nd 'ome late, and
more often than not getting my dinner out. That's my life nowadays."

"Can't you let her see that her attentions are undesirable?" inquired
Hardy, gravely.

"Can't you let her see that her attentions are undesirable?"

[Illustration: "'Can't you let her see that her attentions are
undesirable?'"]

"I can't be rude to a woman," said the steward, with a melancholy smile;
"if I could, my life would ha' been very different. She's always
stepping across to ask my advice about Teddy, or something o' that sort.
All last week she kept borrowing my frying-pan, so at last by way of
letting 'er see I didn't like it I went out and bought 'er one for
herself. What's the result? Instead o' being offended she went out and
bought me a couple o' neck-ties. When I didn't wear 'em she pretended it
was because I didn't like the colour, and she went and bought two more.
I'm wearing one now."

He shook his head ruefully, and Hardy glanced at a tie which would have
paled the glories of a rainbow. For some time they walked along in
silence.

"I'm going to pay my respects to Cap'n Nugent this afternoon," said Mr.
Wilks, suddenly.

"Ah," said the other.

"I knew what it 'ud be with them two on the same ship," continued Mr.
Wilks. "I didn't say nothing when you was talking to Miss Kate, but I
knew well enough."

"Ah," said Hardy again. There was no mistaking the significance of the
steward's remarks, and he found them somewhat galling. It was all very
well to make use of his humble friend, but he had no desire to discuss
his matrimonial projects with him.

"It's a great pity," pursued the unconscious Mr. Wilks, "just as
everything seemed to be going on smoothly; but while there's life there's
'ope."

"That's a smart barge over there," said Hardy, pointing it out.

Mr. Wilks nodded. "I shall keep my eyes open this afternoon," he said
reassuringly. "And if I get a chance of putting in a word it'll be put
in. Twenty-nine years I sailed with the cap'n, and if there's anybody
knows his weak spots it's me."

He stopped as they reached the town and said "good-bye." He pressed the
young man's hand sympathetically, and a wink of intense artfulness gave
point to his last remark.

"There's always Sam Wilks's cottage," he said, in a husky whisper; "and
if two of 'is friends _should_ 'appen to meet there, who'd be the wiser?"

He gazed benevolently after the young man's retreating figure and
continued his st