Lady of the Barge | Page 6

of a considerable
hubbub both men were drawn from the water.
The skipper shook himself like a dog, but the mate lay on the deck inert
in a puddle of water. Mrs. Gibbs frantically slapped his hands; and
Miss Harris, bending over him, rendered first aid by kissing him wildly.
Captain Gibbs pushed her away. "He won't come round while you're
a-kissing of him," he cried, roughly.
To his indignant surprise the drowned man opened one eye and winked
acquiescence. The skipper dropped his arms by his side and stared at
him stupidly.
"I saw his eyelid twitch," cried Mrs. Gibbs, joyfully.
"He's all right," said her indignant husband; "'e ain't born to be drowned,
'e ain't. I've spoilt a good suit of clothes for nothing."
To his wife's amazement, he actually walked away from the insensible
man, and with a boathook reached for his hat, which was floating by.
Mrs. Gibbs, still gazing in blank astonishment, caught a seraphic smile
on the face of her brother as Miss Harris continued her ministrations,
and in a pardonable fit of temper the overwrought woman gave him a
box on the ear, which brought him round at once.
"Where am I?" he inquired, artlessly.
Mrs. Gibbs told him. She also told him her opinion of him, and without
plagiarizing her husband's words, came to the same conclusion as to his
ultimate fate.
"You come along home with me," she said, turning in a friendly
fashion to the bewildered girl. "They deserve what they've got--both of
'em. I only hope that they'll both get such awful colds that they won't
find their voices for a twelvemonth."

She took the girl by the arm and helped her ashore. They turned their
heads once in the direction of the barge, and saw the justly incensed
skipper keeping the mate's explanations and apologies at bay with a
boat- hook. Then they went in to breakfast.

THE MONKEY'S PAW
I.
Without, the night was cold and wet, but in the small parlour of
Laburnam Villa the blinds were drawn and the fire burned brightly.
Father and son were at chess, the former, who possessed ideas about
the game involving radical changes, putting his king into such sharp
and unnecessary perils that it even provoked comment from the
white-haired old lady knitting placidly by the fire.
"Hark at the wind," said Mr. White, who, having seen a fatal mistake
after it was too late, was amiably desirous of preventing his son from
seeing it.
"I'm listening," said the latter, grimly surveying the board as he
stretched out his hand. "Check."
"I should hardly think that he'd come to-night," said his father, with his
hand poised over the board.
"Mate," replied the son.
"That's the worst of living so far out," bawled Mr. White, with sudden
and unlooked-for violence; "of all the beastly, slushy, out-of-the-way
places to live in, this is the worst. Pathway's a bog, and the road's a
torrent. I don't know what people are thinking about. I suppose because
only two houses in the road are let, they think it doesn't matter."
"Never mind, dear," said his wife, soothingly; "perhaps you'll win the
next one."

Mr. White looked up sharply, just in time to intercept a knowing glance
between mother and son. The words died away on his lips, and he hid a
guilty grin in his thin grey beard.
"There he is," said Herbert White, as the gate banged to loudly and
heavy footsteps came toward the door.
The old man rose with hospitable haste, and opening the door, was
heard condoling with the new arrival. The new arrival also condoled
with himself, so that Mrs. White said, "Tut, tut!" and coughed gently as
her husband entered the room, followed by a tall, burly man, beady of
eye and rubicund of visage.
"Sergeant-Major Morris," he said, introducing him.
The sergeant-major shook hands, and taking the proffered seat by the
fire, watched contentedly while his host got out whiskey and tumblers
and stood a small copper kettle on the fire.
At the third glass his eyes got brighter, and he began to talk, the little
family circle regarding with eager interest this visitor from distant parts,
as he squared his broad shoulders in the chair and spoke of wild scenes
and doughty deeds; of wars and plagues and strange peoples.
"Twenty-one years of it," said Mr. White, nodding at his wife and son.
"When he went away he was a slip of a youth in the warehouse. Now
look at him."
"He don't look to have taken much harm," said Mrs. White, politely.
"I'd like to go to India myself," said the old man, "just to look round a
bit, you know."
"Better where you are," said the sergeant-major, shaking his head. He
put down the empty