es from here, where I live," he said, after several vigorous puffs,
"there's a little public-'ouse called the Beehive, kept by a lady wot
I've got my eye on."

The soldier sat up.

"She won't 'ave me," said the boatswain, with an air of mild surprise.

The soldier leaned back again.

"She's a lone widder," continued Mr. Benn, shaking his head, "and the
Beehive is in a lonely place. It's right through the village, and the
nearest house is arf a mile off."

"Silly place for a pub," commented Mr. Travers.

"I've been telling her 'ow unsafe it is," said the boatswain. "I've been
telling her that she wants a man to protect her, and she only laughs at
me. She don't believe it; d'ye see? Likewise I'm a small man--small,
but stiff. She likes tall men."

"Most women do," said Mr. Travers, sitting upright and instinctively
twisting his moustache. "When I was in the ranks--"

"My idea is," continued the boatswain, slightly raising his voice, "to
kill two birds with one stone--prove to her that she does want being
protected, and that I'm the man to protect her. D'ye take my meaning,
mate?"

The soldier reached out a hand and felt the other's biceps. "Like a lump
o' wood," he said, approvingly.

"My opinion is," said the boatswain, with a faint smirk, "that she loves
me without knowing it."

"They often do," said Mr. Travers, with a grave shake of his head.

"Consequently I don't want 'er to be disappointed," said the other.

"It does you credit," remarked Mr. Travers.

"I've got a good head," said Mr. Benn, "else I shouldn't 'ave got my
rating as boatswain as soon as I did; and I've been turning it over in my
mind, over and over agin, till my brain-pan fair aches with it. Now, if
you do what I want you to to-night and it comes off all right, damme I'll
make it a quid."

"Go on, Vanderbilt," said Mr. Travers; "I'm listening."

The boatswain gazed at him fixedly. "You meet me 'ere in this spot at
eleven o'clock to-night," he said, solemnly; "and I'll take you to her
'ouse and put you through a little winder I know of. You goes upstairs
and alarms her, and she screams for help. I'm watching the house,
faithful-like, and hear 'er scream. I dashes in at the winder, knocks
you down, and rescues her. D'ye see?"

"I hear," corrected Mr. Travers, coldly.

"She clings to me," continued the boat-swain, with a rapt expression of
face, "in her gratitood, and, proud of my strength and pluck, she marries
me."