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In at least three inns, the landlords, on hearing the news, spoke words of grave warning to their assistants.  More than one inexperienced tradesman, foolishly finding satisfaction in the tidings, began to rummage eagerly among old accounts.  In the local police-station, the inspector instructed his subordinates to stand no nonsense.  And the harbour-master removed his rabbits from outside his kitchen door to an apartment at the top of the house.

The “Jane Gladys,” after long absence, was back again in her home port.

For the harbour-master, ever ready to placate the “Jane Gladys,” was waiting on the quay for her with such correspondence as had come addressed to her in her absence.  And Captain Peter Putt, taking his mail and sorting through it perfunctorily, found his attention arrested by an envelope imperatively marked “Urgent.”

Ripping it open, he glanced rapidly through the missive it contained.  This done, he pushed his cap to the back of his head with a helpless gesture, blowing stertorously, and then read the letter for a second time.

After that, he stared about the vessel for some while, blinking incredulously.  At last, with a comprehensive sweep of his arm, he summoned his crew about him.  Leaving their labours to be completed by indignant hands on the quay, they gathered round the plump little form of Captain Dutt.

“Boys,” announced the skipper, simply, “the show’s bust!”

There was a startled, perplexed silence, and then the voice of Mr. Joseph Tridge rose aggrievedly.

“What ’ave they been finding out about us now?” he wanted to know.  “Some folks is never ’appy without they’re trying to make mischief.  What are we supposed to ’ave done wrong now, eh?”

“It can’t be that chap we sold the fish to in Starcross,” declared Mr. Horace Dobb, the cook.  “Because I saw ’im the night before we left, and ’e never said a word about it to me.  Kept ’is ’ead turned stiff the other way all the time, in fact.”

“’Im?” returned Horace, the cook, with scorn. “’E ’asn’t got a leg to stand on.  I never told ’im it was smuggled tobaccer, did I?  I simply said it was stuff that ’adn’t paid duty.  No more it ’ad!  Serves ’im right for jumping to conclusions, just because a sailorman’s carrying a parcel on a dark night!”

“Yes, boys,” said the skipper, with a long, quivering sigh, as one awakening to cold reality from a happy dream, “it’s all over!  All over!  Itchybod!” he remarked, with sad satisfaction in finding the word. “Itchybod, that’s it!”

“And ’oo’s ’e?” truculently demanded Mr. Tridge. “What’s ’e got to say against us?  Why, I’ll take my oath I ain’t ever even ’eard of ’im before!”

“It ain’t a ’im,” explained the skipper.  “It’s a bit of clarsical learning I’ve picked up in Latin, and it means ‘the game’s up.’  Boys, prepare for the worst!”

“Which of us?” asked Mr. Horace Dobb, not without apprehension.

“All of us!” replied the skipper.  “Our owner’s giving up business, and ’e’s goin to sell all ’is ships!”

Again there was a hush, and then, from the hinder spaces of this period of shock, there crept forth the voice of Mr. Horace Dobb, the cook, attuned to a sweet reasonableness.

“We’ll be all right,” he contended.  “Just as if anybody would ever buy the old ‘Jane Gladys’!”

“Except,” slowly said Mr. Clark, “to break ’er up!”

“Well, there it is, boys,” presently said the skipper, with an unconvincing attempt at briskness.  “It’s as much a surprise to me as it is to you.  For myself, I shan’t go to sea again after the next trip.  The owner’s fixing me up a bit of a pension.  And as for you chaps well, if you’ll take my advice, you’ll start looking round for fresh jobs without delay.”

“And they’ll take some finding,” stated Mr. Horace Dobb.  “’Oo is likely to engage us off the ‘Jane Gladys’ I’d like to know?” he asked the skipper, with some indignation.

“Some’ow the fact that we’ve sailed on the ‘Jane Gladys’ doesn’t seem to be a recommendation,” mentioned Mr. Clark, regretfully.

“Contrariwise!” said Mr. Tridge, tersely.

“She might be bought up and repaired and repainted and refitted,” ventured Captain Butt, but with no great hope.

“’Er new owners would never keep us on, though,” frankly opined Mr. Tridge.  “They’ll ’ave ’eard too much about us.”

“Ho, hindeed?” said Horace, loftily.  “Well, in that case, I don’t know as I’m anxious to sail under folks what listen to gossip.”

“And so we shall after them two months,” dismally foretold Mr. Samuel Clark.  “When first I come on this boat, twenty-seven years ago,” he told the skipper, reproachfully, “I was given to understand it was a permanent job.  If I’d known—”

“Well, there it is,” said Captain Dutt, again rather lamely, “and it can’t be helped.”

He waited a little while, uncomfortably conscious of the unhappy visages of his crew.  Then, with symptoms of commendable emotion, he scuttled to his cabin.  The mate, hitherto silent, addressed to the crew a few words of sympathy with himself, and followed his superior.

The four sailormen of the “Jane Gladys,” bleakly regarding each other, expressed their feelings in this crisis in a sort of forceful, rumbling fugue.  This done, they sulkily retired to their bunks, to lie down and meditate over the impending upheaval in their affairs.

But before long Mr. Clark began to snore challengingly, while Mr. Lock sought distraction of mind by rising and performing a number of arias on his melodeon, whereat Mr. Tridge, a slave to music, sat up and joined his voice to the harmony in a melancholy wail which he called “tenor.”

Wherefore, then, Mr. Horace Dobb, crying aloud his utmost annoyance at this disturbal of his peace, bounced from his bunk and repaired to the bar-parlour of the “Jolly Sailors,” a discreet inn on the quayside which gave promise of being an excellent refuge where a man, equipped with a shilling, and an anxiety about an unsettled future, might commune comfortably with his thoughts.

In this sanctuary the cook of the “Jane Gladys” remained for some while, with his cogitations becoming lighter and lighter in texture with every lift of his glass, till presently he had reverted to the normal, and was once again looking on the world as nothing more formidable than a vast territory bristling with chances for a quick-witted sea-cook to grasp.

And, therefore, when the door opened to admit Captain Simon Gooster, of the “Alert,” it was but natural that Horace’s bouyant imagination should present to him the bulky figure of the new-comer as not being alone, but as stalking in arm-in-arm with smiling Opportunity.

“Evening, sir,” said Horace, very respectfully.  Captain Gooster nodded, glanced at the measure which Horace had hastily emptied, and then, disappointedly, glanced away again.  Mr. Dobb ventured to commend the weather, to which Captain Gooster responded, absently, and, indeed, somewhat fretfully.

Horace at once conceded that doubtless Captain Gooster was right, but the skipper of the “Alert,” passing on, selected a seat in a remote corner and there posed unsociably.

The captain’s stare fascinated Horace, and continually his eyes roved back to the skipper of the “Alert,” and each time he accorded Captain Gooster a more ingratiating leer on meeting his gaze.  At last Captain Gooster beckoned authoritatively and patted the empty chair beside him, whereat Mr. Dobb readily sprang to his feet and took the indicated place, leaving the sire of the infant prodigy indignantly helpless in the very middle of a family anecdote.

“You’re the cook of the ‘Jane Gladys,’ ain’t you?” opened Captain Gooster.

“At present, sir,” said Mr. Dobb.

“I’ve ’eard about you,” remarked Captain Gooster.

“I dare say you ’ave, sir,” guardedly returned Mr. Dobb.

“You’re the one they call ’Orace,” continued the other.

“Mostly, sir,” agreed Mr. Dobb.

“Mind you, I ain’t the kind of man ’oo’s fool enough to believe all he hears,” said the skipper of the “Alert.”

“Thank you, sir,” replied Horace, gratefully.

“I’ve ’eard Cap’n Putt say you’re a real smart, sharp, clever chap.”

“Ah, well, of course ’e does know what ’e’s talking about, sir,” observed Horace, with the air of one making a concession.

Mr. Dobb, nodding his head, modestly refrained from speech.  Captain Gooster, as though he had satisfactorily disposed of all preliminaries, sat back and stroked his chin in thought for some moments.

“I’m glad I came across you to-night, ’Orace,” he said, at length.  “A man with a ’ead-piece—that’s what I’m looking for.”

“Well, that is lucky!” declared Horace.  “I’m looking out for another job and the ‘Alert’ would just suit me.”

“Yes, I ’eard about the ‘Jane Gladys,’” said Captain Gooster, slowly.  “But I wasn’t looking out for a man for my crew.  It’s just a private matter.  You ’elp me, if you can, and as far as a pint or two goes—”

“You’ll excuse me, sir,” interrupted Mr. Dobb, with dignity, “but brain work ain’t bought with pints, nor quarts, neither.  I’m looking for a job, not a evening out.”

“Well, we’ll see,” temporized the master of the “Alert.”  “If you needs a job and does me a good turn, I ain’t the man to forget it.”

“Thank you, sir; and a gentleman’s word is good enough for me!” stated Mr. Dobb, profusely.  “And you won’t ever regret taking me on the ‘Alert.’  And I can start this week with you, if you like.”

“Steady!” begged the startled captain.  “Why, you ain’t even ’eard what the trouble is yet.”

“I’ll soon settle it, sir, whatever it is,” vaunted Horace.  “Just you tell me about it, and leave the rest to me.”

“Ah, I see!  You’ve been a-carrying on,” diagnosed the cook, cheerfully.  “Well, we’ll soon choke ’er off.  I reckon, on the ‘Alert,’ you ought to pay me—”

“A widower!” repeated Captain Gooster, frowning at Mr. Dobb’s precipitancy.  “And I don’t mind confessing to you that I was disappointed in my marriage.  You see, I married for love.”

“Oh, well—” commented Horace, shrugging his shoulders.

“And she married me for my money.”

“Ah, women’ll do anything for money,” said Mr. Dobb.

Captain Gooster, sitting suddenly erect, dissected the observation in silence.

“I can see what a disappointment it must ’ave been for both of you,” continued Horace.  “’Owever, let’s ’ope you ’ave better luck next time, sir.”

“I mean to!” asserted Captain Gooster.  “Marrying for love is a snare and a sham and a deloosion.  I’ve learned wisdom.  ‘Strictly business!’ that’s my motter in future.”

“And it ain’t a bad motter, neither, sir,” approved Mr. Dobb, thoughtfully.  “Strictly business!” he repeated, nodding his head over it.  “It’s a jolly good motter.”

“Yes, and next time,” went on Captain Gooster, “I marries for money.  And I may add, what’s more, that I’ve got my eye on a certain lady already.”

“’As she got ’er eye on you, though?” queried Horace, sagely.

“She ’as.  In fact, not to beat about the bush, both of ’em ’as!”

“There’s two parties,” explained the master of the ‘Alert.’  “I’m keeping my eye upon both of ’em.”

“Once I ’ad my eye on two parties at the same time,” recalled Mr. Dobb.  “One day they got introduced to each other.  And I went ’ome in a cab.”

“My two ’ave known each other all their lives.”

“Well, they won’t go on knowing each other much longer,” acutely prophesied Mr. Dobb.

“And they lives together in the same ’ouse.”

“If you’ll excuse me saying so,” observed Horace, civilly, “you’ve got a dashed sight more pluck than sense.  Two in the some town is bad enough for the ’eart, with all the excitement you get in turning a corner when you’re out with one of ’em.  But two in the same ’ouse—”

“It’s mother and daughter, you see,” elucidated Captain Gooster.  “Goffley is the name.  Mrs. Goffley is a widow, and Ann’s ’er daughter.  They live in Shorehaven ’ere.”

“First I’ve ’eard of ’em,” said Horace.

“Ah, they’re new-comers.  They bought that little second-’and shop what Meyers used to keep at the corner of Fore Street.  A snug little business.  It only wants a man be’ind it, and it’ll be a little copper-mine.”

“And you’ve chosen yourself to be the man be’ind it?  Good luck to you, sir!”

“Well, which of ’em’s got the money?” asked Mr. Dobb.  “That ought to settle the question easy enough.”

“That’s just the trouble.  I can’t find out for certain which of ’em ’as got the cash.  I’ve ’eard rumours that old Goffley left all ’is money to ’is daughter, with instructions to ’er to look after ’er ma.  And then I’ve ’eard rumours that ’e’s left everything to ’is wife, with instructions to look after ’er daughter.  Far as I can see,” disconsolately ended Captain Gooster, “whichever of them females I marries, I shall always ’ave the other as a burden round my neck.”

“Which of ’em gives all the orders?” inquired Mr. Dobb.  “’Oo is the boss of the two?”

“They both bosses,” returned the skipper of the “Alert.”  “And they both tries to boss each other, most independent.  That’s what makes it so difficult.  I’ve tried all ways to find out which is the one I ought to make up to, but I can’t.  And that’s where I want your ’elp.”

“I see,” said Horace, softly.  “That’s what you’re going to give me a job on the ‘Alert’ for, eh?”

“Well, you get this job settled satisfactory for me, and you won’t ’ave no cause to complain,” promised Captain Gooster.  “You be ’elpful to me and you’ll be ’elpful to yourself.”

“Well, suppose you was to ask ’em straight out, sort of joking like, which one of ’em ’ad got the money,” suggested Horace, but with no great confidence.

“Tried that!” retorted Captain Gooster, curtly.  “No good.”

“They neither of them said nothing.  They just looked at me, and I began to talk about the weather.”

Horace, leaning back, folded his arms and tightly closed his eyes.  Captain Gooster realizing that his companion was thus incubating thought, forbore from offering further speech, but sat waiting in some anxiety for demonstration of Mr. Dobb’s ingenuity.

“You’ll ’ave to take me up there and let me see ’em,” said Horace, at length.  “Introdooce me to ’em as the new cook you’re signing for the ‘Alert.’  That’ll be the truth, so it’ll be quite all right.”

“What?  A skipper introdooce ’is new cook—”

“Well, if they seems surprised at all, you can tell ’em what a superior young man I am really, and ’ow I’m an old friend of yours, and so on.  It’s the only way I can do anything—I must see ’em personal.  Suppose I was to start making inquiries off the neighbours, for instance.  The fat would soon be in the fire then, wouldn’t it?”

“Matter of fact,” confessed the skipper, with reserve, “there ’as been more gossip about already than I care for.”

“Let me see ’em and keep my eyes open and ask a question ’ere and there, most innocent, and I’ll find out the truth quick enough,” boasted Mr. Dobb.  “It won’t be too late to call on ’em to-night, will it?  Just about right, I should think; with luck, we ought to catch ’em just at supper-time.  You wait ’ere, and I’ll run back and tidy myself a bit.”

“All right.  I should think that’s the best thing that can be done,” said Captain Gooster, ambiguously.

They found Mrs. Goffley and her daughter amid the ordered confusion of the little second-hand shop.  Captain Gooster made Horace known to the ladies as an old acquaintance unexpectedly encountered in the town.  Introductions thus achieved, the gentlemen were hospitably conducted to partake of supper amid the more congenial surroundings of the back parlour.

Mr. Dobb claimed but little prominence in the talk, and, indeed, seemed bent on eliminating himself as far as possible from the interest of his hostesses, and this was rendered the more easy for him by the fact that both ladies appeared to concentrate their attentions on the skipper of the “Alert.”  Mr. Dobb, however, was vigilant towards all that was going forward, and when once or twice the ladies bickered, he plainly submitted every word of their spirited utterance to the closest analysis.

And when at length they left the house, Horace had arrived at certain deductions, which he hastened to lay before Captain Gooster.

“Ah, but that’s just what I’m frightened of,” said Captain Gooster.  “Suppose I married the old lady, and one day she pegs out and the daughter gets the lot?  A nice return that ’ud be to me for all my kindness, wouldn’t it?”

“But there’s nothing to prevent the old lady ’anding over the money to ’er second ’usband while she’s alive, to speckylate with, is there?  And once it’s in your name—”

“’Orace, if I could only think ’alf as clear as you,” remarked Captain Gooster, “I’d be driving my own carriage and pair by now!”

He halted, gazed back at the Goffley abode, and patently came to decision.

“Wait ’ere for me,” he directed.  “I’m going to strike while the iron is hot.  I’m going to propose to the old geezer now and get it over!”

He traced his way to the shop, knocked, and was admitted.  Scarce five minutes had elapsed ere he was again at Horace’s side.  Captain Gooster’s reply, in response to an interested question, took the form of a fierce growl of wrath.

“What, she wouldn’t ’ave you?” asked Horace, in surprise.

“Oh, yes, she ’ad me right enough!” exclaimed Captain Gooster, with extreme bitterness.  “Oh, she’s ’ad me proper!  And you’ll get a job with me on the ‘Alert,’ I don’t think!  Clever?  Ha!  Smart?  Ha, ha!  Sharp?  Oh, ha, ha, ha!  Why, I believe your brains must be more like a wool mat than anything else!”

“But if she’s accepted you—”

“There you are!” cried Mr. Dobb.  “You picked the right one, anyway.”

“Wait a bit!” urged Captain Gooster.  “Of course, I says at once that I’m pained and ’urt by such a suggestion, and that of course I’m only marrying Mrs. Goffley for love.  ‘Sure?’ she asks, smiling at me in a way what would ’ave been tantalizing in a young gal.  ‘Positive certain!’ says I.  ‘Money,’ I says.  ‘What’s money to me?  I’ve got plenty of my own!’  ‘There you are!’ she says to Ann.  ‘Just as well though, ain’t it?’ says Ann, with a sniff.  ‘Because, you know, ma, you ain’t got any money, ’ave you?  It all belongs to me, don’t it?’”

Mr. Dobb, finding verbal comment inadequate, took off his cap and shook his head helplessly.

“Well, when I ’eard that,” narrated Captain Gooster, “the room sort of went round and round for a bit, and the next thing I knew was that I was saying I must not keep you waiting here any longer.  And, with that, I stumbled over the mat and left the place.  And as for you—”

“’Alf a minute, sir,” requested Mr. Dobb.  “I can see you don’t understand diplomaticism.  You ’ave to run a few risks to start with, and then you sets ’em right afterwards, when you’ve got what you wants—that’s diplomaticism.”

“If you was to get what you really wants—”

“Yes, and I’ve been and proposed to the mother!” groaned Captain Gooster.

“Well, you’ve only got to change over,” suggested Horace.

“Step back and say it was really Ann I meant to ask, I suppose?” groaned Captain Gooster.  “Just as if the daughter would ’ave anything to do with me now!  Just as if the old ’un would let me off ’er ’ooks now, the artful, deceiving old cat!”

“You could work up a quarrel with ’er,” prompted Mr. Dobb.

“She ain’t the sort to quarrel till after we’re married,” ruefully answered the skipper of the “Alert.”  “After that, it’ll be a different story, I bet!”

Mr. Dobb, coming to a standstill, lightly tickled the nape of his neck for some minutes.

“I’ve got it!” he pronounced, brightly.  “Call and see ’er to-morrow, and speak to ’er as man to man.  Tell ’er you made a mistake, and it ain’t love but only respect for ’er old age!”

He swung round and strode off, totally disregarding the expostulatory noises of his companion.  Mr. Dobb, thus deserted, sauntered along in restive dejection, but suddenly a greater decisiveness came into his bearing, and soon he was cantering along in eager pursuit of the master of the “Alert.”

“Now—now—now I ’ave got it, sir!” he puffed, catching up with Captain Gooster.  “Come to me in a flash, it did!  You must take me along to see the Goffleys again to-morrow night.”

Captain Gooster violently mentioned a mutual meeting, which involved considerable travel, as having priority over Mr. Dobb’s suggestion.

“You must keep on taking me there,” insisted Horace, undaunted.

“Just to make me laugh,” observed Captain Gooster, grimly, “tell me what the idea is.”

“Why, I’ll sink my feelings, and I’ll carry on a bit with the old gal!”

“Carry on with—” gasped the “Alert’s” skipper.

“Make goo-goo eyes at ’er, flirt with ’er, play slap-’ands with ’er,” amplified Mr. Dobb.  “And if you don’t give me a job on the ‘Alert’ after that—  Why, chaps ’as got medals for less than that!  Far less!”

“Give you a job on the ‘Alert’ for playing slap ’ands with my missis-to-be?” queried Captain Gooster, in bewilderment.

“Yes; and what ’appens to you?”

“Oh, I get that job on the ‘Alert’,” answered Horace, simply.  “You can trust me to protect myself safe enough where women are concerned.”

Captain Gooster, weighing the pros and cons, could detect no flaw in the scheme.  Next afternoon, by appointment, he met Mr. Dobb at the corner of Fore Street, and together they repaired to the little second-hand shop.  Enthusiastically did Mrs. Goffley bid them enter and stay to tea, an invitation which was signalized, rather than seconded, by a prolonged sniff from the younger lady.

Mr. Dobb, now reversing his behaviour of the previous evening, exhibited himself in the light of a sparkling blade.  Riddles galore did he propound to enliven the proceedings, and many were the diverting anecdotes he furnished forth, though, indeed, in some of these he checked himself, finishing them a trifle lamely with endings which had the flavour of improvisation about them.

His geniality, however, went far towards neutralizing the acrimony of Miss Goffley, and by the time adieux were said Captain Gooster was well satisfied with his confederate.

“I reckon you’ve made a fine start, ’Orace,” he said, as they strolled together down Fore Street.  “And to-morrow you must talk more particularly to the old gal, so as to give me a chance to try to make up a bit of the leeway with Ann.”

“Splendid!” was his patron’s verdict, when they left.  “I see she was a bit impatient at first, but before long she was listening to every word you said.  Why, she never even noticed that I was talking quite a lot to Ann.”

“Ah, and she was answering you, what’s more!  I see you!  What did you say to ’er?” asked Mr. Dobb, curiously.

“Oh, I was just sort of generally mysterious and wistful and ’eart-’eavy, like you advised,” replied Captain Gooster.  “And I got ’er to confess that there was a time when she ’oped—”

“Then she’s as good as yours!” joyfully declared Horace.  “And the berth on the ‘Alert’ is as good as mine!”

It was during the following evening that there occurred a startling development in the engagement of Captain Gooster to Mrs. Goffley.  Horace and that lady had been chatting together gaily, and Miss Goffley was permitting the captain to turn over her music at the piano for her, when suddenly the skipper of the “Alert” sprang to the centre of the room and crashed both his fists down upon the table.

Mrs. Goffley, with an agitated squeal, tugged her hand away from Mr. Dobb’s grasp.

“Too late, ma’am, too late!” thundered Captain Gooster.

“I—he—we—he was only telling me my fortune!” protested Mrs. Goffley, guiltily.

“Just because I was making myself pleasant to your friend,” began Mrs. Goffley, with spirit.

“You go on making yourself pleasant to ’im!” recommended Captain Gooster.  “I’m done with you!”

“And I must say, ma, I’m not surprised, either,” mentioned Miss Goffley, with a toss of her head.

“I’ve got witnesses to prove you was carrying-on,” said the captain.  “I’ve got the law on my side, and that’s all I need.  I’m finished with you, ma’am, and I wish you a very good evening.  Oh, a very good evening, indeed, ma’am!”

Aloofly averting his gaze from the agitated dame, he hurried from the house as speedily as possible.  Horace, half an hour later, came to him in the bar-parlour of the “Jolly Sailors.”

“There was a proper bust-up after you’d gone,” Mr. Dobb said, with relish.  “But, after they’d both ’ad ’istericks, things was a bit quieter.”

“And Mrs. Goffley?”

“She said it was good riddance to bad rubbish!  Said so over and over again.  And now for business after pleasure.  When do I start on the Alert’?”

“Well, we sails at the end of the week, as you know, on the same day as the ‘Jane Gladys.’  You can come then, if all goes well.”

“Ah, I knew I shouldn’t go begging for long!” said Horace, with considerable pride.  “I knew I shouldn’t be long finding something to suit me.”

“But, my word, what a life them two women will be leading each other for the next few weeks!” exclaimed Horace, with a shudder.

“I shall get Ann to keep quiet about our engagement when we are engaged.  And when we get married it’ll be by special licence, unbeknown to ’er ma.  I can afford it, if Ann’s got the money coming to ’er.”

“You take my advice, sir,” urged Horace, earnestly, “and rush your wedding through as quick as ever you can.  Don’t you run any risks, for the old gal will be doing all in ’er power to p’ison the young gal’s mind against you.  There’s many a slip between the bottle and the glass, don’t forget.”

“I’d get it settled to-morrow, if I could.”

“Well, luckily, I’m still friends there, don’t forget.  I’m waiting to quarrel with the old gal when it’s more convenient.  At present, she just sits looking loving and ’opeful at me.  And I’ll call round there to-morrow morning, first thing, and get Ann to meet you somewhere, and you must persuade ’er as ’ard as you can.  Pack all the love you’d make in a ordinary engagement into three days, an’ get ’er to marry you before you sails.  That’s the way to do things, if you wants to be sure of ’er.  And if you wants any odd notes or messages taken to ’er, I’ll see to ’em for you.”

“You don’t suppose I wants to go near the ’ouse, do you?” asked Captain Gooster, with a shiver.

Came the afternoon prior to the day which was to witness the departure both of the “Alert” and the “Jane Gladys” from Shorehaven.

Captain Simon Gooster, passing up Fore Street, had on his arm a lady whose countenance exhibited pride and triumph.  For a climax had been achieved at the registrar’s office, and Miss Ann Goffley was now Miss Ann Goffley no longer, but was, for better or for worse, Mrs. Simon Gooster.

“There’s no need to be flustered,” said the bridegroom to the bride, when they reached the little shop.  “We’ve got to break the news to ’er sooner or later, and ’Orace ’as promised to be on ’and to give us a ’elping word ’ere and there.  She can’t let off all the steam she’d like to—not in front of ’im.”

“I shall be flustered if I like!” insisted Mrs. Gooster. “Don’t you start ordering me about!  If I ain’t allowed to be flustered on my wedding-day, I should like to know when I am allowed to be.”

Captain Gooster, after a glance of dawning uneasiness at his bride, led the way through the shop.  The new Mrs. Gooster’s mother was unsuspectingly laying the table for tea, and Mr. Dobb, to the captain’s relief, was seated in the arm-chair.

“We’ve done it!” announced Captain Gooster.

“I’m Mrs. Gooster now,” said the younger lady.

“Lor’!” exclaimed Mrs. Goffley.  She turned to Horace and giggled coyly.  “Shall we tell ’em?” she asked.

“Lor’!” cried the skipper’s wife, in her turn.

“Quite private,” explained Horace, briefly.  “She even paid for the licence, so as to get it over quick.  I fancy she must ’ave guessed what you and—and Ann was up to.”

“Oh, well, there’s no accounting for tastes!” said the skipper of the “Alert.”  “Anyway, there can’t be any cause for ill-feeling between any of us now, can there? But, really, I don’t quite see, ’Orace, ’ow you come to—”

“So you two got married on the quiet, too, did you?” interrupted Mrs. Dobb, with a curious glint in her eyes.  “Well, p’r’aps you was wise.  Because, of course, you must ’ave known that I’d never ’ave given my consent, after the way you treated me, Cap’n Gooster?”

“Yes, I knew that well enough,” agreed the skipper.

“You married Ann for her money, of course,” stated the elder lady, dogmatically.

“Nothing of the sort!” stoutly maintained Captain Gooster.  “Love—nothing but love!  It was because I’d found out that it was ’er I really loved all the time that I broke it off with you.  If Ann ’adn’t got a single penny coming to ’er—”

“And she ’asn’t!” said Mrs. Dobb, with emphasis.

“Trying to frighten me?” suggested the smiling captain.  “Why, you admitted to me yourself that it was ’er that ’ad all the money!”

“So she ’ad,” returned Mrs. Gooster’s mother—“then!”

“What do you mean—then?” asked the captain, thickly.

“You—you knew when you advised me to—” roared the skipper, wheeling on Mr. Dobb.

“I did,” shamelessly admitted Mr. Dobb.  “Part of it I worked out, and part of it worked itself out for me!  You see, I—I ’appened to fall genuine in love with my new wife ’ere and—”

“You needn’t trouble to tell lies about it!” shouted the skipper.

“And don’t you roar at my ’usband like that, neither!” ordered the elder lady.  “And I may as well tell you that I’d ’ave taken ’im if I ’ated ’im—I’d ’ave taken the first man what come along!  Anything to let you see you wasn’t the only chance I’d got!  And—”

“Well, but what becomes of the money that should ’ave been ’ers—the money you’ve diddled me out of?” cried the captain.

“Why,” said Horace, softly, “it just stays with us!”

“And you knew this when you advised me to get married on the quiet to Ann, yonder?”

“Certingly,” said the unabashed Horace.  “Didn’t we both agree that ‘Strictly Business!’ was a jolly good motter?”

“And you,” went on the skipper, wheeling on his bride—“you didn’t tell me nothing, for fear of losing me?”

“Still, any time you’re passing,” said the cook, “I’ll be pleased to welcome my stepdaughter and my son-in-law.  I don’t bear no ill-will, and I shouldn’t like to think that others would.”

“Well, you’ve lost your berth on the ‘Alert,’ any way,” said Captain Gooster, inadequately.  “You needn’t think I’d ’ave you now, because I shouldn’t!”

“I’m afraid I couldn’t accept it, in any case,” said Mr. Horace Dobb.  “’Oo’s to look after the shop?  You said yourself that it needed a man, and I’ve provided myself for it.  And you know ’ow useful I can make myself, don’t you?”