"I don't know what you're driving at," said the harassed Mr. Gunnill,
bitterly.

"H'm!" said Mr. Drill, with a weak laugh. "I've been mixing you up with
somebody else."

Mr. Gunnill, obviously relieved, said that he ought to be more careful,
and pointed out, with some feeling, that a lot of mischief was caused
that way.

"Cooper wants a lesson, that's what he wants," said Mr. Sims, valiantly.
"He'll get his head broke one of these days."

Mr. Gunnill acquiesced. "I remember when I was on the _Peewit,_" he
said, musingly, "one time when we were lying at Cardiff, there was a
policeman there run one of our chaps in, and two nights afterward another
of our chaps pushed the policeman down in the mud and ran off with his
staff and his helmet."

Miss Gunnill's eyes glistened. "What happened?" she inquired.

"He had to leave the force," replied her father; "he couldn't stand the
disgrace of it. The chap that pushed him over was quite a little chap,
too. About the size of Herbert here."

Mr. Sims started.

"Very much like him in face, too," pursued Mr. Gunnill; "daring chap he
was."