"Listen t' me," said Mr. Wilks, impressively.

"I don't want no words with you," said the land-lord. "You get off home
while you can."

"That's right, Sam," said one of the company, putting his hand on the
steward's arm. "You take his advice."

Mr. Wilks shook the hand off and eyed his adviser ferociously. Then he
took a glass from the counter and smashed it on the floor. The next
moment the bar was in a ferment, and the landlord, gripping Mr. Wilks
round the middle, skilfully piloted him to the door and thrust him into
the road.

[Illustration: "He took a glass from the counter and smashed it on the
floor."]

The strong air blowing from the sea disordered the steward's faculties
still further. His treatment inside was forgotten, and, leaning against
the front of the tavern, he stood open-mouthed, gazing at marvels. Ships
in the harbour suddenly quitted their native element and were drawn up
into the firmament; nobody passed but twins.

"Evening, Mr. Wilks," said a voice.

The steward peered down at the voice. At first he thought it was another
case of twins, but looking close he saw that it was Mr. Edward Silk
alone. He saluted him graciously, and then, with a wave of his hand
toward the sky, sought to attract his attention to the ships there.