Benn," said the widow, turning to the window again;
"I've got a lot to do when you've finished."

The boatswain groaned and fell to digging again, and Mrs. Waters, after
watching a little while longer, gave Mr. Travers some pointed
instructions about the window and went down to the garden again.

"That will do, I think," she said, stepping into the hole and regarding
it critically. "Now you'd better go straight off home, and, mind, not a
word to a soul about this."

She put her hand on his shoulder, and noticing with pleasure that he
shuddered at her touch led the way to the gate. The boat-swain paused
for a moment, as though about to speak, and then, apparently thinking
better of it, bade her good-bye in a hoarse voice and walked feebly up
the road. Mrs. Waters stood watching until his steps died away in the
distance, and then, returning to the garden, took up the spade and stood
regarding with some dismay the mountainous result of his industry. Mr.
Travers, who was standing just inside the back door, joined her.

"Let me," he said, gallantly.

The day was breaking as he finished his task. The clean, sweet air and
the exercise had given him an appetite to which the smell of cooking
bacon and hot coffee that proceeded from the house had set a sharper
edge. He took his coat from a bush and put it on. Mrs. Waters appeared
at the door.

"You had better come in and have some breakfast before you go," she said,
brusquely; "there's no more sleep for me now."

Mr. Travers obeyed with alacrity, and after a satisfying wash in the
scullery came into the big kitchen with his face shining and took a seat
at the table. The cloth was neatly laid, and Mrs. Waters, fresh and
cool, with a smile upon her pleasant face, sat behind the tray. She
looked at her guest curiously, Mr. Travers's spirits being somewhat
higher than the state of his wardrobe appeared to justify.

"Why don't you get some settled work?" she inquired, with gentle
severity, as he imparted snatches of his history between bites.

"Easier said than done," said Mr. Travers, serenely. "But don't you run
away with the idea that I'm a beggar, because I'm not. I pay my way,
such as it is. And, by-the-bye, I s'pose I haven't earned that two
pounds Benn gave me?"

His face lengthened, and he felt uneasily in his pocket.

"I'll give them to him when I'm tired of the joke," said the widow,
holding out her hand and watching him closely.

Mr. Travers passed