a minute I could call my own. I put down the broom at last, and was
just thinking of stepping round to the Bull's Head for a 'arf-pint when
I see Cap'n Smithers come off the ship on to the wharf and walk to the
gate.

"I thought you was going to turn in?" I ses.

"I did think of it," he ses, "then I thought p'r'aps I'd better stroll
as far as Broad Street and meet my wife."

It was all I could do to keep a straight face. I'd a pretty good idea
where she 'ad gorn; and it wasn't Dalston.

"Come in and 'ave 'arf a pint fust," I ses.

"No; I shall be late," he ses, hurrying off.

I went in and 'ad a glass by myself, and stood there so long thinking of
Mrs. Smithers walking up and down by Cleopatra's Needle that at last the
landlord fust asked me wot I was laughing at, and then offered to make
me laugh the other side of my face. And then he wonders why people go
to the Albion.

I locked the gate rather earlier than usual that night. Sometimes if
I'm up that end I leave it a bit late, but I didn't want Mrs. Smithers
to come along and nip in without me seeing her face.

It was ten o'clock afore I heard the bell go, and when I opened the
wicket and looked out I was surprised to see that she 'ad got the
skipper with 'er. And of all the miserable-looking objects I ever saw