Stiles sitting in the doorway with a pipe, went down to the widow's to
make the best explanation he could think of on the way. Mrs. Dutton's
fresh-coloured face changed as he entered the shop, and her still good
eyes regarded him with scornful interrogation.
"I--saw you last night," began Mr. Burton, timidly.
"I saw you, too," said Mrs. Dutton. "I couldn't believe my eyesight at
first."
"It was an old shipmate of mine," said Mr. Burton. "He hadn't seen me
for years, and I suppose the sight of me upset 'im."
"I dare say," replied the widow; "that and the Cock and Flowerpot, too.
I heard about it."
"He would go," said the unfortunate.
"You needn't have gone," was the reply.
"I 'ad to," said Mr. Burton, with a gulp; "he--he's an old officer o'
mine, and it wouldn't ha' been discipline for me to refuse."
"Officer?" repeated Mrs. Dutton.
"My old admiral," said Mr. Burton, with a gulp that nearly choked him.
"You've heard me speak of Admiral Peters?"
"_Admiral?_" gasped the astonished widow.
"What, a-carrying on like that?"
"He's a reg'lar old sea-dog," said Mr. Burton. "He's staying with me,
but of course 'e don't want it known who he is.
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