, else he loses of 'is license."

"Not when they're the worse for licker he ain't," said the landlord.

"Certainly not," said the shoemaker; "that's why I'm sticking to
lemonade, Ketchmaid."

The indignant Mr. Ketchmaid, removing the wire from the cork, discharged
the missile at the ceiling. The shoemaker took the glass from him and
looked round with offensive slyness.

"Here's the 'ealth of Henry Wiggett what lost 'is leg to save Mr.
Ketchmaid's life," he said, unctuously. "Also the 'ealth of Sam Jones,
who let hisself be speared through the chest for the same noble purpose.
Likewise the health of Captain Peters, who nursed Mr. Ketchmaid like
'is own son when he got knocked up doing the work of five men as was
drowned; likewise the health o' Dick Lee, who helped Mr. Ketchmaid
capture a Chinese junk full of pirates and killed the whole seventeen of
'em by--'Ow did you say you killed'em, Ketchmaid?"

The landlord, who was busy with the taps, affected not to hear.

"Killed the whole seventeen of 'em by first telling 'em yarns till
they fell asleep and then choking 'em with Henry Wiggett's wooden leg,"
resumed the shoemaker.

"Kee--hee," said a hapless listener, explosively. "Kee--hee--kee----"

He checked himself suddenly, and assumed an air of great solemnity as
the landlord looked his way.

"You'd better go 'ome, Jem Summers," said the fuming Mr. Ketchmaid.
"You're the worse for liker."

"I'm not," said Mr. Summers, stoutly.

"Out you go," said Mr. Ketchmaid, briefly. "You know my rules. I keep
a respectable house, and them as can't drink in moderation are best
outside."

"You should stick to lemonade, Jem," said Mr. Clark. "You can say what
you like then."

Mr. Summers looked round for support, and then, seeing no pity in the
landlord's eye, departed, wondering inwardly how he was to spend the
remainder of the evening. The company in the bar gazed at each other
soberly and exchanged whispers.

"Understand, Ned Clark," said the indignant Mr. Ketchmaid, "I don't want
your money in this public-house. Take it somewhere else."

"Thank'ee, but I prefer to come here," said the shoemaker,
ostentatiously sipping his lemonade. "I like to listen to your tales of
the sea. In a quiet way I get a lot of amusement out of 'em."

"Do you disbelieve my word?" demanded Mr. Ketchmaid, hotly.

"Why, o' course I do," replied the shoemaker; "we all do. You'd see
how silly they are yourself if you only stopped to think. Y