She turned away, and, pink with annoyance, proceeded to arrange her hair
in a small cracked glass that hung by the mantel-piece.
“I ’ad a cousin once,” said Mr. Walters, thoughtfully, “that used to let
her ’air down and sit on it. Tall gal, too, she was.”
“So can I,” snapped Rosa, rolling the tress up on her finger, holding it
in place, and transfixing it with a hair-pin.
“_H’m_” said the boatswain.
“What d’ye mean by ‘_H’m_’?” demanded Rosa, sharply. “Do you mean to say I
can’t?”
“You might if you cut it off first,” conceded Mr. Walters.
“Cut it off?” said Rosa, scornfully. “Here! Look here!”
She dragged out her hair-pins and with a toss of her head sent the
coarse yellow locks flying. Then, straightening them slightly, she
pulled out a chair and confronted him triumphantly. And at that moment
the front-room bell rang.
“That’s for you,” said Mr. Walters, pointedly.
Rosa, who was already back at the glass, working with feverish haste,
made no reply. The bell rang again, and a third time, Rosa finally
answering it in a coiffure that looked like a hastily constructed bird’s
nest.
“There’s your letter,” she said, returning with a face still flushed.
“Take it and go.”
“Thankee,” said the boatswain. “Was they very frightened?”
“Take it and go,” repeated Rosa, with cold dignity. “Your young woman
might be expecting you; pity to keep her waiting.”
“I ain’t got a young woman,” said Mr. Walters, slowly.
“You surprise me!” said Rosa, with false astonishment.
“I never would ’ave one,” said the boatswain, rising, and placing the
letter in his breast-pocket. “I’ve got along all right for thirty years
without ’em, and I ain’t going to begin now.”
“You must have broke a lot of hearts with disappointment,” said Rosa.
“I never could see anything in young wimmen,” said the boatswain,
musingly. “Silly things, most of ’em. Always thinking about their looks;
especially them as haven’t got none.”
He took up the empty glass and toyed with it thoughtfully.
“It’s no good waiting,” said Rosa; “you won’t get no more beer; not if
you stay here all night.”
“So long!” said the boatswain, still playing with the glass. “So long! I
know one or two that’ll ’ave a fit pretty near when I tell ’em about you
sitting on your ’air.”
He put up his left arm instinctively, but Miss Jelks by a supreme effort
maintained her calmness. Her eyes and colour were beyond her control,
but her voice remained steady.
“So long!” she said, quietly. She took the glass from him and smiled.
“If you like to wait a moment, I’ll get you a little drop more,” she
said, graciously.
“Here’s luck!” said Mr. Walters, as she returned with the glass. He
drank it slowly and then, wiping his lips with the back of his hand,
stood regarding her critically.
“Well, so long!” he said again, and, before the astonished maiden could
resist, placed a huge arm about her neck and kissed her.
“You do that again, if you dare!” she gasped, indignantly, as she broke
loose and confronted him. “The idea!”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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