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Night Watches by W.W. Jacobs

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Produced by David Widger


by W.W. Jacobs.













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

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

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

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

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

I Got out at Last by Playing a Game on Her


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.

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

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

"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

"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

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,

"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

"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

"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

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

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

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

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

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

"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

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

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

"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

"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.


"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

"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

"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'

"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

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

"'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

"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?' 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

"'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

"'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-

"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

"'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

"'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,

"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

"'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

"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

"'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

"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

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

"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'

"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,

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

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."

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

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


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

"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

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

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

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

"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.

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

"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

"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

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

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