Before the mate could prevent her she had taken the two pounds and put it in her pocket. He looked at her placid face in amazement, but she met his gaze calmly and drummed on the table with her thimble. “No, no, I want the money myself,” said the mate at last. He put his hands to his head and began to prepare for the grand transformation scene. “My head’s gone,” he said, in a gurgling voice. “What am I doing here? Where am I?” “Good gracious, what’s the matter with the man?” said Mrs. Bradd, with a scream. She snatched up a bowl of flowers and flung the contents in his face as her husband burst into the room. The mate sprang to his feet, spluttering. “What am I doing here, Cap’n Bradd?” he said in his usual voice. “He’s come round!” said Bradd, ecstatically. “He’s come round. Oh, George, you have been playing the fool. Don’t you know what you’ve been doing?” The mate shook his head, and stared round the room. “I thought we were in London,” he said, putting his hand to his head. “You said Cap’n Zingall was coming aboard. How did we get here? Where am I?” In a hurried, breathless fashion the skipper told him, the mate regarding him the while with a stare of fixed incredulity. “I can’t understand it,” he said at length. “My mind’s a perfect blank.” “A perfect blank,” said Mrs. Bradd, cheerfully. It might have been accident, but she tapped her pocket as she spoke, and the outwitted mate bit his lip as he realised his blunder, and turned to the door. The couple watched him as he slowly passed up the street. “It’s most extraordinary,” said the skipper; “the most extraordinary case I ever heard of.” “So it is,” said his wife, “and what’s more extraordinary still for you, Ben, you’re going to church on Sunday, and what’s more extraordinary even than that, you are going to put two golden sovereigns in the plate.” TWIN SPIRITS The “Terrace,” consisting of eight gaunt houses, faced the sea, while the back rooms commanded a view of the ancient little town some half mile distant. The beach, a waste of shingle, was desolate and bare except for a ruined bathing machine and a few pieces of linen drying in the winter sunshine. In the offing tiny steamers left a trail of smoke, while sailing-craft, their canvas glistening in the sun, slowly melted from the sight. On all these things the “Terrace” turned a stolid eye, and, counting up its gains of the previous season, wondered whether it could hold on to the next. It was a discontented “Terrace,” and had become prematurely soured by a Board which refused them a pier, a band-stand, and illuminated gardens. From the front windows of the third storey of No. 1 Mrs. Cox, gazing out to sea, sighed softly.