W. W. Jacobs

“ The skipper and the hands were still ashore and the ketch looked so lonely that the mate, thinking better of his idea of retiring, thrust his hands deep in his pockets and sauntered round the harbor. It was nearly dark, and the only other man visible stood at the edge of the quay gazing at the water. He stood for so long that the mate's easily aroused curiosity awoke, and, after twice passing, he edged up to him and ventured a remark on the fineness of the night.
"The night's all right," said the young man, gloomily.
"You're rather near the edge," said the mate, after a pause. ”

“ Potter caught his breath sharply; Mr. Spriggs, who was stooping to get a light for his pipe, nearly fell into the fire. There was an impressive silence.
"Money isn't everything," said Mr. Price, looking round and shaking his head. "It's not much good, except to give away."
His eye roved round the room and came to rest finally upon Mr. Potter.
The young man noticed with a thrill that it beamed with benevolence.
"Fancy coming over without saying a word to anybody, and taking us all by surprise like this!" said Ethel.
"I felt I must see you all once more before I died," said her uncle, simply. ”

“ Mrs. Jobling bit her lip and, although she had never felt more fluent in her life, said nothing. Her husband lit his pipe, and after a rapid glance in her direction took up an old newspaper and began to read.
He astonished Mrs. Jobling next day by the gift of a geranium in full bloom. Surprise impeded her utterance, but she thanked him at last with some warmth, and after a little deliberation decided to put it in the bedroom.
Mr. Jobling looked like a man who has suddenly discovered a flaw in his calculations. “I was thinking of the front parlor winder,” he said, at last. ”

“ Miss Robinson opened her big eyes and looked round with an air of pretty defiance. "I am glad of it," she said.
"Glad?" said Mrs. Jobling, involuntarily breaking a self-imposed vow of silence. "Glad?"
The girl nodded. "I like pluck," she said, with a glance in the direction of Mr. Jobling; "and, besides, whoever took it had as much right to it as Gingell and Watson; they didn't earn it."
Mrs. Jobling, appalled at such ideas, glanced at her husband to see how he received them. "The man's a thief," she said, with great energy, "and he won't enjoy his gains." ”

“ The devotion of the cook was patent to all men, but Miss Jewell was as changeable as a weather-glass. The skipper would leave her one night convinced that he had better forget her as soon as possible, and the next her manner would be so kind, and her glances so soft, that only the presence of the ever-watchful cook prevented him from proposing on the spot. The end came one evening in October. The skipper had hurried back from the City, laden with stores, Miss Jewell having, after many refusals, consented to grace the tea-table that afternoon. ”

“ A long silence followed, broken only by the ill-suppressed giggles of Annie, who had retired to the kitchen.
“I trust that we shall make your lordship comfortable,” said Miss Rose.
“I hope so, my good girl,” was the reply. “And now will you show me my room?”
Miss Rose led the way upstairs and threw open the door; Lord Fairmount, pausing on the threshold, gazed at it disparagingly.
“Is this the best room you have?” he inquired, stiffly.
“Oh, no,” said Miss Rose, smiling; “father's room is much better than this. Look here.” ”

“ William Jobling leaned against his door-post, smoking. The evening air, pleasant in its coolness after the heat of the day, caressed his shirt-sleeved arms. Children played noisily in the long, dreary street, and an organ sounded faintly in the distance. To Mr. Jobling, who had just consumed three herrings and a pint and a half of strong tea, the scene was delightful. He blew a little cloud of smoke in the air, and with half-closed eyes corrected his first impression as to the tune being played round the corner.
"Bill!" cried the voice of Mrs. Jobling, who was washing-up in the tiny scullery. ”

“ MIXED RELATIONS The brig Elizabeth Barstow came up the river as though in a hurry to taste again the joys of the Metropolis. The skipper, leaning on the wheel, was in the midst of a hot discussion with the mate, who was placing before him the hygienic, economical, and moral advantages of total abstinence in language of great strength but little variety.
"Teetotallers eat more," said the skipper, finally. ”

“ Mr. Tucker said, "Indeed!"
"He'll be all right soon," said Mrs. Bowman, in confidential tones. "We are on the way to put our banns up, and once that is done he will feel safe. You are not really afraid of losing me again, are you, Nathaniel?"
Mr. Clark shook his head, and, meeting the eye of Mr. Tucker in the process, favored him with a glance of such utter venom that the latter was almost startled.
"Good-by, Mr. Tucker," said the widow, holding out her hand. "Nathaniel did think of inviting you to come to my wedding, but perhaps it is best not. ”

“ For once, however, Mrs. Spriggs had none to give. Even when Mr. Potter had gone and Ethel had retired upstairs she was still voiceless. She sat for some time looking at the fire and stealing an occasional glance at Uncle Gussie as he smoked a cigar; then she arose and bent over her husband.
"Do what you think best," she said, in a weary voice. "Good-night."
"What about that money of young Alfred's?" demanded Mr. Spriggs, as the door closed behind her.
"I'm going to put it in my business," said Uncle Gussie, blandly; "my business in Australia." ”

“ Dix stood up and clinched his fists, but at the spectacle of the dripping, forlorn figure before him his wrath vanished and he broke into a hearty laugh.
"Come on, mate," he said, clapping him on the back, "now let's go and find Emma. If she don't fall in love with you now she never will. My eye! you are a picture!" ”

“ The cook sat erect and, the skipper being occupied with Miss Jewell, winked solemnly at the skylight.
"I know you will," said the girl, very softly; "but I don't think the men—"
"The men'll do as I wish," said the skipper, sternly. "I'm the master on this ship—she's half mine, too—and anybody who interferes with him interferes with me. If there's anything you don't like, Bert, you tell me." ”

“ Miss Jewell nodded. "They make the best husbands," she said, gravely.
The skipper began to argue the point, and Mr. Jewell, at that moment taking a seat behind, joined in with some heat. A more ardent supporter could not have been found, although his repetition of the phrase "May and December" revealed a want of tact of which the skipper had not thought him capable. What had promised to be a red-letter day in his existence was spoiled, and he went to bed that night with the full conviction that he had better abandon a project so hopeless. ”

“ Potter, with a smile. "You don't get a chance like that every day."
He filled Uncle Gussie's glass for him, and that gentleman at once raised it and proposed the health of the young couple. "If anything was to 'appen to break it off now," he said, with a swift glance at his sister, "they'd be miserable for life, I can see that."
"Miserable for ever," assented Mr. Potter, in a sepulchral voice, as he squeezed the hand of Miss Spriggs under the table.
"It's the only thing worth 'aving—love," continued Mr. Price, watching his brother-in-law out of the corner of his eye. "Money is nothing." ”

“ Tucker, gravely.
"Don't you want me to put 'em up?" demanded Mr. Clark, turning to Mrs.
Bowman.
"There's no hurry," said Mrs. Bowman again. "I—I want time to think."
Mr. Clark rose and stood over her, and after a vain attempt to meet his gaze she looked down at the carpet.
"I understand," he said, loftily. "I am not blind."
"It isn't my fault," murmured the widow, drawing patterns with her toe on the carpet. "One can't help their feelings."
Mr. Clark gave a short, hard laugh. "What about my feelings?" he said, severely. "What about the life you have spoiled? ”

“ The skipper put his ideas into practice as soon as they reached London. Between Wapping and Charing Cross he lost the cook three times. Miss Jewell found him twice, and the third time she was so difficult that the skipper had to join in the treasure-hunt himself. The cook listened unmoved to a highly-colored picture of his carelessness from the lips of Miss Jewell, and bestowed a sympathetic glance upon the skipper as she paused for breath.
"It's as bad as taking a child out," said the latter, with well-affected indignation. ”

“ Potter had just taken Ethel Spriggs into the kitchen to say good- by; in the small front room Mr. Spriggs, with his fingers already fumbling at the linen collar of ceremony, waited impatiently.
"They get longer and longer over their good-bys," he complained.
"It's only natural," said Mrs. Spriggs, looking up from a piece of fine sewing. "Don't you remember—"
"No, I don't," said her husband, doggedly. "I know that your pore father never 'ad to put on a collar for me; and, mind you, I won't wear one after they're married, not if you all went on your bended knees and asked me to." ”

“ Spriggs, hastily, as her husband rose.
“After they're spliced,” said the vindictive Mr. Spriggs, resuming his seat, “I'll go round and I'll play about with their front-door till—”
He broke off abruptly as his daughter, darting into the room, closed the door with a bang that nearly extinguished the lamp, and turned the key. Before her flushed and laughing face Mr. Spriggs held his peace.
“What's the matter?” she asked, eying him. “What are you looking like that for?”
“Too much draught—for your mother,” said Mr. Spriggs, feebly. “I'm afraid of her asthma agin.” ”

“ Instructions as to a change of bedroom were frustrated by the reappearance of Jane.
His lordship went for a walk after that, and coming back with a bored air stood on the hearthrug in the living-room and watched Miss Rose sewing.
“Very dull place,” he said at last, in a dissatisfied voice.
“Yes, my lord,” said Miss Rose, demurely.
“Fearfully dull,” complained his lordship, stifling a yawn. “What I'm to do to amuse myself for a fortnight I'm sure I don't know.”
Miss Rose raised her fine eyes and regarded him intently. Many a lesser man would have looked no farther for amusement. ”

“ Cray grunted.
“Truth is truth, though she's my daughter,” continued Mr. Rose, vaguely. “She's too good-looking. Sometimes when I've taken her up to market I've seen the folks fair turn their backs on the cattle and stare at her instead.”
Mr. Cray sniffed; louder, perhaps, than he had intended. “Beautiful that rose-bush smells,” he remarked, as his friend turned and eyed him.
“What is the consequence?” demanded the farmer, relaxing his gaze. “She looks in the glass and sees herself, and then she gets miserable and uppish because there ain't nobody in these parts good enough for her to marry.” ”

“ Rose sighed.
"What she wants to understand is that the upper classes wouldn't look at her," pursued the miller.
"It would be easier to make her understand that if they didn't," said the farmer.
"I mean," said Mr. Cray, sternly, "with a view to marriage. What you ought to do is to get somebody staying down here with you pretending to be a lord or a nobleman, and ordering her about and not noticing her good looks at all. Then, while she's upset about that, in comes Walter Lomas to comfort her and be a contrast to the other."
Mr. Rose withdrew his pipe and regarded him open-mouthed. ”

“ Tea was cleared away, and the long evening dragged along in silence. Uncle and niece were apparently sitting in the garden, but they came in to supper, and later on the fumes of Mr. Wragg's pipe pervaded the house. At ten o'clock he heard footsteps ascending the stairs, and through half-closed eyes saw Mr. Wragg enter the bedroom with a candle.
"Time the pore feller had 'is water," he said to his niece, who remained outside.
"Unless he is still insensible," was the reply.
Mr. Gale, who was feeling both thirsty and hungry, slowly opened his eyes, and fixed them in a vacant stare on Mr. Wragg. ”

“ Tucker, planted himself in a chair and surveyed him grimly. “I thought I should find you here,” he remarked.
“Well, I always am here, ain't I?” retorted Mr. Tucker, removing his cigar and regarding him with mild surprise.
“Mr. Tucker is my friend,” interposed Mrs. Bowman. “I am the only friend he has got in Trimington. It's natural he should be here.”
Mr. Clark quailed at her glance.
“People are beginning to talk,” he muttered, feebly.
“Talk?” said the widow, with an air of mystification belied by her color. “What about?”
Mr. Clark quailed again. “About—about our wedding,” he stammered. ”

“ Price drew his chair up, but, as to talking about Australia, he said ungratefully that he was sick of the name of the place, and preferred instead to discuss the past and future of Mr. Potter. He learned, among other things, that that gentleman was of a careful and thrifty disposition, and that his savings, augmented by a lucky legacy, amounted to a hundred and ten pounds.
“Alfred is going to stay with Palmer and Mays for another year, and then we shall take a business of our own,” said Ethel.
“Quite right,” said Mr. Price. “I like to see young people make their own way,” he added meaningly. ”

“ Henshaw, shaking off the hand which the other had laid on his arm.
"You—you be Alfred Bell," said Mr. Stokes, breathlessly.
Mr. Henshaw started and eyed him nervously. His friend's eyes were bright and, he fancied, a bit wild.
"Be Alfred Bell," repeated Mr. Stokes. "Don't you see? Pretend to be Alfred Bell and go with me to your missis. I'll lend you a suit o' clothes and a fresh neck-tie, and there you are."
"What?" roared the astounded Mr. Henshaw.
"It's as easy as easy," declared the other. ”