about with your face on 'is shoulders, and getting it into trouble.

It was a year or two ago now. I was sitting one evening at the gate,
smoking a pipe and looking at a newspaper I 'ad found in the office,
when I see a gentleman coming along from the swing-bridge. Well-
dressed, clean-shaved chap 'e was, smoking a cigarette. He was walking
slow and looking about 'im casual-like, until his eyes fell on me, when
he gave a perfect jump of surprise, and, arter looking at me very 'ard,
walked on a little way and then turned back. He did it twice, and I was
just going to say something to 'im, something that I 'ad been getting
ready for 'im, when he spoke to me.

"Good evening," he ses.

"Good evening," I ses, folding the paper over and looking at 'im rather
severe.

"I hope you'll excuse me staring," he ses, very perlite; "but I've never
seen such a face and figger as yours in all my life--never."

"Ah, you ought to ha' seen me a few years ago," I ses. "I'm like
everybody else--I'm getting on."

"Rubbish!" he ses. "You couldn't be better if you tried. It's
marvellous! Wonderful! It's the very thing I've been looking for.
Why, if you'd been made to order you couldn't ha' been better."

I thought at fust he was by way of trying to get a drink out o' me--I've
been played that game afore--but instead o' that he asked me whether I'd
do 'im the pleasure of 'aving one with 'im.