mine thought she reckernized 'im yesterday, and told me."

"I shouldn't cry over 'im," ses the potman, shaking his 'ead: "he ain't
worth it. If I was you I should just give 'im a bang or two over the
'ead with my umberella, and then give 'im in charge."

I stepped inside the wicket--backwards--and then I slammed it in their
faces, and putting the key in my pocket, walked up the wharf. I knew it
was no good standing out there argufying. I felt sorry for the pore
thing in a way. If she really thought I was her 'usband, and she 'ad
lost me---- I put one or two things straight and then, for the sake of
distracting my mind, I 'ad a word or two with the skipper of the John
Henry, who was leaning against the side of his ship, smoking.

"Wot's that tapping noise?" he ses, all of a sudden. "'Ark!"

I knew wot it was. It was the handle of that umberella 'ammering on the
gate. I went cold all over, and then when I thought that the pot-man was
most likely encouraging 'er to do it I began to boil.

"Somebody at the gate," ses the skipper.

"Aye, aye," I ses. "I know all about it."

I went on talking until at last the skipper asked me whether he was
wandering in 'is mind, or whether I was. The mate came up from the cabin
just then, and o' course he 'ad to tell me there was somebody knocking at
the gate.

"Ain't you going to open it?" ses the skipper, staring at me.