sing time, and then, being still
disinclined for home, paid a visit to Bill Smith, who lived the other
side of Tunwich. By the time he started for home it was nearly midnight.

The outskirts of the town were deserted and the houses in darkness. The
clock of Tunwich church struck twelve, and the last stroke was just dying
away as he turned a corner and ran almost into the arms of the man he had
been trying to avoid.

"Halloa!" said Constable Evans, sharply. "Here, I want a word with you."

Mr. Grummit quailed. "With me, sir?" he said, with involuntary respect.

"What have you been doing to my flowers?" demanded the other, hotly.

"Flowers?" repeated Mr. Grummit, as though the word were new to him.
"Flowers? What flowers?"

"You know well enough," retorted the constable. "You got over my fence
last night and smashed all my flowers down."

"You be careful wot you're saying," urged Mr. Grummit. "Why, I love
flowers. You don't mean to tell me that all them beautiful flowers wot
you put in so careful 'as been spoiled?"

"You know all about it," said the constable, choking. "I shall take out
a summons against you for it."

"Ho!" said Mr. Grummit. "And wot time do you say it was when I done it?"

"Never you mind the time," said the other.

"Cos it's important," said Mr. Grummit.

"My wife's brother--the one you're so fond of--slept in my 'ouse last
night. He was ill arf the night, pore chap; but, come to think of it,
it'll make 'im a good witness for my innocence."

"If I wasn't a policeman," said Mr. Evans, speaking with great
deliberation, "I'd take hold o' you, Bob Grummit, and I'd give you the
biggest hiding you've ever had in your life."

"If you wasn't a policeman," said Mr. Grummit, yearningly, "I'd arf
murder you."

The two men eyed each other wistfully, loth to part.

"If I gave you what you deserve I should get into trouble," said the
constable.

"If I gave you a quarter of wot you ought to 'ave I should go to quod,"
sighed Mr. Grummit.

"I wouldn't put you there," said the constable, earnestly; "I swear I
wouldn't."

"Everything's beautiful and quiet," said Mr. Grummit, trembling with
eagerness, "and I wouldn't say a word to a soul. I'll take my solemn
davit I wouldn't."

"When I think o' my garden--" began the constable. With a sudden
movement he knocked off Mr. Grummit's cap, and then, seizing him by the
coat, began to hustle him along the road. In the twinkling of an eye
the