. He poured out pretty near a tumbler of
whisky and offered it to Mrs. Pearce, but she pushed it away, and, arter
looking round in a 'elpless sort of way and shaking his 'ead once or
twice, he finished it up 'imself.

"It couldn't 'ave been 'im," ses George Hatchard, speaking through 'is
handkerchief. "I can't believe it. It's too cruel."

"I tell you it was 'im," ses Bill. "He floated off on a spar when the
ship went down, and was picked up two days arterwards by a bark and
taken to New Zealand. He told me all about it, and he told me if ever I
saw 'is wife to give her 'is kind regards."

"_Kind regards!_" ses Joe Morgan, starting up. "Why didn't he let 'is
wife know 'e was alive?"

"That's wot I said to 'im," ses Bill Flurry; "but he said he 'ad 'is
reasons."

"Ah, to be sure," ses Mrs. Morgan, nodding. "Why, you and her can't be
married now," she ses, turning to George Hatchard.

"Married?" ses Bill Flurry with a start, as George Hatchard gave a groan
that surprised 'im-self. "Good gracious! what a good job I found 'er!"

"I s'pose you don't know where he is to be found now?" ses Mrs. Pearce,
in a low voice, turning to Bill.

"I do not, ma'am," ses Bill, "but I think you'd find 'im somewhere in
Australia. He keeps changing 'is name and shifting about, but I dare say
you'd 'ave as good a chance of finding 'im as anybody."

"It's a terrible blow to me," ses George Hatchard, dabbing his eyes.

"I know it is," ses Mrs. Pearce; "but there, you men are all alike. I
dare say if this hadn't turned up you'd ha' found something else."

"Oh, 'ow can you talk like that?" ses George Hatchard, very reproachful.
"It's the only thing in the world that could 'ave prevented our getting
married. I'm surprised at you."

"Well, that's all right, then," ses Mrs. Pearce, "and we'll get married
after all."

"But you can't," ses Alf.

"It's bigamy," ses Joe Morgan.

"You'd get six months," ses his wife.

"Don't you worry, dear," ses Mrs. Pearce, nodding at George Hatchard;
"that man's made a mistake."

"Mistake!" ses Bill Flurry. "Why, I tell you I talked to 'im. It was
Charlie Pearce right enough; scar on 'is forehead and a wart on 'is left
ear and all."

"It's wonderful," ses Mrs. Pearce. "I can't think where you got it all
from."

"Got it all from?" ses Bill, staring at her. "Why, from 'im."

"Oh, of course," ses Mrs. Pearce. "I didn't think of that; but that only
makes it the more wonderful, doesn't it?--because