t to explain, though?" he suggested, breaking off.

"If you don't mind."

"You see I got a brother--a nelder brother, an' by name 'Enery; an' last
year he went for a miner in South Africa, at a place that I can't
neither spell nor pronounce till it winds up with 'bosh.' So we'll call
it Bosh."

"Right-o! But why did he go for that miner? To relieve 'is feelin's?"

"You don't understand. He went out _as_ a miner, havin' been a pit-hand
at the Blackstone Colliery, north o' Bursfield. Well, one week-end--
about a month before he started--he took a noliday an' went a trip with
me to Stratford aboard this very boat. Which for six months past I'd
'ad a neye upon a girl in Stratford. She was a General--"

"Salvation Army?"

"--A Cook-general, in a very respectable 'ouse'old--a publican's, at the
'Four Alls' by Binton Bridges. Me bein' shy--as you may 'ave noticed--
I 'adn't, as you might say, put it to 'er; an' likewise until the matter
was settled I didn' like to tell 'Enery. But I interjuced 'im--the same
bein' 'er Sunday out; an' afterwards, when he called 'er a monstrous
fine girl, I felt as 'appy as if he'd given me ten shillin'. Which only
proves," Sam commented bitterly, "what I say in the next verse--"

"I'd rather be in prison
Than in this earthly dwellin',
Where nothin' is but it isn'--
An there ain't no means of tellin'!"

"--Which when, the night before he started, he comes to me an' says that
he an' Mary 'ave made a match of it, an' would I mind keepin' an eye on
'er an' writin' regilar to say 'ow she was gettin' on, it fair knocked
me out."

"You never told 'im?"

"I didn' like to. To start with 'e was always my fav'rite brother, an'
I couldn' bear his startin' in low sperits an' South Africa such a
distance off; beside which, I told mysel', the girl must surely know 'er
own mind. So now you know," concluded Sam, "what I means by the nex'
verse--"

"Stratford-on-Avon, Stratford-on-Avon--
My true love she is false;
I 'd rather not go to Stratford-on-Avon
If I could go anywheres else."

"But you promised to keep an eye on her."

"'Enery 'ears from me regilar," said Sam evasively.

"If you don't pay 'er no visits," Tilda insisted, "the more you write
the more you must be tellin' lies; an' that's not fair to 'Enery."

Sam considered this for a while, and ended by drawing a folded scrap of
paper from his trouser-pocket.

"I don't tell no more than can