“What—what did she come here for?
Do you mean to tell me she thinks I took the
money?” he said, huskily, after a long pause.
Mrs. Jobling bent before the storm. “I
think she took a fancy to you,
Bill,” she said, timidly.
Mr. Jobling appeared to swallow something; then he
took a step nearer to her. “You let me
see you laugh again, that’s all,” he said,
fiercely. “As for that Jezzybill—”
“There she is,” said his wife, as a knock
sounded at the door. “Don’t say anything
to hurt her feelings, Bill. You said she was to
be pitied. And it must be a hard life to ’ave
to go round and flatter old married men. I shouldn’t
like it.”
Mr. Jobling, past speech, stood and glared at her.
Then, with an inarticulate cry, he rushed to the front
door and flung it open. Miss Robinson, fresh
and bright, stood smiling outside. Within easy
distance a little group of neighbors were making conversation,
while opposite Mr. Brown awaited events.
“What d’you want?” demanded Mr.
Jobling, harshly.
Miss Robinson, who had put out her hand, drew it back
and gave him a swift glance. His red face and
knitted brows told their own story.
“Oh!” she said, with a winning smile,
“will you please tell Mrs. Jobling that I can’t
come to tea with her this evening?”
“Isn’t there anything else you’d
like to say?” inquired Mr. Jobling, disdainfully,
as she turned away.
The girl paused and appeared to reflect. “You
can say that I am sorry to miss an amusing evening,”
she said, regarding him steadily. “Good-by.”
Mr. Jobling slammed the door.
[Illustration: A CIRCULAR TOUR]
Illness? said the night watchman, slowly. Yes,
sailormen get ill sometimes, but not ’aving
the time for it that other people have, and there
being no doctors at sea, they soon pick up agin.
Ashore, if a man’s ill he goes to a horse-pittle
and ’as a nice nurse to wait on ’im; at
sea the mate comes down and tells ’im that there
is nothing the matter with ’im, and asks ’im
if he ain’t ashamed of ’imself. The
only mate I ever knew that showed any feeling was
one who ’ad been a doctor and ’ad gone
to sea to better ’imself. He didn’t
believe in medicine; his idea was to cut things out,
and he was so kind and tender, and so fond of ‘is
little box of knives and saws, that you wouldn’t
ha’ thought anybody could ’ave had the
’art to say “no” to him. But
they did. I remember ’im getting up at
four o’clock one morning to cut a man’s
leg off, and at ha’-past three the chap was
sitting up aloft with four pairs o’ trousers
on and a belaying-pin in his ’and.
