"It won't be shot if it don't come on my wharf," I ses. "Though I don't
mind if it does when I've got somebody with me. I ain't afraid of
anything living, and I don't mind ghosts when there's two of us. Besides
which, the noise of the pistol 'll wake up 'arf the river."

"You take care you don't get woke up," ses Joe, 'ardly able to speak for
temper.

He went off stamping, and grinding 'is teeth, and at eight o'clock to the
minute, Ted Dennis turned up with 'is pistol and helped me take care of
the wharf. Happy as a skylark 'e was, and to see him 'iding behind a
barrel with his pistol ready, waiting for the ghost, a'most made me
forget the expense of it all.

It never came near us that night, and Ted was a bit disappointed next
morning as he took 'is ninepence and went off. Next night was the same,
and the next, and then Ted gave up hiding on the wharf for it, and sat
and snoozed in the office instead.

A week went by, and then another, and still there was no sign of Sam
Bullet's ghost, or Joe Peel, and every morning I 'ad to try and work up a
smile as I shelled out ninepence for Ted. It nearly ruined me, and,
worse than that, I couldn't explain why I was short to the missis. Fust
of all she asked me wot I was spending it on, then she asked me who I was
spending it on. It nearly broke up my 'ome--she did smash one kitchen-
chair and a vase off the parlour mantelpiece--but I wouldn't tell 'er,
and then, led away by some men on strike at Smith's wharf, Ted went on
strike for a bob a night.

That was arter he 'ad been with me for three weeks, and when Saturday