Miss Jelks released her arm again, and for some time they walked on opposite sides of the lane. Her temper rose rapidly, and at last, tearing off her glove, she drew the ring from her finger and handed it to the boatswain. “There you are!” she exclaimed. “Take it!” Mr. Walters took it, and, after a vain attempt to place it on his little finger, put it in his waistcoat-pocket and walked on whistling. “We’re not engaged now,” explained Rosa. “Aye, aye,” said the boatswain, cheerfully. “Only walking out.” “Nothing of the kind,” said Rosa. “I sha’n’t have nothing more to do with you. You’d better tell Bassett.” “What for?” demanded the other. “What for?” repeated Rosa. “Why, there’s no use him watching me now.” “Why not?” demanded Mr. Walters. Miss Jelks caught her breath impatiently. “Because it’s got nothing to do with you what I do now,” she said, sharply. “I can go out with who I like.” “Ho!” said the glaring Mr. Walters. “Ho! Can you? So that’s your little game, is it? Here—” He fumbled in his pocket and, producing the ring, caught Miss Jelks’s hand in a grip that made her wince, and proceeded to push it on her little finger. “Now you behave yourself, else next time I’ll take it back for good.” Miss Jelks remonstrated, but in vain. The boatswain passed his left arm about her waist, and when she became too fluent increased the pressure until she gasped for breath. Much impressed by these signs of affection she began to yield, and, leaning her head against his shoulder, voluntarily renewed her vows of seclusion. She went down to the harbour next day to see him off, and stood watching with much interest the bustle on deck and the prominent share borne by her masterful admirer. To her thinking, Captain Trimblett, stiff and sturdy on the bridge, played but a secondary part. She sent the boatswain little signals of approval and regard, a proceeding which was the cause of much subsequent trouble to a newly joined A.B. who misunderstood their destination. The warps were thrown off, a bell clanged in the engine-room, the screw revolved, and a gradually widening piece of water appeared between the steamer and the quay. Men on board suspended work for a moment for a last gaze ashore, and no fewer than six unfortunates responded ardently to the fluttering of her handkerchief. She stood watching until the steamer had disappeared round a bend in the river, and then, with a sense of desolation and a holiday feeling for which there was no outlet, walked slowly home. She broke her promise to the boatswain the following evening. For one thing, it was her “evening out,” and for another she felt that the sooner the Bassett nuisance was stopped, the better it would be for all concerned. If the youth failed to see her she was the gainer to the extent of an evening in the open air, and if he did not she had an idea that the emergency would not find her unprepared.