n beer, and then Peter Russet started talking to Miss Tucker and told
her that Ginger was a prize-fighter from Sydney, where he'd beat
everybody that stood up to 'im.

The gal seemed to change toward Ginger all in a flash, and 'er beautiful
black eyes looked at 'im so admiring that he felt quite faint. She
started talking to 'im about his fights at once, and when at last 'e
plucked up courage to ask 'er to go for a walk with 'im on Sunday
arternoon she seemed quite delighted.

"It'll be a nice change for me," she ses, smiling. "I used to walk out
with a prize-fighter once before, and since I gave 'im up I began to
think I was never going to 'ave a young man agin. You can't think 'ow
dull it's been."

"Must ha' been," ses Ginger.

"I s'pose you've got a taste for prize-fighters, miss," ses Peter Russet.

"No," ses Miss Tucker; "I don't think that it's that exactly, but, you
see, I couldn't 'ave anybody else. Not for their own sakes."

[Illustration: "Miss Tucker."]

"Why not?" ses Ginger, looking puzzled.

"Why not?" ses Miss Tucker. "Why, because o' Bill. He's such a 'orrid
jealous disposition. After I gave 'im up I walked out with a young
fellow named Smith; fine, big, strapping chap 'e was, too, and I never
saw such a change in any man as there was in 'im after Bill 'ad done with
'im. I couldn't believe it was 'im. I told Bill he ought to be ashamed
of 'imself."

"Wot did 'e say?" asks Ginger.

"Don't ask me wot 'e said," ses Miss Tucker, tossing her 'ead. "Not
liking to be beat, I 'ad one more try with a young fellow named Charlie
Webb."

"Wot 'appened to 'im?" ses Peter Russet, arter waiting a bit for 'er to
finish.

"I can't bear to talk of it," ses Miss Tucker, holding up Ginger's glass
and giving the counter a wipe down. "He met Bill, and I saw 'im six
weeks afterward just as 'e was being sent away from the 'ospital to a
seaside home. Bill disappeared after that."

"Has he gone far away?" ses Ginger, trying to speak in a off-'and way.

"Oh, he's back now," ses Miss Tucker. "You'll see 'im fast enough, and,
wotever you do, don't let 'im know you're a prize-fighter."

"Why not?" ses pore Ginger.

"Because o' the surprise it'll be to 'im," ses Miss Tucker. "Let 'im
rush on to 'is doom. He'll get a lesson 'e don't expect, the bully.
Don't be afraid of 'urting 'im. Think o' pore Smith and Charlie Webb."

"I am thinkin' of 'em," ses Ginger, slow-like. "Is--is Bill--very quick
--w