking the letter in an envelope and licking -it down. 'Nice name, isn't it?' - -“She passed it over to me, and I read the name and address: 'Miss Minnie -Miller, 17, John Street, Mile End Road.' - -“'That'll wake her up,' She ses, smiling. 'Will you ask Joe to take it -for me?' - -“'He—he's on guard,' I ses, smiling back at 'er and shaking my 'ead. - -“'I know,' she ses, in a low voice. 'But I don't want any guard—only -you. I don't like guards that peep down skylights.' - -“I looked up just in time to see Joe's 'ead disappear. Then I nipped up, -and arter I 'ad told 'im part of wot I thought about 'im I gave 'im the -letter and told 'im to sheer off. - -“'The skipper told me to stay 'ere,' he ses, looking obstinate. - -“'You do as you're told,' I ses. 'I'm in charge, and I take full -responsibility. I shall lock the gate arter you. Wot are you worrying -about?' - -“'And here's a shilling, Joe, for a bus fare,' ses the gal, smiling. -'You can keep the change.' - -“Joe took off 'is cap and scratched 'is silly bald 'ead. - -“'Come on,' I ses; 'it's a letter to a dressmaker. A letter that must go -to-night.' - -“'Else it's no use,' ses the gal. 'You don't know 'ow important it is.' - -“'All right,' ses Joe. ''Ave it your own way. So long as you don't tell -the skipper I don't mind. If anything 'appens you'll catch it too, -Bill.' - -“He climbed ashore, and I follered 'im to the gate and unlocked it. He -was screwing up 'is eye ready for a wink, but I give 'im such a look -that he thought better of it, and, arter rubbing his eye with 'is finger -as though he 'ad got a bit o' dust in it, he went off. - -“I locked the gate and went back to the cabin, and for some time we sat -talking about fathers and the foolish ideas they got into their 'eads, -and things o' that sort. So far as I remember, I 'ad two more goes o' -whisky and one o' the skipper's cigars, and I was just thinking wot a -beautiful thing it was to be alive and 'ealthy and in good spirits, -talking to a nice gal that understood wot you said a'most afore you said -it, when I 'eard three blows on a whistle. - -“'Wot's that?' I ses, starting up. 'Police whistle?' - -“'I don't think so,' ses Miss Butt, putting her 'and on my shoulder. -'Sit down and stay where you are. I don't want you to get hurt, if it -is. Let somebody I don't like go.' - -“I sat down agin and listened, but there was no more whistling. - -“'Boy in the street, I expect,' ses the gal, going into the state-room. -'Oh, I've got something to show you. Wait a minute.' - -“I 'eard her moving about, and then she comes back into the cabin. - -“'I can't find the key of my box,' she ses, 'and it's in there. I wonder -whether you've got a key that would open it. It's a padlock.' - -“I put my 'and in my pocket and pulled out my keys. 'Shall I come and -try?' I ses. - -“'No, thank you,' she ses, taking the keys. 'This looks about the size. -What key is it?' - -“'It's the key of the gate,' I ses, 'but I don't suppose it'll fit.' - -“She went back into the state-room agin, and I 'eard her fumbling at a -lock. Then she came back into the cabin, breathing rather hard, and -stood thinking. - -“'I've just remembered,' she ses, pinching her chin. 'Yes!' - -“She stepped to the door and went up the companion-ladder, and the next -moment I 'eard a sliding noise and a key turn in a lock. I jumped to the -foot of the ladder and, 'ardly able to believe my senses, saw that the -hatch was closed. When I found that it was locked too, you might ha' -knocked me down with a feather. - -“I went down to the cabin agin, and, standing on the locker, pushed the -skylight up with my 'ead and tried to lookout. I couldn't see the gate, -but I 'eard voices and footsteps, and a little while arterwards I see -that gal coming along the wharf arm in arm with the young man she 'ad -told me she didn't like, and dancing for joy. They climbed on to the -schooner, and then they both stooped down with their hands on their -knees and looked at me. - -“'Wot is it?' ses the young man, grinning. - -“'It's a watchman,' ses the gal. 'It's here to take charge of the wharf, -you know, and see that nobody comes on.' - -“'We ought to ha' brought some buns for it,' ses the young man; 'look at -it opening its mouth.' - -“They both laughed fit to kill themselves, but I didn't move a muscle. - -“'You open the companion,' I ses, 'or it'll be the worse for you. D'ye -hear? Open it!' - -“'Oh, Alfred,' ses the gal, 'he's losing 'is temper. Wotever shall we -do?' - -“'I don't want no more nonsense,' I ses, trying to fix 'er with my eye. -'If you don't let me out it'll be the worse for you.' - -“'Don't you talk to my young lady like that,' ses the young man. - -“'Your young lady?' I ses. 'H'mm! You should ha' seen 'er 'arf an hour -ago.' - -“The gal looked at me steady for a moment. - -“'He put 'is nasty fat arm round my waist, Alfred,' she ses. - -“'Wot!' ses the young man, squeaking. 'WOT!' - -“He snatched up the mop wot that nasty, untidy cook 'ad left leaning -agin the side, and afore I 'ad any idea of wot 'e was up to he shoved -the beastly thing straight in my face. - -“'Next time,' he ses, 'I'll tear you limb from limb!' - -“I couldn't speak for a time, and when I could 'e stopped me with the -mop agin. It was like a chained lion being tormented by a monkey. I -stepped down on to the cabin floor, and then I told 'em both wot I -thought of 'em. - -“'Come along, Alfred,' ses the gal, 'else the cook'll be back before we -start.' - -“'He's all right,' ses the young man. 'Minnie's looking arter him. When -I left he'd got 'arf a bottle of whisky in front of 'im.' - -“'Still, we may as well go,' ses Miss Butt. 'It seems a shame to keep -the cab waiting.' - -“'All right,' he ses. 'I just want to give this old chump one more lick -with the mop and then we'll go.' - -“He peeped down the skylight and waited, but I kept quite quiet, with my -back towards 'im. - -“'Come along,' ses Miss Butt. - -“'I'm coming,' he ses. 'Hi! You down there! When the cap'n comes back -tell 'im that I'm taking Miss Butt to an aunt o' mine in the country. -And tell'im that in a week or two he'll 'ave the largest and nicest -piece of wedding-cake he 'as ever 'ad in his life. So long!' - -“'Good-bye, watchman,' ses the gal. - -“They moved off without another word—from them, I mean. I heard the -wicket slam and then I 'eard a cab drive off over the stones. I couldn't -believe it at first. I couldn't believe a gal with such beautiful blue -eyes could be so hard-'earted, and for a long time I stood listening and -hoping to 'ear the cab come back. Then I stepped up to the companion and -tried to shift it with my shoulders. - -“I went back to the cabin at last, and arter lighting the lamp I 'ad -another sup o' the skipper's whisky to clear my 'ead, and sat down to -try and think wot tale I was to tell 'im. I sat for pretty near three -hours without thinking of one, and then I 'eard the crew come on to the -wharf. - -“They was a bit startled when they saw my 'ead at the skylight, and then -they all started at the same time asking me wot I was doing. I told 'em -to let me out fust and then I'd tell 'em, and one of 'em 'ad just -stepped round to the companion when the skipper come on to the wharf and -stepped aboard. He stooped down and peeped at me through the skylight as -though he couldn't believe 'is eyesight, and then, arter sending the -hands for'ard and telling 'em to stay there, wotever 'appened, he -unlocked the companion and came down.” - - - - -THE UNDERSTUDY - - - - -Dogs on board ship is a nuisance,” said the night-watchman, gazing -fiercely at the vociferous mongrel that had chased him from the deck of -the Henry William; “the skipper asks me to keep an eye on the ship, and -then leaves a thing like that down in the cabin.” - -He leaned against a pile of empty casks to recover his breath, shook his -fist at the dog, and said, slowly— - -Some people can't make too much of 'em. They talk about a dog's honest -eyes and his faithful 'art. I 'ad a dog once, and I never saw his eyes -look so honest as they did one day when 'e was sitting on a pound o' -beefsteak we was 'unting high and low for. - -I've known dogs to cause a lot of trouble in my time. A man as used to -live in my street told me he 'ad been in jail three times because dogs -follered him 'ome and wouldn't go away when he told 'em to. He said that -some men would ha' kicked 'em out into the street, but he thought their -little lives was far too valuable to risk in that way. - -Some people used to wink when 'e talked like that, but I didn't: I -remembered a dog that took a fancy to old Sam Small and Ginger Dick and -Peter Russet once in just the same way. - -It was one night in a little public-'ouse down Commercial Road way. They -'ad on'y been ashore a week, and, 'aving been turned out of a music-'all -the night afore because a man Ginger Dick had punched in the jaw -wouldn't behave 'imself, they said they'd spend the rest o' their money -on beer instead. There was just the three of 'em sitting by themselves -in a cosy little bar, when the door was pushed open and a big black dog -came in. - -He came straight up to Sam and licked his 'and. Sam was eating a -arrowroot biscuit with a bit o' cheese on it at the time. He wasn't wot -you'd call a partickler sort o' man, but, seeing as 'ow the dog was so -careless that 'e licked the biscuit a'most as much as he did his 'and, -he gave it to 'im. The dog took it in one gulp, and then he jumped up on -Sam's lap and wagged his tail in 'is face for joy and thankfulness. - -“He's took a fancy to you, Sam,” ses Ginger. - -Sam pushed the dog off on to the floor and wiped his face. - -“He's a good dog, by the look of 'im,” ses Peter Russet, who was country -bred. - -He bought a sausage-roll, and him and the dog ate it between 'em. Then -Ginger Dick bought one and gave it to 'im, and by the time it was -finished the dog didn't seem to know which one of 'em he loved the most. - -“Wonder who he belongs to?” ses Ginger. “Is there any name on the -collar, Peter?” - -Peter shook his 'ead. “It's a good collar, though,” he ses. “I wonder -whether he's been and lost 'imself?” - -Old Sam, wot was always on the look-out for money, put his beer down and -wiped 'is mouth. “There might be a reward out for 'im,” he ses. “I think -I'll take care of 'im for a day or two, in case.” - -“We'll all take care of 'im,” ses Ginger; “and if there's a reward we'll -go shares. Mind that!” - -“I found 'im,” ses Sam, very disagreeable. “He came up to me as if he'd -known me all 'is life.” - -“No,” ses Ginger. “Don't you flatter yourself. He came up to you because -he didn't know you, Sam.” - -“If he 'ad, he'd ha' bit your 'and,” ses Peter Russet. - -“Instead o' washing it,” ses Ginger. - -“Go on!” ses Sam, 'olding his breath with passion. “Go on!” - -Peter opened 'is mouth, but just then another man came into the bar, -and, arter ordering 'is drink, turned round and patted the dog's 'ead. - -“That's a good dog; 'ow old is he?” he ses to Ginger. - -“Two years last April,” ses Ginger, without moving a eyelid. - -“Fifth of April,” ses old Sam, very quick and fierce. - -“At two o'clock in the morning,” ses Peter. - -The man took up 'is beer and looked at 'em; then 'e took a drink and -looked at 'em again. Arter which he 'ad another look at the dog. - -“I could see 'e was very valuable,” he ses. “I see that the moment I set -eyes on 'im. Mind you don't get 'im stole.” - -He finished up 'is beer and went out; and he 'ad 'ardly gone afore -Ginger took a piece o' thick string out of 'is pocket and fastened it to -the dog's collar. - -“Make yourself at 'ome, Ginger,” ses Sam, very nasty. - -“I'm going to,” ses Ginger. “That chap knows something about dogs, and, -if we can't get a reward for 'im, p'r'aps we can sell 'im.” - -They 'ad another arf-pint each, and then, Ginger taking 'old of the -string, they went out into the street. - -“Nine o'clock,” ses Peter. “It's no good going 'ome yet, Ginger.” - -“We can 'ave a glass or two on the way,” ses Ginger; “but I sha'n't feel -comfortable in my mind till we've got the dog safe 'ome. P'r'aps the -people wot 'ave lost it are looking for it now.” - -They 'ad another drink farther on, and a man in the bar took such a -fancy to the dog that 'e offered Ginger five shillings for it and drinks -round. - -“That shows 'ow valuable it is,” ses Peter Russet when they got outside. -“Hold that string tight, Ginger. Wot's the matter?” - -“He won't come,” ses Ginger, tugging at the string. “Come on, old chap! -Good dog! Come on!” - -He stood there pulling at the dog, wot was sitting down and being -dragged along on its stummick. He didn't know its name, but 'e called it -a few things that seemed to ease 'is mind, and then he 'anded over the -string to Sam, wot 'ad been asking for it, and told 'im to see wot he -could do. - -“We shall 'ave a crowd round us in a minute,” ses Peter. “Mind you don't -bust a blood-vessel, Sam.” - -“And be locked up for stealing it, p'r'aps,” ses Ginger. “Better let it -go, Sam.” - -“Wot, arter refusing five bob for it?” ses Sam. “Talk sense, Ginger, and -give it a shove be'ind.” - -Ginger gave it a shove, but it was no good. There was three or four -people coming along the road, and Sam made up 'is mind in an instant, -and 'eld up his 'and to a cab that was passing. - -It took the three of 'em to get the dog into the cab, and as soon as it -was in the cabman told 'em to take it out agin. They argufied with 'im -till their tongues ached, and at last, arter paying 'im four shillings -and sixpence afore they started, he climbed up on the box and drove off. - -The door was open when they got to their lodgings, but they 'ad to be -careful because o' the landlady. It took the three of 'em to pull and -push that dog upstairs, and Ginger took a dislike to dogs that 'e never -really got over. They got 'im in the bedroom at last, and, arter they -'ad given 'im a drink o' water out o' the wash-hand basin, Ginger and -Peter started to find fault with Sam Small. - -“I know wot I'm about,” ses Sam; “but, o' course, if you don't want your -share, say so. Wot?” - -“Talk sense!” ses Ginger. “We paid our share o' the cab, didn't we? And -more fools us.” - -“There won't be no share,” ses Peter Russet; “but if there is, we're -going to'ave it.” - -They undressed themselves and got into bed, and Ginger 'adn't been in -his five minutes afore the dog started to get in with 'im. When Ginger -pushed 'im off 'e seemed to think he was having a game with 'im, and, -arter pretending to bite 'im in play, he took the end of the counterpane -in 'is mouth and tried to drag it off. - -“Why don't you get to sleep, Ginger?” ses Sam, who was just dropping -off. “'Ave a game with 'im in the morning.” - -Ginger gave the dog a punch in the chest, and, arter saying a few o' the -things he'd like to do to Sam Small, he cuddled down in 'is bed and they -all went off to sleep. All but the dog, that is. He seemed uneasy in 'is -mind, and if 'e woke 'em up once by standing on his 'ind-legs and -putting his fore-paws on their chest to see if they was still alive, he -did arf-a-dozen times. - -He dropped off to sleep at last, scratching 'imself, but about three -o'clock in the morning Ginger woke up with a 'orrible start and sat up -in bed shivering. Sam and Peter woke up, too, and, raising themselves in -bed, looked at the dog, wot was sitting on its tail, with its 'ead back, -moaning fit to break its 'art. - -“Wot's the matter?” ses old Sam, in a shaky voice. “Stop it! Stop it, -d'ye hear!” - -“P'r'aps it's dying,” ses Ginger, as the dog let off a 'owl like a -steamer coming up the river. “Stop it, you brute!” - -“He'll wake the 'ouse up in a minute,” ses Peter. “Take 'im downstairs -and kick 'im into the street, Sam.” - -“Take 'im yourself,” ses Sam. “Hsh! Somebody's coming upstairs. Poor old -doggie. Come along, then. Come along.” - -The dog left off his 'owling, and went over and licked 'im just as the -landlady and one or two more came to the door and called out to know wot -they meant by it. - -“It's all right, missis,” ses Sam. “It's on'y pore Ginger. You keep -quiet,” he ses in a whisper, turning to Ginger. - -“Wot's he making that row about?” ses the landlady. “He made my blood -run cold.” - -“He's got a touch o' toothache,” ses Sam. “Never mind, Ginger,” 'e ses -in a hurry, as the dog let off another 'owl; “try and bear it.” - -“He's a coward, that's wot 'e is,” ses the landlady, very fierce. “Why, -a child o' five wouldn't make such a fuss.” - -“Sounds more like a dog than a 'uman being,” ses another voice. “You -come outside, Ginger, and I'll give you something to cry for.” - -They waited a minute or two, and then, everything being quiet, they went -back to bed, while old Sam talked to Ginger about wot 'e called 'is -“presence o' mind,” and Ginger talked to 'im about wot he'd do to 'im if -'e wasn't a fat old man with one foot in the grave. - -They was all in a better temper when they woke up in the morning, and -while Sam was washing they talked about wot they was to do with the dog. - -“We can't lead 'im about all day,” ses Ginger; “and if we let 'im off -the string he'll go off 'ome.” - -“He don't know where his 'ome is,” ses Sam, very severe; “but he might -run away, and then the pore thing might be starved or else ill-treated. -I 'ave 'eard o' boys tying tin cans to their tails.” - -“I've done it myself,” ses Ginger, nodding. “Consequently it's our dooty -to look arter 'im,” ses Sam. - -“I'll go down to the front door,” ses Peter, “and when I whistle, bring -him down.” - -Ginger stuck his 'ead out o' the window, and by and by, when Peter -whistled, him and Sam took the dog downstairs and out into the street. - -“So far so good,” ses Sam; “now, wot about brekfuss?” - -They 'ad their brekfuss in their usual coffeeshop, and the dog took bits -from all of them. Unfortunately, 'e wasn't used to haddick bones, and -arter two of the customers 'ad gorn out and two more 'ad complained to -the landlord, they 'ad to leave their brekfusses and take 'im outside -for a breath o' fresh air. - -“Now, wot are we going to do?” ses Ginger. “I'm beginning to be sick of -the sight of 'im. 'Ave we got to lead 'im about all day on a bit o' -string?” - -“Let's take 'im round the corner and lose 'im,” ses Peter Russet. - -“You give me 'old o' that string,” ses Sam. “If you don't want shares, -that's all right. If I'm going to look arter 'im I'll 'ave it all.” - -That made Ginger and Peter look at each other. Direckly Sam began to -talk about money they began to think they might be losing something. - -“And wot about 'aving 'im in our bedroom and keeping us awake all -night?” ses Peter. - -“And putting it on to me with the toothache,” ses Ginger. “No; you can -look arter 'im, Sam, while me and Peter goes off and enjoys ourselves; -and if you get anything we go shares, mind.” - -“All right,” ses Sam, turning away with the dog. - -“And suppose Sam gets a reward or sells it, and then tells us that it -ran away and 'e lost it?” ses Peter. - -“O' course; I never thought o' that,” ses Ginger. “You've got your 'ead -on straight, Peter.” - -“I see 'im smile, that's why,” ses Peter Russet. - -“You're a liar,” ses Sam. - -“We'll stick together,” ses Ginger. “Leastways, one of us'll keep with -you, Sam.” - -They settled it that way at last, and while Ginger went for a walk down -round about where they 'ad found the dog, Sam Small and Peter waited for -him in a little public-'ouse down Limehouse way. Their idea was that -there would be bills up, and when Ginger came back and said there -wasn't, they 'ad a lot to say about people wot wasn't fit to 'ave dogs -because they didn't love 'em. - -They 'ad a miserable day. When the dog got sick o' sitting in a pub 'e -made such a noise they 'ad to take 'im out; and when 'e got tired o' -walking about he sat down on the pavement and they 'ad to drag 'im along -to the nearest pub agin. At five o'clock in the arternoon Ginger Dick -was talking about two-penn'orth o' rat-poison. - -“Wot are we to do with 'im till twelve o'clock to-night?” ses Peter. - -“And s'pose we can't smuggle 'im into the 'ouse agin?” ses Ginger. “Or -suppose he makes that noise agin in the night?” - -They 'ad a pint each to 'elp them to think wot was to be done. And, -arter a lot o' talking and quarrelling, they did wot a lot of other -people 'ave done when they got into trouble: they came to me. - -I 'ad on'y been on dooty about arf an hour when the three of 'em turned -up at the wharf with the dog, and, arter saying 'ow well I looked and -that I seemed to get younger every time they saw me, they asked me to -take charge of the dog for 'em. - -“It'll be company for you,” ses old Sam. “It must be very lonely 'ere of -a night. I've often thought of it.” - -“And of a day-time you could take it 'ome and tie it up in your -back-yard,” ses Ginger. - -I wouldn't 'ave anything to do with it at fust, but at last I gave way. -They offered me fourpence a day for its keep, and, as I didn't want to -run any risk, I made 'em give me a couple o' bob to go on with. - -They went off as though they'd left a load o' care be'ind 'em, and arter -tying the dog up to a crane I went on with my work. They 'adn't told me -wot the game was, but, from one or two things they'd let drop, I'd got a -pretty good idea. - -The dog 'owled a bit at fust, but he quieted down arter a bit. He was a -nice-looking animal, but one dog is much the same as another to me, and -if I 'ad one ten years I don't suppose I could pick it out from two or -three others. - -I took it off 'ome with me when I left at six o'clock next morning, and -tied it up in my yard. My missis 'ad words about it, o' course—that's -wot people get married for—but when she found it woke me up three times -she quieted down and said wot a nice coat it 'ad got. - -The three of 'em came round next evening to see it, and they was so -afraid of its being lost that when they stood me a pint at the Bull's -Head we 'ad to take it with us. Ginger was going to buy a sausage-roll -for it, but, arter Sam 'ad pointed out that they was paying me fourpence -a day for its keep, he didn't. And Sam 'ad the cheek to tell me that it -liked a nice bit o' fried steak as well as anything. - -A lot o' people admired that dog. I remember, on the fourth night I -think it was, the barge Dauntless came alongside, and arter she was made -fast the skipper came ashore and took a little notice of it. - -“Where did you get 'im?” he ses. - -I told 'im 'ow it was, and he stood there for some time patting the dog -on the 'ead and whistling under 'is breath. - -“It's much the same size as my dog,” he ses; “that's a black retriever, -too.” - -I ses “Oh!” - -“I'm afraid I shall 'ave to get rid of it,” he ses. “It's on the barge -now. My missis won't 'ave it in the 'ouse any more cos it bit the baby. -And o' course it was no good p'inting out to 'er that it was its first -bite. Even the law allows one bite, but it's no good talking about the -law to wimmen.” - -“Except when it's on their side,” I ses. - -He patted the dog's 'ead agin and whistled, and a big black dog came up -out of the cabin and sprang ashore. It went up and put its nose to Sam's -dog, and they both growled like thunderstorms. - -“Might be brothers,” ses the skipper, “on'y your dog's got a better -'eead and a better coat. It's a good dog.” - -“They're all alike to me,” I ses. “I couldn't tell 'em apart, not if you -paid me.” - -The skipper stood there a moment, and then he ses: “I wish you'd let me -see 'ow my dog looks in your dog's collar,” he ses. - -“Whaffor?” I ses. - -“On'y fancy,” he ses. “Oh, Bill!” - -“Yes,” I ses. - -“It ain't Christmas,” he ses, taking my arm and walking up and down a -bit, “but it will be soon, and then I mightn't see you. You've done me -one or two good turns, and I should like to make you a Christmas-box of -three 'arf-dollars.” - -I let 'im give 'em to me, and then, just to please 'im, I let 'im try -the collar on 'is dog, while I swept up a bit. - -“It looked beautiful on 'im,” he ses, when I'd finished; “but I've put -it back agin. Come on, Bruno. Good-night, Bill.” - -He got 'is dog on the barge agin arter a bit o' trouble, and arter -making sure 'that my dog 'ad got its own collar on I went on with my -work. - -The dog didn't seem to be quite 'imself next day, and he was so fierce -in the yard that my missis was afraid to go near 'im. I was going to ask -the skipper about it, as 'e seemed to know more about dogs than I did, -but when I got to the wharf the barge had sailed. - -It was just getting dark when there came a ring at the gate-bell, and -afore I could answer it arf-a-dozen more, as fast as the bell could go. -And when I opened the wicket Sam Small and Ginger and Peter Russet all -tried to get in at once. - -“Where's the dog?” ses Sam. - -“Tied up,” I ses. “Wot's the matter? 'Ave you all gorn mad?” - -They didn't answer me. They ran on to the jetty, and afore I could turn -round a'most they 'ad got the dog loose and was dragging it towards me, -smiling all over their faces. - -“Reward,” ses Ginger, as I caught 'old of 'im by the coat. “Five pounds -—landlord of a pub—at Bow—come on, Sam!” - -“Why don't you keep your mouth shut, Ginger?” ses Sam. - -“Five pounds!” I ses. “Five pounds! Hurrah!” - -“Wot are you hurraying about?” ses Sam, very short. - -“Why,” I ses, “I s'pose——Here, arf a moment!” - -“Can't stop,” ses Sam, going arter the others. - -I watched 'em up the road, and then I locked the gate and walked up and -down the wharf thinking wot a funny thing money is, and 'ow it alters -people's natures. And arter all, I thought that three arf-dollars earned -honest was better than a reward for hiding another man's dog. - -I finished tidying up, and at nine o'clock I went into the office for a -quiet smoke. I couldn't 'elp wondering 'ow them three 'ad got on, and -just as I was thinking about it there came the worst ringing at the -gate-bell I 'ave ever 'eard in my life, and the noise of heavy boots -kicking the gate. It was so violent I 'ardly liked to go at fust, -thinking it might be bad news, but I opened it at last, and in bust Sam -Small, with Ginger and Peter. - -For five minutes they all talked at once, with their nasty fists 'eld -under my nose. I couldn't make lead or tail of it at fust, and then I -found as 'ow they 'ad got the dog back with them, and that the landlord -'ad said 'e wasn't the one. - -“But 'e said as he thought the collar was his,” ses Sam. “'Ow do you -account for that?” - -“P'r'aps he made a mistake,” I ses; “or p'r'aps he thought you'd turn -the dog adrift and he'd get it back for nothing. You know wot landlords -are. Try 'im agin.” - -“You take 'im back to-morrow night,” I ses. “It's a nice walk to Bow. -And then come back and beg my pardon. I want to 'ave a word with this -policeman here. Goodnight.” - - - - -THE WEAKER VESSEL - - - - -Mr. Gribble sat in his small front parlour in a state of angry -amazement. It was half-past six and there was no Mrs. Gribble; worse -still, there was no tea. It was a state of things that had only happened -once before. That was three weeks after marriage, and on that occasion -Mr. Gribble had put his foot down with a bang that had echoed down the -corridors of thirty years. - -The fire in the little kitchen was out, and the untidy remains of Mrs. -Gribble's midday meal still disgraced the table. More and more dazed, -the indignant husband could only come to the conclusion that she had -gone out and been run over. Other things might possibly account for her -behaviour; that was the only one that would excuse it. - -His meditations were interrupted by the sound of a key in the front -door, and a second later a small, anxious figure entered the room and, -leaning against the table, strove to get its breath. The process was not -helped by the alarming distension of Mr. Gribble's figure. - -“I—I got home—quick as I could—Henry,” said Mrs. Gribble, panting. - -“Where is my tea?” demanded her husband. “What do you mean by it? The -fire's out and the kitchen is just as you left it.” - -“I—I've been to a lawyer's, Henry,” said Mrs. Gribble, “and I had to -wait.” - -“Lawyer's?” repeated her husband. - -“I got a letter this afternoon telling me to call. Poor Uncle George, -that went to America, is gone.” - -“That is no excuse for neglecting me,” said Mr. Gribble. “Of course -people die when they are old. Is that the one that got on and made -money?” - -His wife, apparently struggling to repress a little excitement, nodded. -“He—he's left me two hundred pounds a year for life, Henry,” she said, -dabbing at her pale blue eyes with a handkerchief. “They're going to pay -it monthly; sixteen pounds thirteen shillings and fourpence a month. -That's how he left it.” - -“Two hund—” began Mr. Gribble, forgetting himself. “Two hun——Go and get -my tea! If you think you're going to give yourself airs because your -uncle's left you money, you won't do it in my house.” - -He took a chair by the window, and, while his wife busied herself in the -kitchen, sat gazing in blank delight at the little street. Two hundred a -year! It was all he could do to resume his wonted expression as his wife -re-entered the room and began to lay the table. His manner, however, -when she let a cup and saucer slip from her trembling fingers to smash -on the floor left nothing to be desired. - -“It's nice to have money come to us in our old age,” said Mrs. Gribble, -timidly, as they sat at tea. “It takes a load off my mind.” - -“Old age!” said her husband, disagreeably. “What d'ye mean by old age? -I'm fifty-two, and feel as young as ever I did.” - -“You look as young as ever you did,” said the docile Mrs. Gribble. “I -can't see no change in you. At least, not to speak of.” - -“Not so much talk,” said her husband. “When I want your opinion of my -looks I'll ask you for it. When do you start getting this money?” - -“Tuesday week; first of May,” replied his wife. “The lawyers are going -to send it by registered letter.” - -Mr. Gribble grunted. - -“I shall be sorry to leave the house for some things,” said his wife, -looking round. “We've been here a good many years now, Henry.” - -“Leave the house!” repeated Mr. Gribble, putting down his tea-cup and -staring at her. - -“Leave the house! What are you talking about?” - -“But we can't stay here, Henry,” faltered Mrs. Gribble. “Not with all -that money. They are building some beautiful houses in Charlton Grove -now—bathroom, tiled hearths, and beautiful stained glass in the front -door; and all for twenty-eight pounds a year.” - -“Wonderful!” said the other, with a mocking glint in his eye. - -“And iron palings to the front garden, painted chocolate-colour picked -out with blue,” continued his wife, eyeing him wistfully. - -Mr. Gribble struck the table a blow with his fist. “This house is good -enough for me,” he roared; “and what's good enough for me is good enough -for you. You want to waste money on show; that's what you want. Stained -glass and bow-windows! You want a bow-window to loll about in, do you? -Shouldn't wonder if you don't want a servant-gal to do the work.” - -Mrs. Gribble flushed guiltily, and caught her breath. - -“We're going to live as we've always lived,” pursued Mr. Gribble. “Money -ain't going to spoil me. I ain't going to put on no side just because -I've come in for a little bit. If you had your way we should end up in -the workhouse.” - -He filled his pipe and smoked thoughtfully, while Mrs. Gribble cleared -away the tea-things and washed up. Pictures, good to look upon, formed -in the smoke-pictures of a hale, hearty man walking along the primrose -path arm-in-arm with two hundred a year; of the mahogany and plush of -the saloon bar at the Grafton Arms; of Sunday jaunts, and the Oval on -summer afternoons. - -He ate his breakfast slowly on the first of the month, and, the meal -finished, took a seat in the window with his pipe and waited for the -postman. Mrs. Gribble's timid reminders concerning the flight of time -and consequent fines for lateness at work fell on deaf ears. He jumped -up suddenly and met the postman at the door. - -“Has it come?” inquired Mrs. Gribble, extending her hand. - -By way of reply her husband tore open the envelope and, handing her the -covering letter, counted the notes and coin and placed them slowly in -his pockets. Then, as Mrs. Gribble looked at him, he looked at the -clock, and, snatching up his hat, set off down the road. - -He was late home that evening, and his manner forbade conversation. Mrs. -Gribble, with the bereaved air of one who has sustained an irremediable -loss, sighed fitfully, and once applied her handkerchief to her eyes. - -“That's no good,” said her husband at last; “that won't bring him back.” - -“Bring who back?” inquired Mrs. Gribble, in genuine surprise. - -“Why, your Uncle George,” said Mr. Gribble. “That's what you're turning -on the water-cart for, ain't it?” - -“I wasn't thinking of him,” said Mrs. Gribble, trying to speak bravely. -“I was thinking of——” - -“Well, you ought to be,” interrupted her husband. “He wasn't my uncle, -poor chap, but I've been thinking of him, off and on, all day. That -bloater-paste you are eating now came from his kindness. I brought it -home as a treat.” - -“I was thinking of my clothes,” said Mrs. Gribble, clenching her hands -together under the table. “When I found I had come in for that money, -the first thing I thought was that I should be able to have a decent -dress. My old ones are quite worn out, and as for my hat and jacket—” - -“Go on,” said her husband, fiercely. “Go on. That's just what I said: -trust you with money, and we should be poorer than ever.” - -“I'm ashamed to be seen out,” said Mrs. Gribble. - -“A woman's place is the home,” said Mr. Gribble; “and so long as I'm -satisfied with your appearance nobody else matters. So long as I am -pleased, that's everything. What do you want to go dressing yourself up -for? Nothing looks worse than an over-dressed woman.” - -“What are we going to do with all that money, then?” inquired Mrs. -Gribble, in trembling tones. - -“That'll do,” said Mr. Gribble, decidedly. “That'll do. One o' these -days you'll go too far. You start throwing that money in my teeth and -see what happens. I've done my best for you all these years, and there's -no reason to suppose I sha'n't go on doing so. What did you say? What!” - -Mrs. Gribble turned to him a face rendered ghastly by terror. “I—I -said—it was my money,” she stammered. - -Mr. Gribble rose, and stood for a full minute regarding her. Then, -kicking a chair out of his way, he took his hat from its peg in the -passage and, with a bang of the street-door that sent a current of -fresh, sweet air circulating through the house, strode off to the -Grafton Arms. - -It was past eleven when he returned, but even the spectacle of his wife -laboriously darning her old dress failed to reduce his good-humour in -the slightest degree. In a frivolous mood he even took a feather from -the dismembered hat on the table and stuck it in his hair. He took the -stump of a strong cigar from his lips and, exhaling a final cloud of -smoke, tossed it into the fireplace. - -“Uncle George dead,” he said, at last, shaking his head. “Hadn't -pleasure acquaintance, but good man. Good man.” - -He shook his head again and gazed mistily at his wife. - -“He was a teetotaller,” she remarked, casually. - -“He was tee-toiler,” repeated Mr. Gribble, regarding her equably. “Good -man. Uncle George dead-tee-toller.” - -Mrs. Gribble gathered up her work and began to put it away. - -“Bed-time,” said Mr. Gribble, and led the way upstairs, singing. - -His good-humour had evaporated by the morning, and, having made a light -breakfast of five cups of tea, he went off, with lagging steps, to work. -It was a beautiful spring morning, and the idea of a man with two -hundred a year and a headache going off to a warehouse instead of a -day's outing seemed to border upon the absurd. What use was money -without freedom? His toil was sweetened that day by the knowledge that -he could drop it any time he liked and walk out, a free man, into the -sunlight. - -By the end of a week his mind was made up. Each day that passed made his -hurried uprising and scrambled breakfast more and more irksome; and on -Monday morning, with hands in trouser-pockets and legs stretched out, he -leaned back in his chair and received his wife's alarming intimations as -to the flight of time with a superior and sphinx-like smile. - -“It's too fine to go to work to-day,” he said, lazily. “Come to that, -any day is too fine to waste at work.” - -Mrs. Gribble sat gasping at him. - -“So on Saturday I gave 'em a week's notice,” continued her husband, “and -after Potts and Co. had listened while I told 'em what I thought of 'em, -they said they'd do without the week's notice.” - -“You've never given up your job?” said Mrs. Gribble. - -“I spoke to old Potts as one gentleman of independent means to another,” -said Mr. Gribble, smiling. “Thirty-five bob a week after twenty years' -service! And he had the cheek to tell me I wasn't worth that. When I -told him what he was worth he talked about sending for the police. What -are you looking like that for? I've worked hard for you for thirty -years, and I've had enough of it. Now it's your turn.” - -“You'd find it hard to get another place at your age,” said his wife; -“especially if they wouldn't give you a good character.” - -“Place!” said the other, staring. “Place! I tell you I've done with -work. For a man o' my means to go on working for thirty-five bob a week -is ridiculous.” - -“But suppose anything happened to me,” said his wife, in a troubled -voice. - -“That's not very likely,” said Mr. Gribble. - -“You're tough enough. And if it did your money would come to me.” - -Mrs. Gribble shook her head. - -“WHAT?” roared her husband, jumping up. - -“I've only got it for life, Henry, as I told you,” said Mrs. Gribble, in -alarm. “I thought you knew it would stop when I died.” - -“And what's to become of me if anything happens to you, then?” demanded -the dismayed Mr. Gribble. “What am I to do?” - -Mrs. Gribble put her handkerchief to her eyes. - -“And don't start weakening your constitution by crying,” shouted the -incensed husband. - -“What are you mumbling?” - -“I sa—sa—said, let's hope—you'll go first,” sobbed his wife. “Then it -will be all right.” - -Mr. Gribble opened his mouth, and then, realizing the inadequacy of the -English language for moments of stress, closed it again. He broke his -silence at last in favour of Uncle George. - -“Mind you,” he said, concluding a peroration which his wife listened to -with her fingers in her ears—“mind you, I reckon I've been absolutely -done by you and your precious Uncle George. I've given up a good -situation, and now, any time you fancy to go off the hooks, I'm to be -turned into the street.” - -“I'll try and live, for your sake, Henry,” said his wife. - -“Think of my worry every time you are ill,” pursued the indignant Mr. -Gribble. - -Mrs. Gribble sighed, and her husband, after a few further remarks -concerning Uncle George, his past and his future, announced his -intention of going to the lawyers and seeing whether anything could be -done. He came back in a state of voiceless gloom, and spent the rest of -a beautiful day indoors, smoking a pipe which had lost much of its -flavour, and regarding with a critical and anxious eye the small, weedy -figure of his wife as she went about her work. - -The second month's payment went into his pocket as a matter of course, -but on this occasion Mrs. Gribble made no requests for new clothes or -change of residence. A little nervous cough was her sole comment. - -“Got a cold?” inquired her husband, starting. - -“I don't think so,” replied his wife, and, surprised and touched at this -unusual display of interest, coughed again. - -“Is it your throat or your chest?” he inquired, gruffly. - -Mrs. Gribble coughed again to see. After five coughs she said she -thought it was her chest. - -“You'd better not go out o' doors to-day, then,” said Mr. Gribble. -“Don't stand about in draughts; and I'll fetch you in a bottle of cough -mixture when I go out. What about a lay-down on the sofa?” - -His wife thanked him, and, reaching the sofa, watched with half-closed -eyes as he cleared the breakfast-table. It was the first time he had -done such a thing in his life, and a little honest pride in the -possession of such a cough would not be denied. Dim possibilities of its -vast usefulness suddenly occurred to her. - -She took the cough mixture for a week, by which time other symptoms, -extremely disquieting to an ease-loving man, had manifested themselves. -Going upstairs deprived her of breath; carrying a loaded tea-tray -produced a long and alarming stitch in the side. The last time she ever -filled the coal-scuttle she was discovered sitting beside it on the -floor in a state of collapse. - -“You'd better go and see the doctor,” said Mr. Gribble. - -Mrs. Gribble went. Years before the doctor had told her that she ought -to take life easier, and she was now able to tell him she was prepared -to take his advice. - -“And, you see, I must take care of myself now for the sake of my -husband,” she said, after she had explained matters. - -“I understand,” said the doctor. - -“If anything happened to me—” began the patient. - -“Nothing shall happen,” said the other. “Stay in bed to-morrow morning, -and I'll come round and overhaul you.” - -Mrs. Gribble hesitated. “You might examine me and think I was all -right,” she objected; “and at the same time you wouldn't know how I -feel.” - -“I know just how you feel,” was the reply. “Good-bye.” - -He came round the following morning and, following the dejected Mr. -Gribble upstairs, made a long and thorough investigation of his patient. - -“Say 'ninety-nine,'” he said, adjusting his stethoscope. - -Mrs. Gribble ticked off “ninety-nines” until her husband's ears ached -with them. The doctor finished at last, and, fastening his bag, stood -with his beard in his hand, pondering. He looked from the little, -whitefaced woman on the bed to the bulky figure of Mr. Gribble. - -“You had better lie up for a week,” he said, decidedly. “The rest will -do you good.” - -“Nothing serious, I s'pose?” said Mr. Gribble, as he led the way -downstairs to the small parlour. - -“She ought to be all right with care,” was the reply. - -“Care?” repeated the other, distastefully. “What's the matter with her?” - -“She's not very strong,” said the doctor; “and hearts don't improve with -age, you know. Under favourable conditions she's good for some years -yet. The great thing is never to thwart her. Let her have her own way in -everything.” - -“Own way in everything?” repeated the dumbfounded Mr. Gribble. - -The doctor nodded. “Never let her worry about anything,” he continued; -“and, above all, never find fault with her.” - -“Not,” said Mr. Gribble, thickly—“not even for her own good?” - -“Unless you want to run the risk of losing her.” - -Mr. Gribble shivered. - -“Let her have an easy time,” said the doctor, taking up his hat. “Pamper -her a bit if you like; it won't hurt her. Above all, don't let that -heart of hers get excited.” - -He shook hands with the petrified Mr. Gribble and went off, grinning -wickedly. He had few favourites, and Mr. Gribble was not one of them. - -For two days the devoted husband did the housework and waited on the -invalid. Then he wearied, and, at his wife's suggestion, a small girl -was engaged as servant. She did most of the nursing as well, and, having -a great love for the sensational, took a grave view of her mistress's -condition. - -It was a relief to Mr. Gribble when his wife came downstairs again, and -he was cheered to see that she looked much better. His satisfaction was -so marked that it brought on her cough again. - -“It's this house, I think,” she said, with a resigned smile. “It never -did agree with me. - -“Well, you've lived in it a good many years,” said her husband, -controlling himself with difficulty. - -“It's rather dark and small,” said Mrs. Gribble. “Not but what it is -good enough for me. And I dare say it will last my time.” - -“Nonsense!” said her husband, gruffly. “You want to get out a bit more. -You've got nothing to do now we are wasting all this money on a servant. -Why don't you go out for little walks?” - -Mrs. Gribble went, after several promptings, and the fruit of one of -them was handed by the postman to Mr. Gribble a few days afterwards. -Half-choking with wrath and astonishment, he stood over his trembling -wife with the first draper's bill he had ever received. - -“One pound two shillings and threepence three-farthings!” he recited. -“It must be a mistake. It must be for somebody else.” - -Mrs. Gribble, with her hand to her heart, tottered to the sofa and lay -there with her eyes closed. - -“I had to get some dress material,” she said, in a quavering voice. “You -want me to go out, and I'm so shabby I'm ashamed to be seen.” - -Mr. Gribble made muffled noises in his throat; then, afraid to trust -himself, he went into the back-yard and, taking a seat on an upturned -bucket, sat with his head in his hands peering into the future. - -The dressmaker's bill and a bill for a new hat came after the next -monthly payment; and a bill for shoes came a week later. Hoping much -from the well-known curative effects of fine feathers, he managed to -treat the affair with dignified silence. The only time he allowed full -play to his feelings Mrs. Gribble took to her bed for two days, and the -doctor had a heart-to-heart talk with him on the doorstep. - -It was a matter of great annoyance to him that his wife still continued -to attribute her ill-health to the smallness and darkness of the house; -and the fact that there were only two of the houses in Charlton Grove -left caused a marked depression of spirits. It was clear that she was -fretting. The small servant went further, and said that she was fading -away. - -They moved at the September quarter, and a slight, but temporary, -improvement in Mrs. Gribble's health took place. Her cheeks flushed and -her eyes sparkled over new curtains and new linoleum. The tiled hearths, -and stained glass in the front door filled her with a deep and solemn -thankfulness. The only thing that disturbed her was the fact that Mr. -Gribble, to avoid wasting money over necessaries, contrived to spend an -unduly large portion on personal luxuries. - -“We ought to have some new things for the kitchen,” she said one day. - -“No money,” said Mr. Gribble, laconically. - -“And a mat for the bathroom.” - -Mr. Gribble got up and went out. - -She had to go to him for everything. Two hundred a year and not a penny -she could call her own! She consulted her heart, and that faithful organ -responded with a bound that set her nerves quivering. If she could only -screw her courage to the sticking-point the question would be settled -for once and all. - -White and trembling she sat at breakfast on the first of November, -waiting for the postman, while the unconscious Mr. Gribble went on with -his meal. The double-knocks down the road came nearer and nearer, and -Mr. Gribble, wiping his mouth, sat upright with an air of alert and -pleased interest. Rapid steps came to the front door, and a double bang -followed. - -“Always punctual,” said Mr. Gribble, good-humouredly. - -His wife made no reply, but, taking a blue-crossed envelope from the -maid in her shaking fingers, looked round for a knife. Her gaze -encountered Mr. Gribble's outstretched hand. - -“After you,” he said sharply. - -Mrs. Gribble found the knife, and, hacking tremulously at the envelope, -peeped inside it and, with her gaze fastened on the window, fumbled for -her pocket. She was so pale and shook so much that the words died away -on her husband's lips. - -“It is—all right,” gasped his wife. - -She put her hand to her throat and, hardly able to believe in her -victory, sat struggling for breath. Before her, grim and upright, her -husband sat, a figure of helpless smouldering wrath. - -“You might lose it,” he said, at last. “I sha'n't lose it,” said his -wife. - -To avoid further argument, she arose and went slowly upstairs. Through -the doorway Mr. Gribble saw her helping herself up by the banisters, her -left hand still at her throat. Then he heard her moving slowly about in -the bedroom overhead. - -He took out his pipe and filled it mechanically, and was just holding a -match to the tobacco when he paused and gazed with a puzzled air at the -ceiling. “Blamed if it don't sound like somebody dancing!” he growled. - - - - -STEPPING BACKWARDS - - - - -Wonderful improvement,” said Mr. Jack Mills. “Show 'em to me again.” - -Mr. Simpson took his pipe from his mouth and, parting his lips, revealed -his new teeth. - -“And you talk better,” said Mr. Mills, taking his glass from the counter -and emptying it; “you ain't got that silly lisp you used to have. What -does your missis think of 'em?” - -“She hasn't seen 'em yet,” said the other. “I had 'em put in at -dinner-time. I ate my dinner with 'em.” - -Mr. Mills expressed his admiration. “If it wasn't for your white hair -and whiskers you'd look thirty again,” he said, slowly. “How old are -you?” - -“Fifty-three,” said his friend. “If it wasn't for being laughed at I've -often thought of having my whiskers shaved off and my hair dyed black. -People think I'm sixty.” - -“Or seventy,” continued Mr. Mills. “What does it matter, people -laughing? You've got a splendid head of 'air, and it would dye -beautiful.” - -Mr. Simpson shook his head and, ordering a couple of glasses of bitter, -attacked his in silence. - -“It might be done gradual,” he said, after a long interval. “It don't do -anybody good at the warehouse to look old.” - -“Make a clean job of it,” counselled Mr. Mills, who was very fond of a -little cheap excitement. “Get it over and done with. You've got good -features, and you'd look splendid clean-shaved.” Mr. Simpson smiled -faintly. “Only on Wednesday the barmaid here was asking after you,” -pursued Mr. Mills. Mr. Simpson smiled again. “She says to me, 'Where's -Gran'pa?' she says, and when I says, haughty like, 'Who do you mean?' -she says, 'Father Christmas!' If you was to tell her that you are only -fifty-three, she'd laugh in your face.” - -“Let her laugh,” said the other, sourly. - -“Come out and get it off,” said Mr. Mills, earnestly. “There's a -barber's in Bird Street; you could go in the little back room, where he -charges a penny more, and get it done without anybody being a bit the -wiser.” - -He put his hand on Mr. Simpson's shoulder, and that gentleman, with a -glare in the direction of the fair but unconscious offender, rose in a -hypnotized fashion and followed him out. Twice on the way to Bird Street -Mr. Simpson paused and said he had altered his mind, and twice did the -propulsion of Mr. Mills's right hand, and his flattering argument, make -him alter it again. - -It was a matter of relief to Mr. Simpson that the barber took his -instructions without any show of surprise. It appeared, indeed, that an -elderly man of seventy-eight had enlisted his services for a similar -purpose not two months before, and had got married six weeks afterwards. -Age of the bride given as twenty-four, but said to have looked older. - -A snip of the scissors, and six inches of white beard fell to the floor. -For the first time in thirty years Mr. Simpson felt a razor on his face. -Then his hair was cut and shampooed; and an hour later he sat gazing at -a dark-haired, clean-shaven man in the glass who gazed back at him with -wondering eyes—a lean-jawed, good-looking man, who, in a favourable -light, might pass for forty. He turned and met the admiring eyes of Mr. -Mills. - -“What did I tell you?” inquired the latter. “You look young enough to be -your own son.” - -“Or grandson,” said the barber, with professional pride. - -Mr. Simpson got up slowly from the chair and, accompanied by the -admiring Mr. Mills, passed out into the street. The evening was young, -and, at his friend's suggestion, they returned to the Plume of Feathers. - -“You give the order,” said Mr. Mills, “and see whether she recognizes -you.” - -Mr. Simpson obeyed. - -“Don't you know him?” inquired Mr. Mills, as the barmaid turned away. - -“I don't think I have that pleasure,” said the girl, simpering. - -“Gran'pa's eldest boy,” said Mr. Mills. - -“Oh!” said the girl. “Well, I hope he's a better man than his father, -then?” - -“What do you mean by that?” demanded Mr. Simpson, painfully conscious of -his friend's regards. - -“Nothing,” said the girl, “nothing. Only we can all be better, can't we? -He's a nice old gentleman; so simple.” - -“Don't know you from Adam,” said Mr. Mills, as she turned away. “Now, if -you ask me, I don't believe as your own missis will recognize you.” - -“Rubbish,” said Mr. Simpson. “My wife would know me anywhere. We've been -married over thirty years. Thirty years of sunshine and shadow together. -You're a single man, and don't understand these things.” - -“P'r'aps you're right,” said his friend. “But it'll be a bit of a shock -to her, anyway. What do you say to me stepping round and breaking the -news to her? It's a bit sudden, you know. She's expecting a white-haired -old gentleman, not a black-haired boy.” - -Mr. Simpson looked a bit uneasy. “P'r'aps I ought to have told her -first,” he murmured, craning his neck to look in the glass at the back -of the bar. - -“I'll go and put it right for you,” said his friend. “You stay here and -smoke your pipe.” - -He stepped out briskly, but his pace slackened as he drew near the -house. - -“I—I—came—to see you about your husband,” he faltered, as Mrs. Simpson -opened the door and stood regarding him. - -“What's the matter?” she exclaimed, with a faint cry. “What's happened -to him?” - -“Nothing,” said Mr. Mills, hastily. “Nothing serious, that is. I just -came round to warn you so that you will be able to know it's him.” - -Mrs. Simpson let off a shriek that set his ears tingling. Then, -steadying herself by the wall, she tottered into the front room, -followed by the discomfited Mr. Mills, and sank into a chair. - -“He's dead!” she sobbed. “He's dead!” - -“He is not,” said Mr. Mills. - -“Is he much hurt? Is he dying?” gasped Mrs. Simpson. - -“Only his hair,” said Mr. Mills, clutching at the opening. “He is not -hurt at all.” - -Mrs. Simpson dabbed at her eyes-and sat regarding him in bewilderment. -Her twin chins were still quivering with emotion, but her eyes were -beginning to harden. “What are you talking about?” she inquired, in a -raspy voice. - -“He's been to a hairdresser's,” said Mr. Mills. “He's 'ad all his white -whiskers cut off, and his hair cut short and dyed black. And, what with -that and his new teeth, I thought—he thought—p'r'aps you mightn't know -him when he came home.” - -“Dyed?” cried Mrs. Simpson, starting to her feet. - -Mr. Mills nodded. “He looks twenty years younger,” he said, with a -smile. “He'd pass for his own son anywhere.” - -Mrs. Simpson's eyes snapped. “Perhaps he'd pass for my son,” she -remarked. - -“Yes, easy,” said the tactful Mr. Mills. “You can't think what a -difference it's made to him. That's why I came to see you—so you -shouldn't be startled.” - -“Thank you,” said Mrs. Simpson. “I'm much obliged. But you might have -spared yourself the trouble. I should know my husband anywhere.” - -“Ah, that's what you think,” retorted Mr. Mills, with a smile; “but the -barmaid at the Plume didn't. That's what made me come to you.” - -Mrs. Simpson gazed at him. - -“I says to myself,” continued Mr. Mills, “'If she don't know him, I'm -certain his missis won't, and I'd better——'” - -“You'd better go,” interrupted his hostess. - -Mr. Mills started, and then, with much dignity, stalked after her to the -door. - -“As to your story, I don't believe a word of it,” said Mrs. Simpson. -“Whatever else my husband is, he isn't a fool, and he'd no more think of -cutting off his whiskers and dyeing his hair than you would of telling -the truth.” - -“Seeing is believing,” said the offended Mr. Mills, darkly. - -“I'll wait till I do see, and then I sha'n't believe,” was the reply. -“It is a put-up job between you and some other precious idiot, I expect. -But you can't deceive me. If your black-haired friend comes here, he'll -get it, I can tell you.” - -She slammed the door on his protests and, returning to the parlour, -gazed fiercely into the glass on the mantelpiece. It reflected sixteen -stone of honest English womanhood, a thin wisp of yellowish-grey hair, -and a pair of faded eyes peering through clumsy spectacles. - -“Son, indeed!” she said, her lips quivering. “You wait till you come -home, my lord!” - -Mr. Simpson, with some forebodings, returned home an hour later. To a -man who loved peace and quietness the report of the indignant Mr. Mills -was not of a reassuring nature. He hesitated on the doorstep for a few -seconds while he fumbled for his key, and then, humming unconcernedly, -hung his hat in the passage and walked into the parlour. - -The astonished scream of his wife warned him that Mr. Mills had by no -means exaggerated. She rose from her seat and, crouching by the -fireplace, regarded him with a mixture of anger and dismay. - -“It—it's all right, Milly,” said Mr. Simpson, with a smile that revealed -a dazzling set of teeth. - -“Who are you?” demanded Mrs. Simpson. “How dare you call me by my -Christian name. It's a good job for you my husband is not here.” - -“He wouldn't hurt me,” said Mr. Simpson, with an attempt at -facetiousness. “He's the best friend I ever had. Why, we slept in the -same cradle.” - -“I don't want any of your nonsense,” said Mrs. Simpson. “You get out of -my house before I send for the police. How dare you come into a -respectable woman's house in this fashion? Be off with you.” - -“Now, look here, Milly——” began Mr. Simpson. - -His wife drew herself up to her full height of four feet eleven. - -“I've had a hair-cut and a shave,” pursued her husband; “also I've had -my hair restored to its natural colour. But I'm the same man, and you -know it.” - -“I know nothing of the kind,” said his wife, doggedly. “I don't know you -from Adam. I've never seen you before, and I don't want to see you -again. You go away.” - -“I'm your husband, and my place is at home,” replied Mr. Simpson. “A man -can have a shave if he likes, can't he? Where's my supper?” - -“Go on,” said his wife. “Keep it up. But be careful my husband don't -come in and catch you, that's all.” - -Mr. Simpson gazed at her fixedly, and then, with an impatient -exclamation, walked into the small kitchen and began to set the supper. -A joint of cold beef, a jar of pickles, bread, butter, and cheese made -an appetizing display. Then he took a jug from the dresser and descended -to the cellar. - -A musical trickling fell on the ear of Mrs. Simpson as she stood at the -parlour door, and drew her stealthily to the cellar. The key was in the -lock, and, with a sudden movement, she closed the door and locked it. A -sharp cry from Mr. Simpson testified to his discomfiture. - -“Now I'm off for the police,” cried his wife. - -“Don't be a fool,” shouted Mr. Simpson, tugging wildly at the -door-handle. “Open the door.” - -Mrs. Simpson remained silent, and her husband resumed his efforts until -the door-knob, unused to such treatment, came off in his hand. A sudden -scrambling noise on the cellar stairs satisfied the listener that he had -not pulled it off intentionally. - -She stood for a few moments, considering. It was a stout door and opened -inwards. She took her bonnet from its nail in the kitchen and, walking -softly to the street-door, set off to lay the case before a brother who -lived a few doors away. - -“Poor old Bill,” said Mr. Cooper, when she had finished. “Still, it -might be worse; he's got the barrel o' beer with him.” - -“It's not Bill,” said Mrs. Simpson. - -Mr. Cooper scratched his whiskers and looked at his wife. - -“She ought to know,” said the latter. “We'll come and have a look at -him,” said Mr. Cooper. - -Mrs. Simpson pondered, and eyed him dubiously. - -“Come in and have a bit of supper,” she said at last. “There's a nice -piece of beef and pickles.” - -“And Bill—I mean the stranger—sitting on the beer-barrel,” said Mr. -Cooper, gloomily. - -“You can bring your beer with you,” said his sister, sharply. “Come -along.” - -Mr. Cooper grinned, and, placing a couple of bottles in his coat -pockets, followed the two ladies to the house. Seated at the kitchen -table, he grinned again, as a persistent drumming took place on the -cellar door. His wife smiled, and a faint, sour attempt in the same -direction appeared on the face of Mrs. Simpson. - -“Open the door!” bellowed an indignant voice. “Open the door!” - -Mrs. Simpson, commanding silence with an uplifted finger, proceeded to -carve the beef. A rattle of knives and forks succeeded. - -“O-pen-the-door!” said the voice again. - -“Not so much noise,” commanded Mr. Cooper. “I can't hear myself eat.” - -“Bob!” said the voice, in relieved accents, “Bob! Come and let me out.” - -Mr. Cooper, putting a huge hand over his mouth, struggled nobly with his -feelings. - -“Who are you calling 'Bob'?” he demanded, in an unsteady voice. “You -keep yourself to yourself. I've heard all about you. You've got to stay -there till my brother-in-law comes home.” - -“It's me, Bob,” said Mr. Simpson—“Bill.” - -“Yes, I dare say,” said Mr. Cooper; “but if you're Bill, why haven't you -got Bill's voice?” - -“Let me out and look at me,” said Mr. Simpson. - -There was a faint scream from both ladies, followed by protests. - -“Don't be alarmed,” said Mr. Cooper, reassuringly. “I wasn't born -yesterday. I don't want to get a crack over the head.” - -“It's all a mistake, Bob,” said the prisoner, appealingly. “I just had a -shave and a haircut and—and a little hair-dye. If you open the door -you'll know me at once.” - -“How would it be,” said Mr. Cooper, turning to his sister, and speaking -with unusual distinctness—“how would it be if you opened the door, and -just as he put his head out I hit it a crack with the poker?” - -“You try it on,” said the voice behind the door, hotly. “You know who I -am well enough, Bob Cooper. I don't want any more of your nonsense. -Milly has put you up to this!” - -“If your wife don't know you, how do you think I can?” said Mr. Cooper. -“Now, look here; you keep quiet till my brother-in-law comes home. If he -don't come home perhaps we shall be more likely to think you're him. If -he's not home by to-morrow morning we—Hsh! Hsh! Don't you know there's -ladies present?” - -“That settles it,” said Mrs. Cooper, speaking for the first time. “My -brother-in-law would never talk like that.” - -“I should never forgive him if he did,” said her husband, piously. - -He poured himself out another glass of beer and resumed his supper with -relish. Conversation turned on the weather, and from that to the price -of potatoes. Frantic efforts on the part of the prisoner to join in the -conversation and give it a more personal turn were disregarded. Finally -he began to kick with monotonous persistency on the door. - -“Stop it!” shouted Mr. Cooper. - -“I won't,” said Mr. Simpson. - -The noise became unendurable. Mr. Cooper, who had just lit his pipe, -laid it on the table and looked round at his companions. - -“He'll have the door down soon,” he said, rising. “Halloa, there!” - -“Halloa!” said the other. - -“You say you're Bill Simpson,” said Mr. Cooper, holding up a forefinger -at Mrs. Simpson, who was about to interrupt. “If you are, tell us -something you know that only you could know; something we know, so as to -identify you. Things about your past.” - -A strange noise sounded behind the door. - -“Sounds as though he is smacking his lips,” said Mrs. Cooper to her -sister-in-law, who was eyeing Mr. Cooper restlessly. - -“Very good,” said Mr. Simpson; “I agree. Who is there?” - -“Me and my wife and Mrs. Simpson,” said Mr. Cooper. - -“He is smacking his lips,” whispered Mrs. Cooper. “Having a go at the -beer, perhaps.” - -“Let's go back fifteen years,” said Mr. Simpson in meditative tones. “Do -you remember that girl with copper-coloured hair that used to live in -John Street?” - -“No!” said Mr. Cooper, loudly and suddenly. - -“Do you remember coming to me one day—two days after Valentine Day, it -was—white as chalk and shaking like a leaf, and—” - -“NO!” roared Mr. Cooper. - -“Very well, I must try something else, then,” said Mr. Simpson, -philosophically. “Carry your mind back ten years, Bob Cooper—” - -“Look here!” said Mr. Cooper, turning round with a ghastly smile. “We'd -better get off home, Mary. I don't like interfering in other people's -concerns. Never did.” - -“You stay where you are,” said his wife. - -“Ten years,” repeated the voice behind the door. “There was a new -barmaid at the Crown, and one night you——” - -“If I listen to any more of this nonsense I shall burst,” remarked Mr. -Cooper, plaintively. - -“Go on,” prompted Mrs. Cooper, grimly. “One night——” - -“Never mind,” said Mr. Simpson. “It doesn't matter. But does he identify -me? Because if not I've got a lot more things I can try.” - -The harassed Mr. Cooper looked around appealingly. - -“How do you expect me to recognize you—” he began, and stopped suddenly. - -“Go back to your courting days, then,” said Mr. Simpson, “when Mrs. -Cooper wasn't Mrs. Cooper, but only wanted to be.” - -Mrs. Cooper shivered; so did Mr. Cooper. - -“And you came round to me for advice,” pursued Mr. Simpson, in -reminiscent accents, “because there was another girl you wasn't sure of, -and you didn't want to lose them both. Do you remember sitting with the -two photographs—one on each knee—and trying to make up your mind?” - -“Wonderful imagination,” said Mr. Cooper, smiling in a ghastly fashion -at his wife. “Hark at him!” - -“I am harking,” said Mrs. Cooper. - -“Am I Bill Simpson or am I not?” demanded Mr. Simpson. - -“Bill was always fond of his joke,” said Mr. Cooper, with a glance at -the company that would have moved an oyster. “He was always fond of -making up things. You're like him in that. What do you think, Milly?” - -“It's not my husband,” said Mrs. Simpson. - -“Tell us something about her,” said Mr. Cooper, hastily. - -“I daren't,” said Mr. Simpson. “Doesn't that prove I'm her husband? But -I'll tell you things about your wife, if you like.” - -“You dare!” said Mrs. Cooper, turning crimson, as she realized what -confidences might have passed between husband and wife. “If you say a -word of your lies about me, I don't know what I won't do to you.” - -“Very well, I must go on about Bob, then—till he recognizes me,” said -Mr. Simpson, patiently. “Carry your mind—” - -“Open the door and let him out,” shouted Mr. Cooper, turning to his -sister. “How can I recognize a man through a deal door?” - -Mrs. Simpson, after a little hesitation, handed him the key, and the -next moment her husband stepped out and stood blinking in the gas-light. - -“Do you recognize me?” he asked, turning to Mr. Cooper. - -“I do,” said that gentleman, with a ferocious growl. - -“I'd know you anywhere,” said Mrs. Cooper, with emphasis. - -“And you?” said Mr. Simpson, turning to his wife. - -“You're not my husband,” she said, obstinately. - -“Are you sure?” inquired Mr. Cooper. - -“Certain.” - -“Very good, then,” said her brother. “If he's not your husband I'm going -to knock his head off for telling them lies about me.” - -He sprang forward and, catching Mr. Simpson by the collar, shook him -violently until his head banged against the dresser. The next moment the -hands of Mrs. Simpson were in the hair of Mr. Cooper. - -“How dare you knock my husband about!” she screamed, as Mr. Cooper let -go and caught her fingers. “You've hurt him.” - -“Concussion, I think,” said Mr. Simpson, with great presence of mind. - -His wife helped him to a chair and, wetting her handkerchief at the tap, -tenderly bathed the dyed head. Mr. Cooper, breathing hard, stood by -watching until his wife touched him on the arm. - -“You come off home,” she said, in a hard voice. “You ain't wanted. Are -you going to stay here all night?” - -“I should like to,” said Mr. Cooper, wistfully. - - - - -THE THREE SISTERS - - - - -Thirty years ago on a wet autumn evening the household of Mallett's -Lodge was gathered round the death-bed of Ursula Mallow, the eldest of -the three sisters who inhabited it. The dingy moth-eaten curtains of the -old wooden bedstead were drawn apart, the light of a smoking oil-lamp -falling upon the hopeless countenance of the dying woman as she turned -her dull eyes upon her sisters. The room was in silence except for an -occasional sob from the youngest sister, Eunice. Outside the rain fell -steadily over the steaming marshes. - -“Nothing is to be changed, Tabitha,” gasped Ursula to the other sister, -who bore a striking likeness to her although her expression was harder -and colder; “this room is to be locked up and never opened.” - -“Very well,” said Tabitha brusquely, “though I don't see how it can -matter to you then.” - -“It does matter,” said her sister with startling energy. “How do you -know, how do I know that I may not sometimes visit it? I have lived in -this house so long I am certain that I shall see it again. I will come -back. Come back to watch over you both and see that no harm befalls -you.” - -“You are talking wildly,” said Tabitha, by no means moved at her -sister's solicitude for her welfare. “Your mind is wandering; you know -that I have no faith in such things.” - -Ursula sighed, and beckoning to Eunice, who was weeping silently at the -bedside, placed her feeble arms around her neck and kissed her. - -“Do not weep, dear,” she said feebly. “Perhaps it is best so. A lonely -woman's life is scarce worth living. We have no hopes, no aspirations; -other women have had happy husbands and children, but we in this -forgotten place have grown old together. I go first, but you must soon -follow.” - -Tabitha, comfortably conscious of only forty years and an iron frame, -shrugged her shoulders and smiled grimly. - -“I go first,” repeated Ursula in a new and strange voice as her heavy -eyes slowly closed, “but I will come for each of you in turn, when your -lease of life runs out. At that moment I will be with you to lead your -steps whither I now go.” - -As she spoke the flickering lamp went out suddenly as though -extinguished by a rapid hand, and the room was left in utter darkness. A -strange suffocating noise issued from the bed, and when the trembling -women had relighted the lamp, all that was left of Ursula Mallow was -ready for the grave. - -That night the survivors passed together. The dead woman had been a firm -believer in the existence of that shadowy borderland which is said to -form an unhallowed link between the living and the dead, and even the -stolid Tabitha, slightly unnerved by the events of the night, was not -free from certain apprehensions that she might have been right. - -With the bright morning their fears disappeared. The sun stole in at the -window, and seeing the poor earth-worn face on the pillow so touched it -and glorified it that only its goodness and weakness were seen, and the -beholders came to wonder how they could ever have felt any dread of -aught so calm and peaceful. A day or two passed, and the body was -transferred to a massive coffin long regarded as the finest piece of -work of its kind ever turned out of the village carpenter's workshop. -Then a slow and melancholy cortege headed by four bearers wound its -solemn way across the marshes to the family vault in the grey old -church, and all that was left of Ursula was placed by the father and -mother who had taken that self-same journey some thirty years before. - -To Eunice as they toiled slowly home the day seemed strange and -Sabbath-like, the flat prospect of marsh wilder and more forlorn than -usual, the roar of the sea more depressing. Tabitha had no such fancies. -The bulk of the dead woman's property had been left to Eunice, and her -avaricious soul was sorely troubled and her proper sisterly feelings of -regret for the deceased sadly interfered with in consequence. - -“What are you going to do with all that money, Eunice?” she asked as -they sat at their quiet tea. - -“I shall leave it as it stands,” said Eunice slowly. “We have both got -sufficient to live upon, and I shall devote the income from it to -supporting some beds in a children's hospital.” - -“If Ursula had wished it to go to a hospital,” said Tabitha in her deep -tones, “she would have left the money to it herself. I wonder you do not -respect her wishes more.” - -“What else can I do with it then?” inquired Eunice. - -“Save it,” said the other with gleaming eyes, “save it.” - -Eunice shook her head. - -“No,” said she, “it shall go to the sick children, but the principal I -will not touch, and if I die before you it shall become yours and you -can do what you like with it.” - -“Very well,” said Tabitha, smothering her anger by a strong effort; “I -don't believe that was what Ursula meant you to do with it, and I don't -believe she will rest quietly in the grave while you squander the money -she stored so carefully.” - -“What do you mean?” asked Eunice with pale lips. “You are trying to -frighten me; I thought that you did not believe in such things.” - -Tabitha made no answer, and to avoid the anxious inquiring gaze of her -sister, drew her chair to the fire, and folding her gaunt arms, composed -herself for a nap. - -For some time life went on quietly in the old house. The room of the -dead woman, in accordance with her last desire, was kept firmly locked, -its dirty windows forming a strange contrast to the prim cleanliness of -the others. Tabitha, never very talkative, became more taciturn than -ever, and stalked about the house and the neglected garden like an -unquiet spirit, her brow roughened into the deep wrinkles suggestive of -much thought. As the winter came on, bringing with it the long dark -evenings, the old house became more lonely than ever, and an air of -mystery and dread seemed to hang over it and brood in its empty rooms -and dark corridors. The deep silence of night was broken by strange -noises for which neither the wind nor the rats could be held -accountable. Old Martha, seated in her distant kitchen, heard strange -sounds upon the stairs, and once, upon hurrying to them, fancied that -she saw a dark figure squatting upon the landing, though a subsequent -search with candle and spectacles failed to discover anything. Eunice -was disturbed by several vague incidents, and, as she suffered from a -complaint of the heart, rendered very ill by them. Even Tabitha admitted -a strangeness about the house, but, confident in her piety and virtue, -took no heed of it, her mind being fully employed in another direction. - -Since the death of her sister all restraint upon her was removed, and -she yielded herself up entirely to the stern and hard rules enforced by -avarice upon its devotees. Her housekeeping expenses were kept rigidly -separate from those of Eunice and her food limited to the coarsest -dishes, while in the matter of clothes, the old servant was by far the -better dressed. Seated alone in her bedroom this uncouth, hard-featured -creature revelled in her possessions, grudging even the expense of the -candle-end which enabled her to behold them. So completely did this -passion change her that both Eunice and Martha became afraid of her, and -lay awake in their beds night after night trembling at the chinking of -the coins at her unholy vigils. - -One day Eunice ventured to remonstrate. “Why don't you bank your money, -Tabitha?” she said; “it is surely not safe to keep such large sums in -such a lonely house.” - -“Large sums!” repeated the exasperated Tabitha, “large sums! what -nonsense is this? You know well that I have barely sufficient to keep -me.” - -“It's a great temptation to housebreakers,” said her sister, not -pressing the point. “I made sure last night that I heard somebody in the -house.” - -“Did you?” said Tabitha, grasping her arm, a horrible look on her face. -“So did I. I thought they went to Ursula's room, and I got out of bed -and went on the stairs to listen.” - -“Well?” said Eunice faintly, fascinated by the look on her sister's -face. - -“There was something there,” said Tabitha slowly. “I'll swear it, for I -stood on the landing by her door and listened; something scuffling on -the floor round and round the room. At first I thought it was the cat, -but when I went up there this morning the door was still locked, and the -cat was in the kitchen.” - -“Oh, let us leave this dreadful house,” moaned Eunice. - -“What!” said her sister grimly; “afraid of poor Ursula? Why should you -be? Your own sister who nursed you when you were a babe, and who perhaps -even now comes and watches over your slumbers.” - -“Oh!” said Eunice, pressing her hand to her side, “if I saw her I should -die. I should think that she had come for me as she said she would. O -God! have mercy on me, I am dying.” - -She reeled as she spoke, and before Tabitha could save her, sank -senseless to the floor. - -“Get some water,” cried Tabitha, as old Martha came hurrying up the -stairs, “Eunice has fainted.” - -The old woman, with a timid glance at her, retired, reappearing shortly -afterwards with the water, with which she proceeded to restore her -much-loved mistress to her senses. Tabitha, as soon as this was -accomplished, stalked off to her room, leaving her sister and Martha -sitting drearily enough in the small parlour, watching the fire and -conversing in whispers. - -It was clear to the old servant that this state of things could not last -much longer, and she repeatedly urged her mistress to leave a house so -lonely and so mysterious. To her great delight Eunice at length -consented, despite the fierce opposition of her sister, and at the mere -idea of leaving gained greatly in health and spirits. A small but -comfortable house was hired in Morville, and arrangements made for a -speedy change. - -It was the last night in the old house, and all the wild spirits of the -marshes, the wind and the sea seemed to have joined forces for one -supreme effort. When the wind dropped, as it did at brief intervals, the -sea was heard moaning on the distant beach, strangely mingled with the -desolate warning of the bell-buoy as it rocked to the waves. Then the -wind rose again, and the noise of the sea was lost in the fierce gusts -which, finding no obstacle on the open marshes, swept with their full -fury upon the house by the creek. The strange voices of the air shrieked -in its chimneys windows rattled, doors slammed, and even, the very -curtains seemed to live and move. - -Eunice was in bed, awake. A small nightlight in a saucer of oil shed a -sickly glare upon the worm-eaten old furniture, distorting the most -innocent articles into ghastly shapes. A wilder gust than usual almost -deprived her of the protection afforded by that poor light, and she lay -listening fearfully to the creakings and other noises on the stairs, -bitterly regretting that she had not asked Martha to sleep with her. But -it was not too late even now. She slipped hastily to the floor, crossed -to the huge wardrobe, and was in the very act of taking her -dressing-gown from its peg when an unmistakable footfall was heard on -the stairs. The robe dropped from her shaking fingers, and with a -quickly beating heart she regained her bed. - -The sounds ceased and a deep silence followed, which she herself was -unable to break although she strove hard to do so. A wild gust of wind -shook the windows and nearly extinguished the light, and when its flame -had regained its accustomed steadiness she saw that the door was slowly -opening, while the huge shadow of a hand blotted the papered wall. Still -her tongue refused its office. The door flew open with a crash, a -cloaked figure entered and, throwing aside its coverings, she saw with a -horror past all expression the napkin-bound face of the dead Ursula -smiling terribly at her. In her last extremity she raised her faded eyes -above for succour, and then as the figure noiselessly advanced and laid -its cold hand upon her brow, the soul of Eunice Mallow left its body -with a wild shriek and made its way to the Eternal. - -Martha, roused by the cry, and shivering with dread, rushed to the door -and gazed in terror at the figure which stood leaning over the bedside. -As she watched, it slowly removed the cowl and the napkin and exposed -the fell face of Tabitha, so strangely contorted between fear and -triumph that she hardly recognized it. - -“Who's there?” cried Tabitha in a terrible voice as she saw the old -woman's shadow on the wall. - -“I thought I heard a cry,” said Martha, entering. “Did anybody call?” - -“Yes, Eunice,” said the other, regarding her closely. “I, too, heard the -cry, and hurried to her. What makes her so strange? Is she in a trance?” - -“Ay,” said the old woman, falling on her knees by the bed and sobbing -bitterly, “the trance of death. Ah, my dear, my poor lonely girl, that -this should be the end of it! She has died of fright,” said the old -woman, pointing to the eyes, which even yet retained their horror. “She -has seen something devilish.” - -Tabitha's gaze fell. “She has always suffered with her heart,” she -muttered; “the night has frightened her; it frightened me.” - -She stood upright by the foot of the bed as Martha drew the sheet over -the face of the dead woman. - -“First Ursula, then Eunice,” said Tabitha, drawing a deep breath. “I -can't stay here. I'll dress and wait for the morning.” - -She left the room as she spoke, and with bent head proceeded to her own. -Martha remained by the bedside, and gently closing the staring eyes, -fell on her knees, and prayed long and earnestly for the departed soul. -Overcome with grief and fear she remained with bowed head until a sudden -sharp cry from Tabitha brought her to her feet. - -“Well,” said the old woman, going to the door. - -“Where are you?” cried Tabitha, somewhat reassured by her voice. - -“In Miss Eunice's bedroom. Do you want anything?” - -“Come down at once. Quick! I am unwell.” - -Her voice rose suddenly to a scream. “Quick! For God's sake! Quick, or I -shall go mad. There is some strange woman in the house.” - -The old woman stumbled hastily down the dark stairs. “What is the -matter?” she cried, entering the room. “Who is it? What do you mean?” - -“I saw it,” said Tabitha, grasping her convulsively by the shoulder. “I -was coming to you when I saw the figure of a woman in front of me going -up the stairs. Is it—can it be Ursula come for the soul of Eunice, as -she said she would?” - -“Or for yours?” said Martha, the words coming from her in some odd -fashion, despite herself. - -Tabitha, with a ghastly look, fell cowering by her side, clutching -tremulously at her clothes. “Light the lamps,” she cried hysterically. -“Light a fire, make a noise; oh, this dreadful darkness! Will it never -be day!” - -“Soon, soon,” said Martha, overcoming her repugnance and trying to -pacify her. “When the day comes you will laugh at these fears.” - -“I murdered her,” screamed the miserable woman, “I killed her with -fright. Why did she not give me the money? 'Twas no use to her. Ah! Look -there!” - -Martha, with a horrible fear, followed her glance to the door, but saw -nothing. - -“It's Ursula,” said Tabitha from between her teeth. “Keep her off! Keep -her off!” - -The old woman, who by some unknown sense seemed to feel the presence of -a third person in the room, moved a step forward and stood before her. -As she did so Tabitha waved her arms as though to free herself from the -touch of a detaining hand, half rose to her feet, and without a word -fell dead before her. - -At this the old woman's courage forsook her, and with a great cry she -rushed from the room, eager to escape from this house of death and -mystery. The bolts of the great door were stiff with age, and strange -voices seemed to ring in her ears as she strove wildly to unfasten them. -Her brain whirled. She thought that the dead in their distant rooms -called to her, and that a devil stood on the step outside laughing and -holding the door against her. Then with a supreme effort she flung it -open, and heedless of her night-clothes passed into the bitter night. -The path across the marshes was lost in the darkness, but she found it; -the planks over the ditches slippery and narrow, but she crossed them in -safety, until at last, her feet bleeding and her breath coming in great -gasps, she entered the village and sank down more dead than alive on a -cottage doorstep. - - - - -THE UNKNOWN - - - - -Handsome is as 'andsome does,” said the night-watchman. It's an old -saying, but it's true. Give a chap good looks, and it's precious little -else that is given to 'im. He's lucky when 'is good looks 'ave gorn—or -partly gorn—to get a berth as night-watchman or some other hard and -bad-paid job. - -One drawback to a good-looking man is that he generally marries young; -not because 'e wants to, but because somebody else wants 'im to. And -that ain't the worst of it: the handsomest chap I ever knew married five -times, and got seven years for it. It wasn't his fault, pore chap; he -simply couldn't say No. - -One o' the best-looking men I ever knew was Cap'n Bill Smithers, wot -used to come up here once a week with a schooner called the Wild Rose. -Funny thing about 'im was he didn't seem to know about 'is good looks, -and he was one o' the quietest, best-behaved men that ever came up the -London river. Considering that he was mistook for me more than once, it -was just as well. - -He didn't marry until 'e was close on forty; and then 'e made the -mistake of marrying a widder-woman. She was like all the rest of -'em—only worse. Afore she was married butter wouldn't melt in 'er mouth, -but as soon as she 'ad got her “lines” safe she began to make up for it. - -For the fust month or two 'e didn't mind it, 'e rather liked being -fussed arter, but when he found that he couldn't go out for arf an hour -without having 'er with 'im he began to get tired of it. Her idea was -that 'e was too handsome to be trusted out alone; and every trip he made -'e had to write up in a book, day by day, wot 'e did with himself. Even -then she wasn't satisfied, and, arter saying that a wife's place was by -the side of 'er husband, she took to sailing with 'im every v'y'ge. - -Wot he could ha' seen in 'er I don't know. I asked 'im one evening—in a -roundabout way—and he answered in such a long, roundabout way that I -didn't know wot to make of it till I see that she was standing just -behind me, listening. Arter that I heard 'er asking questions about me, -but I didn't 'ave to listen: I could hear 'er twenty yards away, and -singing to myself at the same time. - -Arter that she treated me as if I was the dirt beneath 'er feet. She -never spoke to me, but used to speak against me to other people. She was -always talking to them about the “sleeping-sickness” and things o' that -kind. She said night-watchmen always made 'er think of it somehow, but -she didn't know why, and she couldn't tell you if you was to ask her. -The only thing I was thankful for was that I wasn't 'er husband. She -stuck to 'im like his shadow, and I began to think at last it was a pity -she 'adn't got some thing to be jealous about and something to occupy -her mind with instead o' me. - -“She ought to 'ave a lesson,” I ses to the skipper one evening. “Are you -going to be follered about like this all your life? If she was made to -see the foolishness of 'er ways she might get sick of it.” - -My idea was to send her on a wild-goose chase, and while the Wild Rose -was away I thought it out. I wrote a love-letter to the skipper signed -with the name of “Dorothy,” and asked 'im to meet me at Cleopatra's -Needle on the Embankment at eight o'clock on Wednesday. I told 'im to -look out for a tall girl (Mrs. Smithers was as short as they make 'em) -with mischievous brown eyes, in a blue 'at with red roses on it. - -I read it over careful, and arter marking it “Private,” twice in front -and once on the back, I stuck it down so that it could be blown open -a'most, and waited for the schooner to come back. Then I gave a van-boy -twopence to 'and it to Mrs. Smithers, wot was sitting on the deck alone, -and tell 'er it was a letter for Captain Smithers. - -I was busy with a barge wot happened to be handy at the time, but I -'eard her say that she would take it and give it to 'im. When I peeped -round she 'ad got the letter open and was leaning over the side to -wind'ard trying to get 'er breath. Every now and then she'd give another -look at the letter and open 'er mouth and gasp; but by and by she got -calmer, and, arter putting it back in the envelope, she gave it a lick -as though she was going to bite it, and stuck it down agin. Then she -went off the wharf, and I'm blest if, five minutes arterwards, a young -fellow didn't come down to the ship with the same letter and ask for the -skipper. - -“Who gave it you?” ses the skipper, as soon as 'e could speak. - -“A lady,” ses the young fellow. - -The skipper waved 'im away, and then 'e walked up and down the deck like -a man in a dream. - -“Bad news?” I ses, looking up and catching 'is eye. - -“No,” he ses, “no. Only a note about a couple o' casks o' soda.” - -He stuffed the letter in 'is pocket and sat on the side smoking till his -wife came back in five minutes' time, smiling all over with good temper. - -“It's a nice evening,” she ses, “and I think I'll just run over to -Dalston and see my Cousin Joe.” - -The skipper got up like a lamb and said he'd go and clean 'imself. - -“You needn't come if you feel tired,” she ses, smiling at 'im. - -The skipper could 'ardly believe his ears. - -“I do feel tired,” he ses. “I've had a heavy day, and I feel more like -bed than anything else.” - -“You turn in, then,” she ses. “I'll be all right by myself.” - -She went down and tidied herself up—not that it made much difference to -'er—and, arter patting him on the arm and giving me a stare that would -ha' made most men blink, she took herself off. - -I was pretty busy that evening. Wot with shifting lighters from under -the jetty and sweeping up, it was pretty near ha'-past seven afore I 'ad -a minute I could call my own. I put down the broom at last, and was just -thinking of stepping round to the Bull's Head for a 'arf-pint when I see -Cap'n Smithers come off the ship on to the wharf and walk to the gate. - -“I thought you was going to turn in?” I ses. - -“I did think of it,” he ses, “then I thought p'r'aps I'd better stroll -as far as Broad Street and meet my wife.” - -It was all I could do to keep a straight face. I'd a pretty good idea -where she 'ad gorn; and it wasn't Dalston. - -“Come in and 'ave 'arf a pint fust,” I ses. - -“No; I shall be late,” he ses, hurrying off. - -I went in and 'ad a glass by myself, and stood there so long thinking of -Mrs. Smithers walking up and down by Cleopatra's Needle that at last the -landlord fust asked me wot I was laughing at, and then offered to make -me laugh the other side of my face. And then he wonders why people go to -the Albion. - -I locked the gate rather earlier than usual that night. Sometimes if I'm -up that end I leave it a bit late, but I didn't want Mrs. Smithers to -come along and nip in without me seeing her face. - -It was ten o'clock afore I heard the bell go, and when I opened the -wicket and looked out I was surprised to see that she 'ad got the -skipper with 'er. And of all the miserable-looking objects I ever saw in -my life he was the worst. She 'ad him tight by the arm, and there was a -look on 'er face that a'most scared me. - -“Did you go all the way to Dalston for her?” I ses to 'im. - -Mrs. Smithers made a gasping sort o' noise, but the skipper didn't -answer a word. - -She shoved him in in front of 'er and stood ever 'im while he climbed -aboard. When he held out 'is hand to help 'er she struck it away. - -I didn't get word with 'im till five o'clock next morning, when he came -up on deck with his 'air all rough and 'is eyes red for want of sleep. - -“Haven't 'ad a wink all night,” he ses, stepping on to the wharf. - -I gave a little cough. “Didn't she 'ave a pleasant time at Dalston?” I -ses. - -He walked a little further off from the ship. “She didn't go there,” he -ses, in a whisper. - -“You've got something on your mind,” I ses. “Wot is it?” - -He wouldn't tell me at fust, but at last he told me all about the letter -from Dorothy, and 'is wife reading it unbeknown to 'im and going to meet -'er. - -“It was an awful meeting!” he ses. “Awful!” - -I couldn't think wot to make of it. “Was the gal there, then?” I ses, -staring at 'im. - -“No,” ses the skipper; “but I was.” - -“You?” I ses, starting back. “You! Wot for? I'm surprised at you! I -wouldn't ha' believed it of you!” - -“I felt a bit curious,” he ses, with a silly sort o' smile. “But wot I -can't understand is why the gal didn't turn up.” - -“I'm ashamed of you, Bill,” I ses, very severe. - -“P'r'aps she did,” he ses, 'arf to 'imself, “and then saw my missis -standing there waiting. P'r'aps that was it.” - -“Or p'r'aps it was somebody 'aving a game with you,” I ses. - -“You're getting old, Bill,” he ses, very short. “You don't understand. -It's some pore gal that's took a fancy to me, and it's my dooty to meet -'er and tell her 'ow things are.” - -He walked off with his 'ead in the air, and if 'e took that letter out -once and looked at it, he did five times. - -“Chuck it away,” I ses, going up to him. - -“Certainly not,” he ses, folding it up careful and stowing it away in -'is breastpocket. “She's took a fancy to me, and it's my dooty——” - -“You said that afore,” I ses. - -He stared at me nasty for a moment, and then 'e ses: “You ain't seen any -young lady hanging about 'ere, I suppose, Bill? A tall young lady with a -blue hat trimmed with red roses?” - -I shook my 'ead. - -“If you should see 'er,” he ses. - -“I'll tell your missis,” I ses. “It 'ud be much easier for her to do her -dooty properly than it would you. She'd enjoy doing it, too.” - -He went off agin then, and I thought he 'ad done with me, but he 'adn't. -He spoke to me that evening as if I was the greatest friend he 'ad in -the world. I 'ad two 'arfpints with 'im at the Albion—with his missis -walking up and down outside—and arter the second 'arf-pint he said he -wanted to meet Dorothy and tell 'er that 'e was married, and that he -'oped she would meet some good man that was worthy of 'er. - -I had a week's peace while the ship was away, but she was hardly made -fast afore I 'ad it all over agin and agin. - -“Are you sure there's been no more letters?” he ses. - -“Sartain,” I ses. - -“That's right,” he ses; “that's right. And you 'aven't seen her walking -up and down?” - -“No,” I ses. - -“'Ave you been on the look-out?” he ses. “I don't suppose a nice gal -like that would come and shove her 'ead in at the gate. Did you look up -and down the road?” - -“Yes,” I ses. “I've fair made my eyes ache watching for her.” - -“I can't understand it,” he ses. “It's a mystery to me, unless p'r'aps -she's been taken ill. She must 'ave seen me here in the fust place; and -she managed to get hold of my name. Mark my words, I shall 'ear from her -agin.” - -“'Ow do you know?” I ses. - -“I feel it 'ere,” he ses, very solemn, laying his 'and on his chest. - -I didn't know wot to do. Wot with 'is foolishness and his missis's -temper, I see I 'ad made a mess of it. He told me she had 'ardly spoke a -word to 'im for two days, and when I said—being a married man myself— -that it might ha' been worse, 'e said I didn't know wot I was talking -about. - -I did a bit o' thinking arter he 'ad gorn aboard agin. I dursn't tell -'im that I 'ad wrote the letter, but I thought if he 'ad one or two more -he'd see that some one was 'aving a game with 'im, and that it might do -'im good. Besides which it was a little amusement for me. - -Arter everybody was in their beds asleep I sat on a clerk's stool in the -office and wrote 'im another letter from Dorothy. I called 'im “Dear -Bill,” and I said 'ow sorry I was that I 'adn't had even a sight of 'im -lately, having been laid up with a sprained ankle and 'ad only just got -about agin. I asked 'im to meet me at Cleopatra's Needle at eight -o'clock, and said that I should wear the blue 'at with red roses. - -It was a very good letter, but I can see now that I done wrong in -writing it. I was going to post it to 'im, but, as I couldn't find an -envelope without the name of the blessed wharf on it, I put it in my -pocket till I got 'ome. - -I got 'ome at about a quarter to seven, and slept like a child till -pretty near four. Then I went downstairs to 'ave my dinner. - -The moment I opened the door I see there was something wrong. Three -times my missis licked 'er lips afore she could speak. Her face 'ad gone -a dirty white colour, and she was leaning forward with her 'ands on her -'ips, trembling all over with temper. - -“Is my dinner ready?” I ses, easy-like. “'Cos I'm ready for it.” - -“I—I wonder I don't tear you limb from limb,” she ses, catching her -breath. - -“Wot's the matter?” I ses. - -“And then boil you,” she ses, between her teeth. “You in one pot and -your precious Dorothy in another.” - -If anybody 'ad offered me five pounds to speak then, I couldn't ha' done -it. I see wot I'd done in a flash, and I couldn't say a word; but I kept -my presence o' mind, and as she came round one side o' the table I went -round the other. - -“Wot 'ave you got to say for yourself?” she ses, with a scream. - -“Nothing,” I ses, at last. “It's all a mistake.” - -“Mistake?” she ses. “Yes, you made a mistake leaving it in your pocket; -that's all the mistake you've made. That's wot you do, is it, when -you're supposed to be at the wharf? Go about with a blue 'at with red -roses in it! At your time o' life, and a wife at 'ome working herself to -death to make both ends meet and keep you respectable!” - -“It's all a mistake,” I ses. “The letter wasn't for me.” - -“Oh, no, o' course not,” she ses. “That's why you'd got it in your -pocket, I suppose. And I suppose you'll say your name ain't Bill next.” - -“Don't say things you'll be sorry for,” I ses. - -“I'll take care o' that,” she ses. “I might be sorry for not saying some -things, but I don't think I shall.” - -I don't think she was. I don't think she forgot anything, and she raked -up things that I 'ad contradicted years ago and wot I thought was all -forgot. And every now and then, when she stopped for breath, she'd try -and get round to the same side of the table I was. - -She follered me to the street door when I went and called things up the -road arter me. I 'ad a snack at a coffee-shop for my dinner, but I -'adn't got much appetite for it; I was too full of trouble and finding -fault with myself, and I went off to my work with a 'art as heavy as -lead. - -I suppose I 'adn't been on the wharf ten minutes afore Cap'n Smithers -came sidling up to me, but I got my spoke in fust. - -“Look 'ere,” I ses, “if you're going to talk about that forward hussy -wot's been writing to you, I ain't. I'm sick and tired of 'er.” - -“Forward hussy!” he ses. “Forward hussy!” And afore I could drop my -broom he gave me a punch in the jaw that pretty near broke it. “Say -another word against her,” he ses, “and I'll knock your ugly 'ead off. -How dare you insult a lady?” - -I thought I should 'ave gone crazy at fust, but I went off into the -office without a word. Some men would ha' knocked 'im down for it, but I -made allowances for 'is state o' mind, and I stayed inside until I see -'im get aboard agin. - -He was sitting on deck when I went out, and his missis too, but neither -of 'em spoke a word. I picked up my broom and went on sweeping, when -suddenly I 'eard a voice at the gate I thought I knew, and in came my -wife. - -“Ho!” she ses, calling out. “Ain't you gone to meet that gal at -Cleopatra's Needle yet? You ain't going to keep 'er waiting, are you?” - -“H'sh!” I ses. - -“H'sh! yourself,” she ses, shouting. “I've done nothing to be ashamed -of. I don't go to meet other people's husbands in a blue 'at with red -roses. I don't write 'em love-letters, and say 'H'sh!' to my wife when -she ventures to make a remark about it. I may work myself to skin and -bone for a man wot's old enough to know better, but I'm not going to be -trod on. Dorothy, indeed! I'll Dorothy 'er if I get the chance.” - -Mrs. Smithers, wot 'ad been listening with all her ears, jumped up, and -so did the skipper, and Mrs. Smithers came to the side in two steps. - -“Did you say 'Dorothy,' ma'am?” she ses to my missis. - -“I did,” ses my wife. “She's been writing to my husband.” - -“It must be the same one,” ses Mrs. Smithers. “She's been writing to -mine too.” - -The two of 'em stood there looking at each other for a minute, and then -my wife, holding the letter between 'er finger and thumb as if it was -pison, passed it to Mrs. Smithers. - -“It's the same,” ses Mrs. Smithers. “Was the envelope marked 'Private'?” - -“I didn't see no envelope,” ses my missis. “This is all I found.” - -Mrs. Smithers stepped on to the wharf and, taking 'old of my missis by -the arm, led her away whispering. At the same moment the skipper walked -across the deck and whispered to me. - -“Wot d'ye mean by it?” he ses. “Wot d'ye mean by 'aving letters from -Dorothy and not telling me about it?” - -“I can't help 'aving letters any more than you can,” I ses. “Now p'r'aps -you'll understand wot I meant by calling 'er a forward hussy.” - -“Fancy 'er writing to you!” he ses, wrinkling 'is forehead. “Pph! She -must be crazy.” - -“P'r'aps it ain't a gal at all,” I ses. “My belief is somebody is 'aving -a game with us.” - -“Don't be a fool,” he ses. “I'd like to see the party as would make a -fool of me like that. Just see 'im and get my 'ands on him. He wouldn't -want to play any more games.” - -It was no good talking to 'im. He was 'arf crazy with temper. If I'd -said the letter was meant for 'im he'd 'ave asked me wot I meant by -opening it and getting 'im into more trouble with 'is missis, instead of -giving it to 'im on the quiet. I just stood and suffered in silence, and -thought wot a lot of 'arm eddication did for people. - -“I want some money,” ses my missis, coming back at last with Mrs. -Smithers. - -That was the way she always talked when she'd got me in 'er power. She -took two-and-tenpence—all I'd got—and then she ordered me to go and get -a cab. - -“Me and this lady are going to meet her,” she ses, sniffing at me. - -“And tell her wot we think of 'er,” ses Mrs. Smithers, sniffing too. - -“And wot we'll do to 'er,” ses my missis. - -I left 'em standing side by side, looking at the skipper as if 'e was a -waxworks, while I went to find a cab. When I came back they was in the -same persition, and 'e was smoking with 'is eyes shut. - -They went off side by side in the cab, both of 'em sitting bolt-upright, -and only turning their 'eads at the last moment to give us looks we -didn't want. - -“I don't wish her no 'arm,” ses the skipper, arter thinking for a long -time. “Was that the fust letter you 'ad from 'er, Bill?” - -“Fust and last,” I ses, grinding my teeth. - -“I've been married longer than wot you have,” I ses, “and I tell you one -thing. It won't make no difference to us whether they do or they don't,” -I ses. - -And it didn't. - - - - -THE VIGIL - - - - -I'm the happiest man in the world,” said Mr. Farrer, in accents of -dreamy tenderness. - -Miss Ward sighed. “Wait till father comes in,” she said. - -Mr. Farrer peered through the plants which formed a welcome screen to -the window and listened with some uneasiness. He was waiting for the -firm, springy step that should herald the approach of ex-Sergeant-Major -Ward. A squeeze of Miss Ward's hand renewed his courage. - -“Perhaps I had better light the lamp,” said the girl, after a long -pause. “I wonder where mother's got to?” - -“She's on my side, at any rate,” said Mr. Farrer. - -“Poor mother!” said the girl. “She daren't call her soul her own. I -expect she's sitting in her bedroom with the door shut. She hates -unpleasantness. And there's sure to be some.” - -“So do I,” said the young man, with a slight shiver. “But why should -there be any? He doesn't want you to keep single all your life, does -he?” - -“He'd like me to marry a soldier,” said Miss Ward. “He says that the -young men of the present day are too soft. The only thing he thinks -about is courage and strength.” - -She rose and, placing the lamp on the table, removed the chimney, and -then sought round the room for the matches. Mr. Farrer, who had two -boxes in his pocket, helped her. - -They found a box at last on the mantelpiece, and Mr. Farrer steadied her -by placing one arm round her waist while she lit the lamp. A sudden -exclamation from outside reminded them that the blind was not yet drawn, -and they sprang apart in dismay as a grizzled and upright old warrior -burst into the room and confronted them. - -“Pull that blind down!” he roared. “Not you,” he continued, as Mr. -Farrer hastened to help. “What do you mean by touching my blind? What do -you mean by embracing my daughter? Eh? Why don't you answer?” - -“We—we are going to be married,” said Mr. Farrer, trying to speak -boldly. - -The sergeant-major drew himself up, and the young man gazed in dismay at -a chest which seemed as though it would never cease expanding. - -“Married!” exclaimed the sergeant-major, with a grim laugh. “Married to -a little tame bunny-rabbit! Not if I know it. Where's your mother?” he -demanded, turning to the girl. - -“Upstairs,” was the reply. - -Her father raised his voice, and a nervous reply came from above. A -minute later Mrs. Ward, pale of cheek, entered the room. - -“Here's fine goings-on!” said the sergeant major, sharply. “I go for a -little walk, and when I come back this—this infernal cockroach has got -its arm round my daughter's waist. Why don't you look after her? Do you -know anything about it?” - -His wife shook her head. - -“Five feet four and about thirty round the chest, and wants to marry my -daughter!” said the sergeant-major, with a sneer. “Eh? What's that? What -did you say? What?” - -“I said that's a pretty good size for a cockroach,” murmured Mr. Farrer, -defiantly. “Besides, size isn't everything. If it was, you'd be a -general instead of only a sergeant-major.” - -“You get out of my house,” said the other, as soon as he could get his -breath. “Go on Sharp with it.” - -“I'm going,” said the mortified Mr. Farrer. “I'm sorry if I was rude. I -came on purpose to see you to-night. Bertha—Miss Ward, I mean—told me -your ideas, but I couldn't believe her. I said you'd got more common -sense than to object to a man just because he wasn't a soldier.” - -“I want a man for a son-in-law,” said the other. “I don't say he's got -to be a soldier.” - -“Just so,” said Mr. Farrer. “You're a man, ain't you? Well, I'll do -anything that you'll do.” - -“Pph!” said the sergeant-major. “I've done my little lot. I've been in -action four times, and wounded in three places. That's my tally.” - -“The colonel said once that my husband doesn't know what fear is,” said -Mrs. Ward, timidly. “He's afraid of nothing.” - -“Except ghosts,” remarked her daughter, softly. - -“Hold your tongue, miss,” said her father, twisting his moustache. “No -sensible man is afraid of what doesn't exist.” - -“A lot of people believe they do, though,” said Mr. Farrer, breaking in. -“I heard the other night that old Smith's ghost has been seen again -swinging from the apple tree. Three people have seen it.” - -“Rubbish!” said the sergeant-major. - -“Maybe,” said the young man; “but I'll bet you, Mr. Ward, for all your -courage, that you won't go up there alone at twelve o'clock one night to -see.” - -“I thought I ordered you out of my house just now,” said the -sergeant-major, glaring at him. - -“Going into action,” said Mr. Farrer, pausing at the door, “is one thing -—you have to obey orders and you can't help yourself; but going to a -lonely cottage two miles off to see the ghost of a man that hanged -himself is another.” - -“Do you mean to say I'm afraid?” blustered the other. - -Mr. Farrer shook his head. “I don't say anything,” he remarked; “but -even a cockroach does a bit of thinking sometimes.” - -“Perhaps you'd like to go,” said the sergeant-major. - -“I don't mind,” said the young man; “and perhaps you'll think a little -better of me, Mr. Ward. If I do what you're afraid to do—” - -Mrs. Ward and her daughter flung themselves hastily between the -sergeant-major and his intended sacrifice. Mr. Farrer, pale but -determined, stood his ground. - -“I'll dare you to go up and spend a night there alone,” he said. - -“I'll dare you,” said the incensed warrior, weakly. - -“All right; I'll spend Wednesday night there,” said Mr. Farrer, “and -I'll come round on Thursday and let you know how I got on.” - -“I dare say,” said the other; “but I don't want you here, and, what's -more, I won't have you. You can go to Smith's cottage on Wednesday at -twelve o'clock if you like, and I'll go up any time between twelve and -three and make sure you're there. D'ye understand? I'll show you whether -I'm afraid or not.” - -“There's no reason for you to be afraid,” said Mr. Farrer. “I shall be -there to protect you. That's very different to being there alone, as I -shall be. But, of course, you can go up the next night by yourself, and -wait for me, if you like. If you like to prove your courage, I mean.” - -“When I want to be ordered about,” said the sergeant-major, in a -magnificent voice, “I'll let you know. Now go, before I do anything I -might be sorry for afterwards.” - -He stood at the door, erect as a ramrod, and watched the young man up -the road. His conversation at the supper-table that night related almost -entirely to puppy-dogs and the best way of training them. - -He kept a close eye upon his daughter for the next day or two, but human -nature has its limits. He tried to sleep one afternoon in his easy-chair -with one eye open, but the exquisite silence maintained by Miss Ward was -too much for it. A hum of perfect content arose from the feature below, -and five minutes later Miss Ward was speeding in search of Mr. Farrer. - -“I had to come, Ted,” she said, breathlessly, “because to-morrow's -Wednesday. I've got something to tell you, but I don't know whether I -ought to.” - -“Tell me and let me decide,” said Mr. Farrer, tenderly. - -“I—I'm so afraid you might be frightened,” said the girl. “I won't tell -you, but I'll give you a hint. If you see anything awful, don't be -frightened.” - -Mr. Farrer stroked her hand. “The only thing I'm afraid of is your -father,” he said, softly. - -“Oh!” said the girl, clasping her hands together. “You have guessed it.” - -“Guessed it?” said Mr. Farrer. - -Miss Ward nodded. “I happened to pass his door this morning,” she said, -in a low voice. “It was open a little way, and he was standing up and -measuring one of mother's nightgowns against his chest. I couldn't think -what he was doing it for at first.” - -Mr. Farrer whistled and his face hardened. - -“That's not fair play,” he said at last. “All right; I'll be ready for -him.” - -“He doesn't like to be put in the wrong,” said Miss Ward. “He wants to -prove that you haven't got any courage. He'd be disappointed if he found -you had.” - -“All right,” said Mr. Farrer again. “You're an angel for coming to tell -me.” - -“Father would call me something else, I expect,” said Miss Ward, with a -smile. “Good-bye. I want to get back before he wakes up.” - -She was back in her chair, listening to her father's slumbers, half an -hour before he awoke. - -“I'm making up for to-morrow night,” he said, opening his eyes suddenly. - -His daughter nodded. - -“Shows strength of will,” continued the sergeant-major, amiably. -“Wellington could go to sleep at any time by just willing it. I'm the -same way; I can go to sleep at five minutes' notice.” - -“It's a very useful gift,” said Miss Ward, piously, “very.” - -Mr. Ward had two naps the next day. He awoke from the second at -twelve-thirty a.m., and in a somewhat disagreeable frame of mind rose -and stretched himself. The house was very still. He took a small -brown-paper parcel from behind the sofa and, extinguishing the lamp, put -on his cap and opened the front door. - -If the house was quiet, the little street seemed dead. He closed the -door softly and stepped into the darkness. In terms which would have -been understood by “our army in Flanders” he execrated the forefathers, -the name, and the upbringing of Mr. Edward Farrer. - -Not a soul in the streets; not a light in a window. He left the little -town behind, passed the last isolated house on the road, and walked into -the greater blackness of a road between tall hedges. He had put on -canvas shoes with rubber soles, for the better surprise of Mr. Farrer, -and his own progress seemed to partake of a ghostly nature. Every ghost -story he had ever heard or read crowded into his memory. For the first -time in his experience even the idea of the company of Mr. Farrer seemed -better than no company at all. - -The night was so dark that he nearly missed the turning that led to the -cottage. For the first few yards he had almost to feel his way; then, -with a greater yearning than ever for the society of Mr. Farrer, he -straightened his back and marched swiftly and noiselessly towards the -cottage. - -It was a small, tumble-down place, set well back in an overgrown garden. -The sergeant-major came to a halt just before reaching the gate, and, -hidden by the hedge, unfastened his parcel and shook out his wife's best -nightgown. - -He got it over his head with some difficulty, and, with his arms in the -sleeves, tried in vain to get his big hands through the small, -lace-trimmed wristbands. Despite his utmost efforts he could only get -two or three fingers through, and after a vain search for his cap, which -had fallen off in the struggle, he made his way to the gate and stood -there waiting. It was at this moment that the thought occurred to him -that Mr. Farrer might have failed to keep the appointment. - -His knees trembled slightly and he listened anxiously for any sound from -the house. He rattled the gate and, standing with white arms -outstretched, waited. Nothing happened. He shook it again, and then, -pulling himself together, opened it and slipped into the garden. As he -did so a large bough which lay in the centre of the footpath -thoughtfully drew on one side to let him pass. - -Mr. Ward stopped suddenly and, with his gaze fixed on the bough, watched -it glide over the grass until it was swallowed up in the darkness. His -own ideas of frightening Mr. Farrer were forgotten, and in a dry, -choking voice he called loudly upon the name of that gentleman. - -He called two or three times, with no response, and then, in a state of -panic, backed slowly towards the gate with his eyes fixed on the house. -A loud crash sounded from somewhere inside, the door was flung violently -open, and a gruesome figure in white hopped out and squatted on the -step. - -It was evident to Sergeant-Major Ward that Mr. Farrer was not there, and -that no useful purpose could be served by remaining. It was clear that -the young man's courage had failed him, and, with grey head erect, -elbows working like the sails of a windmill, and the ends of the -nightgown streaming behind him, the sergeant-major bent his steps -towards home. - -He dropped into a walk after a time and looked carefully over his -shoulder. So far as he could see he was alone, but the silence and -loneliness were oppressive. He looked again, and, without stopping to -inquire whether his eyes had deceived him, broke into a run again. -Alternately walking and running, he got back to the town, and walked -swiftly along the streets to his house. Police-Constable Burgess, who -was approaching from the other direction, reached it at almost the same -moment, and, turning on his lantern, stood gaping with astonishment. -“Anything wrong?” he demanded. - -“Wrong?” panted the sergeant-major, trying to put a little surprise and -dignity into his voice. “No.” - -“I thought it was a lady walking in her sleep at first,” said the -constable. “A tall lady.” - -The sergeant-major suddenly became conscious of the nightgown. “I've -been—for a little walk,” he said, still breathing hard. “I felt a bit -chilly—so I—put this on.” - -“Suits you, too,” said the constable, stiffly. “But you Army men always -was a bit dressy. Now if I put that on I should look ridikerlous.” - -The door opened before Mr. Ward could reply, and revealed, in the light -of a bedroom candle, the astonished countenances of his wife and -daughter. - -“George!” exclaimed Mrs. Ward. - -“Father!” said Miss Ward. - -The sergeant-major tottered in and, gaining the front room, flung -himself into his arm-chair. A stiff glass of whisky and water, handed -him by his daughter, was swallowed at a gulp. - -“Did you go?” inquired Mrs. Ward, clasping her hands. - -The sergeant-major, fully conscious of the suspicions aroused by his -disordered appearance, rallied his faculties. “Not likely,” he said, -with a short laugh. “After I got outside I knew it was no good going -there to look for that young snippet. He'd no more think of going there -than he would of flying. I walked a little way down the road—for -exercise—and then strolled back.” - -“But—my nightgown?” said the wondering Mrs. Ward. - -“Put it on to frighten the constable,” said her husband. - -He stood up and allowed her to help him pull it off. His face was -flushed and his hair tousled, but the bright fierceness of his eye was -unquenched. In submissive silence she followed him to bed. - -He was up late next morning, and made but a poor breakfast. His -after-dinner nap was disturbed, and tea was over before he had regained -his wonted calm. An hour later the arrival of a dignified and -reproachful Mr. Farrer set him blazing again. - -“I have come to see you about last night,” said Mr. Farrer, before the -other could speak. “A joke's a joke, but when you said you would come I -naturally expected you would keep your word.” - -“Keep my word?” repeated the sergeant-major, almost choking with wrath. - -“I stayed there in that lonely cottage from twelve to three, as per -agreement, waiting for you,” said Mr. Farrer. - -“You were not there,” shouted the sergeant-major. - -“How do you know?” inquired the other. - -The sergeant-major looked round helplessly at his wife and daughter. - -“Prove it,” said Mr. Farrer, pushing his advantage. “You questioned my -courage, and I stayed there three hours. Where were you?” - -“You were not there,” said the sergeant-major. “I know. You can't bluff -me. You were afraid.” - -“I was there, and I'll swear it,” said Mr. Farrer. “Still, there's no -harm done. I'll go there again to-night, and I'll dare you to come for -me?” - -“Dare?” said the sergeant-major, choking. “Dare?” - -“Dare,” repeated the other; “and if you don't come this time I'll spread -it all over Marcham. To-morrow night you can go there and wait for me. -If you see what I saw—” - -“Oh, Ted!” said Miss Ward, with a shiver. “Saw?” said the -sergeant-major, starting. “Nothing harmful,” said Mr. Farrer, calmly. - -“As a matter of fact, it was very interesting.” - -“What was?” demanded the sergeant-major. - -“It sounds rather silly, as a matter of fact,” said Mr. Farrer, slowly. -“Still, I did see a broken bough moving about the garden.” - -Mr. Ward regarded him open-mouthed. - -“Anything else?” he inquired, in a husky voice. - -“A figure in white,” said Mr. Farrer, “with long waving arms, hopping -about like a frog. I don't suppose you believe me, but if you come -to-night perhaps you'll see it yourself. It's very interesting. - -“Wer—weren't you frightened?” inquired the staring Mrs. Ward. - -Mr. Farrer shook his head. “It would take more than that to frighten -me,” he said, simply. “I should be ashamed of myself to be afraid of a -poor thing like that. It couldn't do me any harm.” - -“Did you see its face?” inquired Mrs. Ward, nervously. - -Mr. Farrer shook his head. - -“What sort of a body had it got?” said her daughter. - -“So far as I could see, very good,” said Mr. Farrer. “Very good figure -—not tall, but well made.” - -An incredible suspicion that had been forming in the sergeant-major's -mind began to take shape. “Did you see anything else?” he asked, -sharply. - -“One more,” said Mr. Farrer, regarding him pleasantly. “One I call the -Running Ghost.” - -“Run—” began the sergeant-major, and stopped suddenly. - -“It came in at the front gate,” pursued Mr. Farrer. “A tall, well-knit -figure of martial bearing—much about your height, Mr. Ward—with a -beautiful filmy white robe down to its knees—” - -He broke off in mild surprise, and stood gazing at Miss Ward, who, with -her handkerchief to her mouth, was rocking helplessly in her chair. - -“Knees,” he repeated, quietly. “It came slowly down the path, and half -way to the house it stopped, and in a frightened sort of voice called -out my name. I was surprised, naturally, but before I could get to it—to -reassure it—” - -“That'll do,” said the sergeant-major, rising hastily and drawing -himself up to his full height. - -“You asked me,” said Mr. Farrer, in an aggrieved voice. - -“I know I did,” said the sergeant-major, breathing heavily. “I know I -did; but if I sit here listening to any more of your lies I shall be -ill. The best thing you can do is to take that giggling girl out and -give her a breath of fresh air. I have done with her.” - - - - -EASY MONEY - - - - -A lad of about twenty stepped ashore from the schooner Jane, and joining -a girl, who had been avoiding for some ten minutes the ardent gaze of -the night-watchman, set off arm-in-arm. The watchman rolled his eyes and -shook his head slowly. - -Nearly all his money on 'is back, he said, and what little bit 'e's got -over he'll spend on 'er. And three months arter they're married he'll -wonder wot 'e ever saw in her. If a man marries he wishes he 'adn't, and -if he doesn't marry he wishes he 'ad. That's life. - -Looking at them two young fools reminds me of a nevy of Sam Small's; a -man I think I've spoke to you of afore. As a rule Sam didn't talk much -about 'is relations, but there was a sister of 'is in the country wot 'e -was rather fond of because 'e 'adn't seen 'er for twenty years. She 'ad -got a boy wot 'ad just got a job in London, and when 'e wrote and told -'er he was keeping company with the handsomest and loveliest and best -'arted gal in the whole wide world, she wrote to Sam about it and asked -'im to give 'is nevy some good advice. - -Sam 'ad just got back from China and was living with Peter Russet and -Ginger Dick as usual, and arter reading the letter about seven times and -asking Ginger how 'e spelt “minx,” 'e read the letter out loud to them -and asked 'em what they thought about it. - -Ginger shook his 'ead, and, arter thinking a bit, Peter shook his too. - -“She's caught 'im rather young,” ses Ginger. - -“They get it bad at that age too,” ses Peter. “When I was twenty, there -was a gal as I was fond of, and a regiment couldn't ha' parted us.” - -“Wot did part you then?” ses Sam. - -“Another gal,” ses Peter; “a gal I took a fancy to, that's wot did it.” - -“I was nearly married when I was twenty,” ses Ginger, with a far-away -look in his eyes. “She was the most beautiful gal I ever saw in my life; -she 'ad one 'undred pounds a year of 'er own and she couldn't bear me -out of her sight. If a thump acrost the chest would do that cough of -yours any good, Sam—” - -“Don't take no notice of 'im, Ginger,” ses Peter. “Why didn't you marry -'er?” - -“'Cos I was afraid she might think I was arter 'er money,” ses Ginger, -getting a little bit closer to Sam. - -Peter 'ad another turn then, and him and Ginger kept on talking about -gals whose 'arts they 'ad broke till Sam didn't know what to do with -'imself. - -“I'll just step round and see my nevy, while you and Peter are amusing -each other,” he ses at last. “I'll ask 'im to come round to-morrow and -then you can give 'im good advice.” - -The nevy came round next evening. Bright, cheerful young chap 'e was, -and he agreed with everything they said. When Peter said as 'ow all gals -was deceivers, he said he'd known it for years, but they was born that -way and couldn't 'elp it; and when Ginger said that no man ought to -marry afore he was fifty, he corrected 'im and made it fifty-five. - -“I'm glad to 'ear you talk like that,” ses Ginger. - -“So am I,” ses Peter. - -“He's got his 'ead screwed on right,” ses Sam, wot thought his sister -'ad made a mistake. - -“I'm surprised when I look round at the wimmen men 'ave married,” ses -the nevy; “wot they could 'ave seen in them I can't think. Me and my -young lady often laugh about it.” - -“Your wot?” ses Sam, pretending to be very surprised. - -“My young lady,” ses the nevy. - -Sam gives a cough. “I didn't know you'd got a young lady,” he ses. - -“Well, I 'ave,” ses his nevy, “and we're going to be married at -Christmas.” - -“But—but you ain't fifty-five,” ses Ginger. - -“I'm twenty-one,” ses the nevy, “but my case is different. There isn't -another young lady like mine in the world. She's different to all the -others, and it ain't likely I'm going to let 'er be snapped up by -somebody else. Fifty-five! Why, 'ow I'm to wait till Christmas I don't -know. She's the prettiest and handsomest gal in the world; and she's the -cleverest one I ever met. You ought to hear 'er laugh. Like music it is. -You'd never forget it.” - -“Twenty-one is young,” ses Ginger, shaking his 'ead. “'Ave you known 'er -long?” - -“Three months,” ses the nevy. “She lives in the same street as I do. 'Ow -it is she ain't been snapped up before, I can't think, but she told me -that she didn't care for men till she saw me.” - -“They all say that,” ses Ginger. - -“If I've 'ad it said to me once, I've 'ad it said twenty times,” ses -Peter, nodding. - -“They do it to flatter,” ses old Sam, looking as if 'e knew all about -it. “You wait till you are my age, Joe; then you'll know; why I should -ha' been married dozens o' times if I 'adn't been careful.” - -“P'r'aps it was a bit on both sides,” ses Joe, looking at 'is uncle. -“P'r'aps they was careful too. If you only saw my young lady, you -wouldn't talk like that. She's got the truthfullest eyes in the world. -Large grey eyes like a child's, leastways sometimes they are grey and -sometimes they are blue. It seems to depend on the light somehow; I 'ave -seen them when they was a brown-brownish-gold. And she smiles with 'er -eyes.” - -“Hasn't she got a mouth?” ses Ginger, wot was getting a bit tired of it. - -“You've been crossed in love,” ses the nevy, staring at 'im. “That's -wot's the matter with you. And looking at you, I don't wonder at it.” - -Ginger 'arf got up, but Sam gave him a look and 'e sat down agin, and -then they all sat quiet while the nevy went on telling them about 'is -gal. - -“I should like to see 'er,” ses his uncle at last. - -“Call round for me at seven to-morrow night,” ses the young 'un, “and -I'll introduce you.” - -“We might look in on our way,” ses Sam, arter Ginger and Peter 'ad both -made eyes at 'im. “We're going out to spend the evening.” - -“The more the merrier,” ses his nevy. “Well, so long; I expect she's -waiting for me.” - -He got up and said good-bye, and arter he 'ad gorn, Sam and the other -two shook their leads together and said what a pity it was to be -twenty-one. Ginger said it made 'im sad to think of it, and Peter said -'ow any gal could look at a man under thirty, 'e couldn't think. - -They all went round to the nevy's the next evening. They was a little -bit early owing to Ginger's watch 'aving been set right by guess-work, -and they 'ad to sit in a row on the nevy's bed waiting while 'e cleaned -'imself, and changed his clothes. Although it was only Wednesday 'e -changed his collar, and he was so long making up 'is mind about his -necktie that 'is uncle tried to make it up for him. By the time he 'ad -finished Sam said it made 'im think it was Sunday. - -Miss Gill was at 'ome when they got there, and all three of 'em was very -much surprised that such a good-looking gal should take up with Sam's -nevy. Ginger nearly said so, but Peter gave 'im a dig in the back just -in time and 'e called him something under 'is breath instead. - -“Why shouldn't we all make an evening of it?” ses Ginger, arter they 'ad -been talking for about ten minutes, and the nevy 'ad looked at the clock -three or four times. - -“Because two's company,” ses Mrs. Gill. “Why you was young yourself -once. Can't you remember?” - -“He's young now, mother,” ses the gal, giving Ginger a nice smile. - -“I tell you wot we might do,” ses Mrs. Gill, putting 'er finger to her -forehead and considering. “You and Joe go out and 'ave your evening, and -me and these gentlemen'll go off together somewhere. I shall enjoy an -outing; I ain't 'ad one for a long time.” - -Ginger said it would be very nice if she thought it wouldn't make 'er -too tired, and afore Sam or Peter could think of anything to say, she -was upstairs putting 'er bonnet on. They thought o' plenty to say while -they was sitting alone with Ginger waiting for 'er. - -“My idea was for the gal and your nevy to come too,” ses pore Ginger. -“Then I thought we might lose 'im and I would 'ave a little chat with -the gal, and show 'er 'ow foolish she was.” - -“Well, you've done it now,” ses Sam. “Spoilt our evening.” - -“P'r'aps good will come out of it,” ses Ginger. “If the old lady takes a -fancy to us we shall be able to come agin, and then to please you, Sam, -I'll have a go to cut your nevy out.” - -Sam stared at 'im, and Peter stared too, and then they looked at each -other and began to laugh till Ginger forgot where 'e was and offered to -put Sam through the winder. They was still quarrelling under their -breath and saying wot they'd like to do to each other when Mrs. Gill -came downstairs. Dressed up to the nines she was, and they walked down -the street with a feeling that everybody was looking at em. - -One thing that 'elped to spoil the evening was that Mrs. Gill wouldn't -go into public'ouses, but to make up for it she went into sweet-stuff -shops three times and 'ad ices while they stood and watched 'er and -wondered 'ow she could do it. And arter that she stopped at a place -Poplar way, where there was a few swings and roundabouts and things. She -was as skittish as a school-gal, and arter taking pore Sam on the -roundabout till 'e didn't know whether he was on his 'eels or his 'ead, -she got 'im into a boat-swing and swung 'im till he felt like a boy on -'is fust v'y'ge. Arter that she took 'im to the rifle gallery, and afore -he had 'ad three shots the man took the gun away from 'im and threatened -to send for the police. - -It was an expensive evening for all of them, but as Ginger said when -they got 'ome they 'ad broken the ice, and he bet Peter Russet 'arf a -dollar that afore two days 'ad passed he'd take the nevy's gal for a -walk. He stepped round by 'imself the next arternoon and made 'imself -agreeable to Mrs. Gill, and the day arter they was both so nice and kind -that 'e plucked up 'is courage and offered to take Miss Gill to the Zoo. - -She said “No” at fust, of course, but arter Ginger 'ad pointed out that -Joe was at work all day and couldn't take 'er 'imself, and that 'e was -Joe's uncle's best pal, she began to think better of it. - -“Why not?” ses her mother. “Joe wouldn't mind. He wouldn't be so silly -as to be jealous o' Mr. Ginger Dick.” - -“Of course not,” ses the gal. “There's nothing to be jealous of.” - -She let 'er mother and Ginger persuade 'er arter a time, and then she -went upstairs to clean herself, and put on a little silver brooch that -Ginger said he 'ad picked up coming along. - -She took about three-quarters of an hour to get ready, but when she came -down, Ginger felt that it was quite worth it. He couldn't take 'is eyes -off 'er, as the saying goes, and 'e sat by 'er side on the top of the -omnibus like a man in a dream. - -“This is better than being at sea,” he ses at last. - -“Don't you like the sea?” ses the gal. “I should like to go to sea -myself.” - -“I shouldn't mind the sea if you was there,” ses Ginger. - -Miss Gill turned her 'ead away. “You mustn't talk to me like that,” she -ses in a soft voice. “Still—” - -“Still wot?” ses Ginger, arter waiting a long time. - -“I mean, if I did go to sea, it would be nice to have a friend on -board,” she ses. “I suppose you ain't afraid of storms, are you?” - -“I like 'em,” ses Ginger. - -“You look as if you would,” ses the gal, giving 'im a little look under -'er eyelashes. “It must be nice to be a man and be brave. I wish I was a -man.” - -“I don't,” ses Ginger. - -“Why not?” ses the gal, turning her 'ead away agin. - -Ginger didn't answer, he gave 'er elbow a little squeeze instead. She -took it away at once, and Ginger was just wishing he 'adn't been so -foolish, when it came back agin, and they sat for a long time without -speaking a word. - -“The sea is all right for some things,” ses Ginger at last, “but suppose -a man married!” - -The gal shook her 'ead. “It would be hard on 'is wife,” she ses, with -another little look at 'im, “but—but——” - -Ginger pinched 'er elbow agin. - -“But p'r'aps he could get a job ashore,” she ses, “and then he could -take his wife out for a bus-ride every day.” - -They 'ad to change buses arter a time, and they got on a wrong bus and -went miles out o' their way, but neither of 'em seemed to mind. Ginger -said he was thinking of something else, and the gal said she was too. -They got to the Zoological Gardens at last, and Ginger said he 'ad never -enjoyed himself so much. When the lions roared she squeezed his arm, and -when they 'ad an elephant ride she was holding on to 'im with both -'ands. - -“I am enjoying myself,” she ses, as Ginger 'elped her down and said -“whoa” to the elephant. “I know it's wicked, but I can't 'elp it, and -wot's more, I'm afraid I don't want to 'elp it.” - -She let Ginger take 'er arm when she nearly tripped up over a peppermint -ball some kid 'ad dropped; and, arter a little persuasion, she 'ad a -bottle of lemonade and six bath-buns at a refreshment stall for dinner. - -She was as nice as she could be to him, but by the time they started for -'ome, she 'ad turned so quiet that Ginger began to think 'e must 'ave -offended 'er in some way. - -“Are you tired?” he ses. - -“No,” ses the gal, shaking her 'ead, “I've enjoyed myself very much.” - -“I thought you seemed a bit tired,” ses Ginger, arter waiting a long -time. - -“I'm not tired,” ses the gal, giving 'im a sad sort o' little smile, -“but I'm a little bit worried, that's all.” - -“Worried?” ses Ginger, very tender. “Wot's worrying you?” - -“Oh, I can't tell you,” ses Miss Gill. “It doesn't matter; I'll try and -cheer up. Wot a lovely day it is, isn't it? I shall remember it all my -life.” - -“Wot is it worrying you?” ses Ginger, in a determined voice. “Can't you -tell me?” - -“No,” ses the gal, shaking her 'ead, “I can't tell you because you might -want to 'elp me, and I couldn't allow that.” - -“Why shouldn't I 'elp you?” ses Ginger. “It's wot we was put 'ere for: -to 'elp one another.” - -“I couldn't tell you,” ses the gal, just dabbing at'er eyes—with a lace -pocket-'ankercher about one and a 'arf times the size of 'er nose. - -“Not if I ask you to?” ses Ginger. - -Miss Gill shook 'er 'ead, and then she tried her 'ardest to turn the -conversation. She talked about the weather, and the monkey-'ouse, and a -gal in 'er street whose 'air changed from red to black in a single -night; but it was all no good, Ginger wouldn't be put off, and at last -she ses— - -“Well,” she ses, “if you must know, I'm in a difficulty; I 'ave got to -get three pounds, and where to get it I don't know any more than the man -in the moon. Now let's talk about something else.” - -“Do you owe it?” ses Ginger. - -“I can't tell you any more,” ses Miss Gill, “and I wouldn't 'ave told -you that only you asked me, and somehow I feel as though I 'ave to tell -you things, when you want me to.” - -“Three pounds ain't much,” ses pore Ginger, wot 'ad just been paid off -arter a long v'y'ge. “I can let you 'ave it and welcome.” - -Miss Gill started away from 'im as though she 'ad been stung, and it -took 'im all his time to talk 'er round agin. When he 'ad she begged 'is -pardon and said he was the most generous man she 'ad ever met, but it -couldn't be. - -“I don't know when I could pay it back,” she ses, “but I thank you all -the same for offering it.” - -“Pay it back when you like,” ses Ginger, “and if you never pay it back, -it don't matter.” - -He offered 'er the money four or five times, but she wouldn't take it, -but at last just as they got near her 'ouse he forced it in her 'and, -and put his own 'ands in his pockets when she tried to make 'im take it -back. - -“You are good to me,” she ses arter they 'ad gone inside and 'er mother -'ad gone upstairs arter giving Ginger a bottle o' beer to amuse 'imself -with; “I shall never forget you. Never.” - -“I 'ope not,” ses Ginger, starting. “Are you coming out agin to-morrow?” - -“I'm afraid I can't,” ses Miss Gill, shaking her 'ead and looking -sorrowful. - -“Not with me?” ses Ginger, sitting down beside her on the sofa and -putting 'is arm so that she could lean against it if she wanted to. - -“I don't think I can,” ses the gal, leaning back very gentle. - -“Think agin,” ses Ginger, squeezing 'er waist a little. - -Miss Gill shook her 'ead, and then turned and looked at 'im. Her face -was so close to his, that, thinking that she 'ad put it there a-purpose, -he kissed it, and the next moment 'e got a clout that made his 'ead -ring. - -“'Ow dare you!” she ses, jumping up with a scream. “'Ow dare you! 'Ow -dare——” - -“Wot's the matter?” ses her mother, coming downstairs like a runaway -barrel of treacle. - -“He—he's insulted me,” ses Miss Gill, taking out her little 'ankercher -and sobbing. “He—k-kissed me!” - -“WOT!” ses Mrs. Gill. “Well, I'd never 'ave believed it! Never! Why 'e -ought to be taken up. Wot d'ye mean by it?” she ses, turning on pore -Ginger. - -Ginger tried to explain, but it was all no good, and two minutes -arterwards 'e was walking back to 'is lodgings like a dog with its tail -between its legs. His 'ead was going round and round with astonishment, -and 'e was in such a temper that 'e barged into a man twice as big as -himself and then offered to knock his 'ead off when 'e objected. And -when Sam and Peter asked him 'ow he 'ad got on, he was in such a state -of mind it was all 'e could do to answer 'em. - -“And I'll trouble you for my 'arf dollar, Peter,” he ses; “I've been out -with 'er all day, and I've won my bet.” - -Peter paid it over like a lamb, and then 'e sat thinking 'ard for a bit. - -“Are you going out with 'er agin to-morrow, Ginger?” he ses, arter a -time. - -“I don't know,” ses Ginger, careless-like, “I ain't made up my mind -yet.” - -Peter looked at 'im and then 'e looked at Sam and winked. “Let me 'ave a -try,” he ses; “I'll bet you another 'arf dollar that I take 'er out. -P'r'aps I shall come 'ome in a better temper than wot you 'ave.” - -Old Sam said it wasn't right to play with a gal's 'art in that way, but -arter a lot o' talking and telling Sam to shut up, Ginger took the bet. -He was quite certain in his own mind that Miss Gill would slam the door -in Peter's face, and arter he 'ad started off next morning, Ginger and -Sam waited in to 'ave the pleasure of laughing in 'is face. - -They got tired of waiting at last, and went out to enjoy themselves, and -breathe the fresh air in a pub down Poplar way. They got back at seven -o'clock, and ten minutes arterwards Peter came in and sat down on his -bed and began to smoke without a word. - -“Had a good time?” ses Ginger. - -“Rippin',” ses Peter, holding 'is pipe tight between 'is teeth. “You owe -me 'arf a dollar, Ginger.” - -“Where'd you go?” ses Ginger, passing it over. - -“Crystal Pallis,” ses Peter. - -“Are you going to take 'er out to-morrow?” ses Sam. - -“I don't think so,” ses Peter, taking 'is pipe out of 'is mouth and -yawning. “She's rather too young for me; I like talking to gals wot's a -bit older. I won't stand in Ginger's way.” - -“I found 'er a bit young too,” ses Ginger. “P'r'aps we'd better let -Sam's nevy 'ave 'er. Arter all it's a bit rough on 'im when you come to -think of it.” - -“You're quite right,” ses Peter, jumping up. “It's Sam's business, and -why we should go out of our way and inconvenience ourselves to do 'im a -good turn, I don't know.” - -“It's Sam all over,” ses Ginger; “he's always been like that, and the -more you try to oblige 'im, the more you may.” - -They went on abusing Sam till he got sick and tired of it, and arter -telling 'em wot he thought of 'em he slammed the door and went out and -spent the evening by 'imself. He would 'ardly speak to them next day, -but arter tea he brightened up a bit and they went off together as if -nothing 'ad happened, and the fust thing they saw as they turned out of -their street was Sam's nevy coming along smiling till it made their -faces ache to look at him. - -“I was just coming to see you,” he ses. - -“We're just off on business,” ses Ginger. - -“I wasn't going to stop,” ses the nevy; “my young lady just told me to -step along and show uncle wot she has bought me. A silver watch and -chain and a gold ring. Look at it!” - -He held his 'and under Ginger's nose, and Ginger stood there looking at -it and opening and shutting 'is mouth like a dying fish. Then he took -Peter by the arm and led'im away while the nevy was opening 'is new -watch and showing Sam the works. - -“'Ow much did she get out of you, Peter?” ses Ginger, looking at 'im -very hard. “I don't want any lies.” - -“Three quid,” ses Peter, staring at 'im. - -“Same 'ere,” ses Ginger, grinding his teeth. “Did she give you a smack -on the side of your face?” - -“Wot—are—you—talking about, Ginger?” ses Peter. - -“Did she smack your face too?” ses Ginger. - -“Yes,” ses Peter. - - - - -HIS OTHER SELF - - - - -They're as like as two peas, him and 'is brother,” said the -night-watchman, gazing blandly at the indignant face of the lighterman -on the barge below; “and the on'y way I know this one is Sam is because -Bill don't use bad langwidge. Twins they are, but the likeness is only -outside; Bill's 'art is as white as snow.” - -He cut off a plug of tobacco, and, placing it in his cheek, waited -expectantly. - -“White as snow,” he repeated. - -“That's me,” said the lighterman, as he pushed his unwieldy craft from -the jetty. “I'll tell Sam your opinion of 'im. So long.” - -The watchman went a shade redder than usual. That's twins all over, he -said, sourly, always deceiving people. It's Bill arter all, and, instead -of hurting 'is feelings, I've just been flattering of 'im up. - -It ain't the fust time I've 'ad trouble over a likeness. I've been a -twin myself in a manner o' speaking. It didn't last long, but it lasted -long enough for me to always be sorry for twins, and to make a lot of -allowance for them. It must be very 'ard to have another man going about -with your face on 'is shoulders, and getting it into trouble. - -It was a year or two ago now. I was sitting one evening at the gate, -smoking a pipe and looking at a newspaper I 'ad found in the office, -when I see a gentleman coming along from the swing-bridge. Well-dressed, -clean-shaved chap 'e was, smoking a cigarette. He was walking slow and -looking about 'im casual-like, until his eyes fell on me, when he gave a -perfect jump of surprise, and, arter looking at me very 'ard, walked on -a little way and then turned back. He did it twice, and I was just going -to say something to 'im, something that I 'ad been getting ready for -'im, when he spoke to me. - -“Good evening,” he ses. - -“Good evening,” I ses, folding the paper over and looking at 'im rather -severe. - -“I hope you'll excuse me staring,” he ses, very perlite; “but I've never -seen such a face and figger as yours in all my life—never.” - -“Ah, you ought to ha' seen me a few years ago,” I ses. “I'm like -everybody else—I'm getting on.” - -“Rubbish!” he ses. “You couldn't be better if you tried. It's -marvellous! Wonderful! It's the very thing I've been looking for. Why, -if you'd been made to order you couldn't ha' been better.” - -I thought at fust he was by way of trying to get a drink out o' me—I've -been played that game afore—but instead o' that he asked me whether I'd -do 'im the pleasure of 'aving one with 'im. - -We went over to the Albion, and I believe I could have 'ad it in a pail -if I'd on'y liked to say the word. And all the time I was drinking he -was looking me up and down, till I didn't know where to look, as the -saying is. - -“I came down 'ere to look for somebody like you,” he ses, “but I never -dreamt I should have such luck as this. I'm an actor, and I've got to -play the part of a sailor, and I've been worried some time 'ow to make -up for the part. D'ye understand?” - -“No,” I ses, looking at 'im. - -“I want to look the real thing,” he ses, speaking low so the landlord -shouldn't hear. “I want to make myself the living image of you. If that -don't fetch 'em I'll give up the stage and grow cabbages.” - -“Make yourself like me?” I ses. “Why, you're no more like me than I'm -like a sea-sick monkey.” - -“Not so much,” he ses. “That's where the art comes in.” - -He stood me another drink, and then, taking my arm in a cuddling sort o' -way, and calling me “Dear boy,” 'e led me back to the wharf and -explained. He said 'e would come round next evening with wot 'e called -his make-up box, and paint 'is face and make 'imself up till people -wouldn't know one from the other. - -“And wot about your figger?” I ses, looking at 'im. - -“A cushion,” he ses, winking, “or maybe a couple. And what about -clothes? You'll 'ave to sell me those you've got on. Hat and all. And -boots.” - -I put a price on 'em that I thought would 'ave finished 'im then and -there, but it didn't. And at last, arter paying me so many more -compliments that they began to get into my 'ead, he fixed up a meeting -for the next night and went off. - -“And mind,” he ses, coming back, “not a word to a living soul!” - -He went off agin, and, arter going to the Bull's Head and 'aving a pint -to clear my 'ead, I went and sat down in the office and thought it over. -It seemed all right to me as far as I could see; but p'r'aps the pint -didn't clear my 'ead enough—p'r'aps I ought to 'ave 'ad two pints. - -I lay awake best part of next day thinking it over, and when I got up I -'ad made up my mind. I put my clothes in a sack, and then I put on some -others as much like 'em as possible, on'y p'r'aps a bit older, in case -the missis should get asking questions; and then I sat wondering 'ow to -get out with the sack without 'er noticing it. She's got a very -inquiring mind, and I wasn't going to tell her any lies about it. -Besides which I couldn't think of one. - -I got out at last by playing a game on her. I pertended to drop 'arf a -dollar in the washus, and while she was busy on 'er hands and knees I -went off as comfortable as you please. - -I got into the office with it all right, and, just as it was getting -dark, a cab drove up to the wharf and the actor-chap jumped out with a -big leather bag. I took 'im into the private office, and 'e was so ready -with 'is money for the clothes that I offered to throw the sack in. - -He changed into my clothes fust of all, and then, asking me to sit down -in front of 'im, he took a looking-glass and a box out of 'is bag and -began to alter 'is face. Wot with sticks of coloured paint, and false -eyebrows, and a beard stuck on with gum and trimmed with a pair o' -scissors, it was more like a conjuring trick than anything else. Then 'e -took a wig out of 'is bag and pressed it on his 'ead, put on the cap, -put some black stuff on 'is teeth, and there he was. We both looked into -the glass together while 'e gave the finishing touches, and then he -clapped me on the back and said I was the handsomest sailorman in -England. - -“I shall have to make up a bit 'eavier when I'm behind the floats,” he -ses; “but this is enough for 'ere. Wot do you think of the imitation of -your voice? I think I've got it exact.” - -“If you ask me,” I ses, “it sounds like a poll-parrot with a cold in the -'ead.” - -“And now for your walk,” he ses, looking as pleased as if I'd said -something else. “Come to the door and see me go up the wharf.” - -I didn't like to hurt 'is feelings, but I thought I should ha' bust. He -walked up that wharf like a dancing-bear in a pair of trousers too tight -for it, but 'e was so pleased with 'imself that I didn't like to tell -'im so. He went up and down two or three times, and I never saw anything -so ridikerlous in my life. - -“That's all very well for us,” he ses; “but wot about other people? -That's wot I want to know. I'll go and 'ave a drink, and see whether -anybody spots me.” - -Afore I could stop 'im he started off to the Bull's Head and went in, -while I stood outside and watched 'im. - -“'Arf a pint o' four ale,” he ses, smacking down a penny. - -I see the landlord draw the beer and give it to 'im, but 'e didn't seem -to take no notice of 'im. Then, just to open 'is eyes a bit, I walked in -and put down a penny and asked for a 'arf-pint. - -The landlord was just wiping down the counter at the time, and when I -gave my order he looked up and stood staring at me with the wet cloth -'eld up in the air. He didn't say a word—not a single word. He stood -there for a moment smiling at us foolish-like, and then 'e let go o' the -beer-injin, wot 'e was 'olding in 'is left hand, and sat down heavy on -the bar floor. We both put our 'eads over the counter to see wot had -'appened to 'im, and 'e started making the most 'orrible noise I 'ave -ever heard in my life. I wonder it didn't bring the fire-injins. The -actor-chap bolted out as if he'd been shot, and I was just thinking of -follering 'im when the landlord's wife and 'is two daughters came -rushing out and asking me wot I 'ad done to him. - -“There—there—was two of 'im!” ses the landlord, trembling and holding on -to 'is wife's arm, as they helped 'im up and got 'im in the chair. “Two -of 'im!” - -“Two of wot?” ses his wife. - -“Two—two watchmen,” ses the landlord; “both exac'ly alike and both -asking for 'arf a pint o' four ale.” - -“Yes, yes,” ses 'is wife. - -“You come and lay down, pa,” ses the gals. “I tell you there was,” ses -the landlord, getting 'is colour back, with temper. - -“Yes, yes; I know all about it,” ses 'is wife. “You come inside for a -bit; and, Gertie, you bring your father in a soda—a large soda.” - -They got 'im in arter a lot o' trouble; but three times 'e came back as -far as the door, 'olding on to them, and taking a little peep at me. The -last time he shook his 'ead at me, and said if I did it agin I could go -and get my 'arf-pints somewhere else. - -I finished the beer wot the actor 'ad left, and, arter telling the -landlord I 'oped his eyesight 'ud be better in the morning, I went -outside, and arter a careful look round walked back to the wharf. - -I pushed the wicket open a little way and peeped in. The actor was -standing just by the fust crane talking to two of the hands off of the -Saltram. He'd got 'is back to the light, but 'ow it was they didn't twig -his voice I can't think. - -They was so busy talking that I crept along by the side of the wall and -got to the office without their seeing me. I went into the private -office and turned out the gas there, and sat down to wait for 'im. Then -I 'eard a noise outside that took me to the door agin and kept me there, -'olding on to the door-post and gasping for my breath. The cook of the -Saltram was sitting on a paraffin-cask playing the mouth-orgin, and the -actor, with 'is arms folded across his stummick, was dancing a horn-pipe -as if he'd gorn mad. - -I never saw anything so ridikerlous in my life, and when I recollected -that they thought it was me, I thought I should ha' dropped. - -A night-watchman can't be too careful, and I knew that it 'ud be all -over Wapping next morning that I 'ad been dancing to a tuppenny-ha'penny -mouth-orgin played by a ship's cook. A man that does 'is dooty always -has a lot of people ready to believe the worst of 'im. - -I went back into the dark office and waited, and by and by I 'eard them -coming along to the gate and patting 'im on the back and saying he ought -to be in a pantermime instead o' wasting 'is time night-watching. He -left 'em at the gate, and then 'e came into the office smiling as if -he'd done something clever. - -“Wot d'ye think of me for a understudy?” he ses, laughing. “They all -thought it was you. There wasn't one of 'em 'ad the slightest suspicion -—not one.” - -“And wot about my character?” I ses, folding my arms acrost my chest and -looking at him. - -“Character?” he ses, staring. “Why, there's no 'arm in dancing; it's a -innercent enjoyment.” - -“It ain't one o' my innercent enjoyments,” I ses, “and I don't want to -get the credit of it. If they hadn't been sitting in a pub all the -evening they'd 'ave spotted you at once.” - -“Oh!” he ses, very huffy. “How?” - -“Your voice,” I ses. “You try and mimic a poll-parrot, and think it's -like me. And, for another thing, you walk about as though you're stuffed -with sawdust.” - -“I beg your pardon,” he ses; “the voice and the walk are exact. Exact.” - -“Wot?” I ses, looking 'im up and down. “You stand there and 'ave the -impudence to tell me that my voice is like that?” - -“I do,” he ses. - -“Then I'm sorry for you,” I ses. “I thought you'd got more sense.” - -He stood looking at me and gnawing 'is finger, and by and by he ses, -“Are you married?” he ses. - -“I am,” I ses, very short. - -“Where do you live?” he ses. - -I told 'im. - -“Very good,” he ses; “p'r'aps I'll be able to convince you arter all. By -the way, wot do you call your wife? Missis?” - -“Yes,” I ses, staring at him. “But wot's it got to do with you?” - -“Nothing,” he ses. “Nothing. Only I'm going to try the poll-parrot voice -and the sawdust walk on her, that's all. If I can deceive 'er that'll -settle it.” - -“Deceive her?” I ses. “Do you think I'm going to let you go round to my -'ouse and get me into trouble with the missis like that? Why, you must -be crazy; that dancing must 'ave got into your 'ead.” - -“Where's the 'arm?” he ses, very sulky. - -“'Arm?” I ses. “I won't 'ave it, that's all; and if you knew my missis -you'd know without any telling.” - -“I'll bet you a pound to a sixpence she wouldn't know me,” he ses, very -earnest. - -“She won't 'ave the chance,” I ses, “so that's all about it.” - -He stood there argufying for about ten minutes; but I was as firm as a -rock. I wouldn't move an inch, and at last, arter we was both on the -point of losing our tempers, he picked up his bag and said as 'ow he -must be getting off 'ome. - -“But ain't you going to take those things off fust?” I ses. - -“No,” he ses, smiling. “I'll wait till I get 'ome. Ta-ta.” - -He put 'is bag on 'is shoulder and walked to the gate, with me follering -of 'im. - -“I expect I shall see a cab soon,” he ses. “Good-bye.” - -“Wot are you laughing at?” I ses. - -“On'y thoughts,” he ses. - -“'Ave you got far to go?' I ses. - -“No; just about the same distance as you 'ave,” he ses, and he went off -spluttering like a soda-water bottle. - -I took the broom and 'ad a good sweep-up arter he 'ad gorn, and I was -just in the middle of it when the cook and the other two chaps from the -Saltram came back, with three other sailormen and a brewer's drayman -they 'ad brought to see me DANCE! - -“Same as you did a little while ago, Bill,” ses the cook, taking out 'is -beastly mouth-orgin and wiping it on 'is sleeve. “Wot toon would you -like?” - -I couldn't get away from 'em, and when I told them I 'ad never danced in -my life the cook asked me where I expected to go to. He told the drayman -that I'd been dancing like a fairy in sea-boots, and they all got in -front of me and wouldn't let me pass. I lost my temper at last, and, -arter they 'ad taken the broom away from me and the drayman and one o' -the sailormen 'ad said wot they'd do to me if I was on'y fifty years -younger, they sheered off. - -I locked the gate arter 'em and went back to the office, and I 'adn't -been there above 'arf an hour when somebody started ringing the -gate-bell as if they was mad. I thought it was the cook's lot come back -at fust, so I opened the wicket just a trifle and peeped out. There was -a 'ansom-cab standing outside, and I 'ad hardly got my nose to the crack -when the actor-chap, still in my clothes, pushed the door open and -nipped in. - -“You've lost,” he ses, pushing the door to and smiling all over. -“Where's your sixpence?” - -“Lost?” I ses, hardly able to speak. “D'ye mean to tell me you've been -to my wife arter all—arter all I said to you?” - -“I do,” he ses, nodding, and smiling agin. “They were both deceived as -easy as easy.” - -“Both?” I ses, staring at 'im. “Both wot? 'Ow many wives d'ye think I've -got? Wot d'ye mean by it?” - -“Arter I left you,” he ses, giving me a little poke in the ribs, “I -picked up a cab and, fust leaving my bag at Aldgate, I drove on to your -'ouse and knocked at the door. I knocked twice, and then an -angry-looking woman opened it and asked me wot I wanted. - -“'It's all right, missis,' I ses. 'I've got 'arf an hour off, and I've -come to take you out for a walk.' - -“'Wot?' she ses, drawing back with a start. - -“'Just a little turn round to see the shops,' I ses; 'and if there's -anything particler you'd like and it don't cost too much, you shall 'ave -it.' - -“I thought at fust, from the way she took it, she wasn't used to you -giving 'er things. - -“'Ow dare you!' she ses. 'I'll 'ave you locked up. 'Ow dare you insult a -respectable married woman! You wait till my 'usband comes 'ome.' - -“'But I am your 'usband,' I ses. 'Don't you know me, my pretty? Don't -you know your pet sailor-boy?' - -“She gave a screech like a steam-injin, and then she went next door and -began knocking away like mad. Then I see that I 'ad gorn to number -twelve instead of number fourteen. Your wife, your real wife, came out -of number fourteen—and she was worse than the other. But they both -thought it was you—there's no doubt of that. They chased me all the way -up the road, and if it 'adn't ha' been for this cab that was just -passing I don't know wot would 'ave 'appened to me.” - -He shook his 'ead and smiled agin, and, arter opening the wicket a -trifle and telling the cabman he shouldn't be long, he turned to me and -asked me for the sixpence, to wear on his watch-chain. - -“Sixpence!” I ses. “SIXPENCE! Wot do you think is going to 'appen to me -when I go 'ome?” - -“Oh, I 'adn't thought o' that,” he ses. “Yes, o' course.” - -“Wot about my wife's jealousy?” I ses. “Wot about the other, and her -'usband, a cooper as big as a 'ouse?” - -“Well, well,” he ses, “one can't think of everything. It'll be all the -same a hundred years hence.” - -“Look 'ere,” I ses, taking 'is shoulder in a grip of iron. “You come -back with me now in that cab and explain. D'ye see? That's wot you've -got to do.” - -“All right,” he ses; “certainly. Is—is the husband bad-tempered?” - -“You'll see,” I ses; “but that's your business. Come along.” - -“With pleasure,” he ses, 'elping me in. “'Arf a mo' while I tell the -cabby where to drive to.” - -He went to the back o' the cab, and afore I knew wot had 'appened the -'orse had got a flick over the head with the whip and was going along at -a gallop. I kept putting the little flap up and telling the cabby to -stop, but he didn't take the slightest notice. Arter I'd done it three -times he kept it down so as I couldn't open it. - -There was a crowd round my door when the cab drove up, and in the middle -of it was my missis, the woman next door, and 'er husband, wot 'ad just -come 'ome. 'Arf a dozen of 'em helped me out, and afore I could say a -word the cabman drove off and left me there. - -I dream of it now sometimes: standing there explaining and explaining, -until, just as I feel I can't bear it any longer, two policemen come up -and 'elp me indoors. If they had 'elped my missis outside it would be a -easier dream to have. - - ―――― - - - - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NIGHT WATCHES *** - -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™ 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. 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