o reply.

"I have got to satisfy her that I am free," said the young man, after
another pause. "I suppose that I can do so?"

"I--I'll think it over," said Miss Garland, in a low voice. "I am not
sure what is the right thing to do. I don't want to see you made
miserable for life. It's nothing to me, of course, but still--"

She got up and, shaking off the proffered assistance of her uncle, went
slowly and languidly up to her room. Mr. Mott followed her as far as the
door, and then turned indignantly upon Mr. Hurst.

"You--you've broke her heart," he said, solemnly.

"That's all right," said Mr. Hurst, with a delighted wink. "I'll mend it
again."

SAM'S GHOST

Yes, I know, said the night-watchman, thoughtfully, as he sat with a cold
pipe in his mouth gazing across the river. I've 'eard it afore. People
tell me they don't believe in ghosts and make a laugh of 'em, and all I
say is: let them take on a night-watchman's job. Let 'em sit 'ere all
alone of a night with the water lapping against the posts and the wind
moaning in the corners; especially if a pal of theirs has slipped
overboard, and there is little nasty bills stuck up just outside in the
High Street offering a reward for the body. Twice men 'ave fallen
overboard from this jetty, and I've 'ad to stand my watch here the same
night, and not a farthing more for it.

One of the worst and artfullest ghosts I ever 'ad anything to do with was
Sam Bullet. He was a waterman at the stairs near by 'ere; the sort o'
man that 'ud get you to pay for drinks, and drink yours up by mistake
arter he 'ad finished his own. The sort of man that 'ad always left his
baccy-box at 'ome, but always 'ad a big pipe in 'is pocket.

He fell overboard off of a lighter one evening, and all that his mates
could save was 'is cap. It was on'y two nights afore that he 'ad knocked
down an old man and bit a policeman's little finger to the bone, so that,
as they pointed out to the widder, p'r'aps he was taken for a wise
purpose. P'r'aps he was 'appier where he was than doing six months.

"He was the sort o' chap that'll make himself 'appy anywhere," ses one of
'em, comforting-like.

"Not without me," ses Mrs. Bullet, sobbing, and wiping her eyes on
something she used for a pocket-hankercher. "He never could bear to be
away from me. Was there no last words?"

"On'y one," ses one o' the chaps, Joe Peel by name.

"As 'e fell overboard," ses the other.

Mrs. Bullet