He walked off a little way as the man re-entered the bar. A second or two later, the carman came out alone. “’E ses come inside ’e ses if you want to see ’im.” “I can’t,” said Flower. “Why not?” asked the other, as a horrible suspicion dawned upon him. “Strewth, you ain’t a teetotaler, are you?” “No,” replied the skipper, “but I can’t go in.” “Well ’e won’t come out,” said the other; “’e seems to be a short-tempered sort o’ man.” “I must see him,” said the skipper, pondering. Then a happy thought struck him, and he smiled at his cleverness. “Tell him a little flower wants to see him,” he said, briskly. “A little wot?” demanded the carman, blankly. “A little flower,” repeated the other. “Where is she?” enquired the carman, casting his eyes about him. “You just say that,” said the skipper, hurriedly. “You shall have a pint if you do. He’ll understand.” It was unfortunate for the other that the skipper had set too high an estimation on Joe’s intelligence, for the information being imparted to him in the audible tones of confidence, he first gave his mug to Mr. William Green to hold, and then knocked the ambassador down. The loud laugh consequent on the delivery of the message ceased abruptly, and in the midst of a terrific hubbub Joe and his victim, together with two or three innocent persons loudly complaining that they hadn’t finished their beer, were swept into the street. “He’ll be all right in a minute, mate,” said a bystander to Joe, anxiously; “don’t run away.” “’Tain’t so likely,” said Joe, scornfully. “Wot did you ’it me for?” demanded the victim, turning a deaf ear to two or three strangers who were cuddling him affectionately and pointing out, in alluring whispers, numberless weak points in Joe’s fleshly armour. “I’ll ’it you agin if you come into a pub making a fool of me afore people,” replied the sensitive seaman, blushing hotly with the recollection of the message. “He told me to,” said the carman, pointing to Flower, who was lurking in the background. The tall seaman turned fiercely and strode up to him, and then, to the scandal of the bystanders and the dismay of Mr. William Green, gave a loud yell and fled full speed up the road. Flower followed in hot pursuit, and owing, perhaps, to the feeling of lightness before mentioned, ran him down nearly a mile farther on, Mr. Green coming in a good second. “Keep orf,” panted the seaman, backing into a doorway. “Keep—it—orf!” “Don’t be a fool, Joe,” said the skipper. “Keep orf,” repeated the trembling seaman. His fear was so great that Mr. Green, who had regarded him as a tower of strength and courage, and had wormed himself into the tall seaman’s good graces by his open admiration of these qualities, stood appalled at his idol’s sudden lack of spirit. “Don’t be a fool, Joe,” said the skipper, sharply; “can’t you see it’s me?” “I thought you was drownded,” said the trembling seaman, still regarding him suspiciously. “I thought you was a ghost.”