miles from here, where I live," he said, after several vigorous puffs,
"there's a little public-'ouse called the Beehive, kept by a lady wot
I've got my eye on."

The soldier sat up.

"She won't 'ave me," said the boatswain, with an air of mild surprise.

The soldier leaned back again.

"She's a lone widder," continued Mr. Benn, shaking his head, "and the
Beehive is in a lonely place. It's right through the village, and the
nearest house is arf a mile off."

"Silly place for a pub," commented Mr. Travers.

"I've been telling her 'ow unsafe it is," said the boatswain. "I've been
telling her that she wants a man to protect her, and she only laughs at
me. She don't believe it; d'ye see? Likewise I'm a small man--small,
but stiff. She likes tall men."

"Most women do," said Mr. Travers, sitting upright and instinctively
twisting his moustache. "When I was in the ranks--"

"My idea is," continued the boatswain, slightly raising his voice, "to
kill two birds with one stone--prove to her that she does want being
protected, and that I'm the man to protect her. D'ye take my meaning,
mate?"

The soldier reached out a hand and felt the other's biceps. "Like a lump