r am I?"

"Meaning," said the boatswain, waving the imputation away with his hand,
"for you to pretend to be a burglar."

"We're both drunk, that's what it is," said the other, resignedly.

The boatswain fidgeted. "If you don't agree, mum's the word and no 'arm
done," he said, holding out his hand.

"Mum's the word," said the soldier, taking it. "My name's Ned Travers,
and, barring cells for a spree now and again, there's nothing against it.
Mind that."

"Might 'appen to anybody," said Mr. Benn, soothingly. "You fill your
pipe and don't go chucking good tobacco away agin."

Mr. Travers took the offered box and, with economy born of adversity,
stooped and filled up first with the plug he had thrown away. Then he
resumed his seat and, leaning back luxuriously, bade the other "fire
away."

"I ain't got it all ship-shape and proper yet," said Mr. Benn, slowly,
"but it's in my mind's eye. It's been there off and on like for some
time."

He lit his pipe again and gazed fixedly at the opposite hedge. "Two
miles 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