d that he was to be
scolded and disbelieved, and mentally thrusting his fingers into his
ears, he stepped out, glided down the staircase in the old boyish
fashion of sliding down the banister, snatched his hat from the stand,
and softly stole out to hurry down the street as hard as he could go.

He had been walking swiftly some five minutes, moved by only one
desire--that of getting away from the house--when he awoke to the fact
that he was going straight towards the constable's quarters and the
old-fashioned lock-up where Mike must be lying, getting rid of the
consequences of his holiday-making that morning.

Don turned sharply round in another direction, one which led him towards
the wharves where the shipping lay.

While this was taking place, Jem Wimble had been banging the doors and
rattling his keys as he locked up the various stores, feeling
particularly proud and self-satisfied with the confidence placed in him.

After this was done he had a wash at the pump, fetching a piece of soap
from a ledge inside the workshop where the cooper's tools were kept, and
when he had duly rubbed and scrubbed and dried his face and hands, he
went indoors to stare with astonishment, for his little wife was making
the most of her size by sitting very upright as she finished her tea.

Jem plumped himself indignantly down, and began his. This was a new
annoyance. Sally had scolded times out of number, and found fault with
him for being so late, but this was the first time that she had ever
begun a meal without his being present, and he felt bitterly hurt.

"As if I could help it," he said, half aloud. "A man has his work to
do, and he must do it."

"Five o'clock's tea-time, and you ought to have been here."

"And if I wasn't here, it was your dooty to wait for me, marm."

"Was it?" cried Sally; "then I wasn't going to. I'm not going to be
ordered about and ill-treated, Jem; you always said you liked your tea
ready at five o'clock. I had it ready at five o'clock, and I waited
till half-past, and it's now five-and-twenty to six."

"I don't care if it's five-and-twenty to nineteen!" cried Jem angrily.
"It's your dooty to wait, same as it's mine to shut up."

"You might have shut up after tea."

"Then I wasn't going to, marm."

"Then you may have your tea by yourself, for I've done, and I'm not
going to be trampled upon by you."

Sally had risen in the loudness of her voice, in her temper, and in her
person, for she