"Easier said than done," said Mr. Travers, serenely. "But don't you run
away with the idea that I'm a beggar, because I'm not. I pay my way,
such as it is. And, by-the-bye, I s'pose I haven't earned that two
pounds Benn gave me?"

His face lengthened, and he felt uneasily in his pocket.

"I'll give them to him when I'm tired of the joke," said the widow,
holding out her hand and watching him closely.

Mr. Travers passed the coins over to her. "Soft hand you've got," he
said, musingly. "I don't wonder Benn was desperate. I dare say I should
have done the same in his place."

Mrs. Waters bit her lip and looked out at the window; Mr. Travers resumed
his breakfast.

"There's only one job that I'm really fit for, now that I'm too old for
the Army," he said, confidentially, as, breakfast finished, he stood at
the door ready to depart.

"Playing at burglars?" hazarded Mrs. Waters.

"Landlord of a little country public-house," said Mr. Travers, simply.

Mrs. Waters fell back and regarded him with open-eyed amazement.

"Good morning," she said, as soon as she could trust her voice.