“Well, I’m glad you’ve turned over a new leaf,” said Mrs. Pinner. “It ain’t afore it was time, I’m sure. I’ll go up and fetch the baby down.” “What for?” demanded her husband, shortly. “So as it can see a little of you too,” said his wife. “Up to the present it calls every man it sees ‘farver.’ It ain’t its fault, pore little dear.” Mr. Pinner, still intent on footsteps, grumbled something beneath his breath, and the baby being awakened out of its first sleep and brought downstairs, they contemplated each other for some time with offensive curiosity. Until next morning Mr. Pinner’s odd reasons for his presence sufficed, but when he sat still after breakfast and showed clearly his intention to remain, his wife insisted upon others less insulting to her intelligence. Mr. Pinner, prefacing his remarks with an allusion to a life-long abhorrence of red whiskers, made a clean breast of it. “It served him right,” said his wife, judicially, ‘but it’ll be six months for you if they nab you, Charlie. You’ll ’ave to make up your mind to a quiet spell indoors with me and baby till the ship sails.” Mr. Pinner looked at his son and heir disparagingly, and emitted a groan. “He ’ad no witnesses,” he remarked, “except a boy, that is, and ’e didn’t look the sort to be fond o’ policemen.” “You can’t tell by looks,” replied his wife, in whose brain a little plan to turn this escapade to good account was slowly maturing. “You mustn’t get nabbed for my sake.” “I won’t get nabbed for my own sake,” rejoined Mr. Pinner, explicitly. “I wonder whether it’s got into the papers?” “Sure to,” said his wife, shaking her head. “Go and buy one and see,” said the fireman, glancing at the baby. “I’ll look after it, but don’t be long.” His wife went out and got a paper, and Mr. Pinner, who was unable to read, watched her anxiously as she looked through it. It was evident, at length, that his prowess of the previous evening had escaped being immortalised in print, and his spirits rose. “I don’t s’pose he was much ’urt,” he said. “I dare say he wouldn’t like to tell ’em at the station he’d been knocked down. Some of ’em don’t. I’ll just keep my eyes open when I’m out.” “I don’t think you ought to go out,” said his wife. She picked up the paper again, and regarded him furtively. Then she bent over it, and slowly scanned the pages, until a sudden horrified gasp drove the roses from Mr. Pinner’s cheek and prepared him for the worst, “Wot is it?” he stammered. Mrs. Pinner folded the paper back and, motioning him to silence, read as follows:— “A violent assault was committed last night on a policeman down at Wapping, who was knocked down by a seafaring man until he got concussion of the brain. The injured constable states that he can identify the man what attacked him, and has given a full description of him at the police-station, where search is now being made for ’im. The public-houses are being watched.”