“Found a what?” inquired Mr. Wilks, wrinkling his forehead.

“A ha’penny,” said his friend.

“Who did?” said Mr. Wilks.

The other attempted to explain and was ably assisted by two friends, but without avail; the impression left on Mr. Wilks’s mind being that somebody had got a shilling of his.  He waxed exceeding bitter, and said that he had been missing shillings for a long time.

“You’re labourin’ under a mistake, Sam,” said the first speaker.

Mr. Wilks laughed scornfully and essayed a sneer, while his friends, regarding his contortions with some anxiety, expressed a fear that he was not quite himself.  To this suggestion the steward deigned no reply, and turning to the landlord bade him replenish his mug.

“You’ve ’ad enough, Mr. Wilks,” said that gentleman, who had been watching him for some time.

Mr. Wilks, gazing at him mistily, did not at first understand the full purport of this remark; but when he did, his wrath was so majestic and his remarks about the quality of the brew so libellous that the landlord lost all patience.

“You get off home,” he said, sharply.

“Listen t’ me,” said Mr. Wilks, impressively.

“I don’t want no words with you,” said the land-lord.  “You get off home while you can.”

“That’s right, Sam,” said one of the company, putting his hand on the steward’s arm.  “You take his advice.”

Mr. Wilks shook the hand off and eyed his adviser ferociously.  Then he took a glass from the counter and smashed it on the floor.  The next moment the bar was in a ferment, and the landlord, gripping Mr. Wilks round the middle, skilfully piloted him to the door and thrust him into the road.

[Illustration:  “He took a glass from the counter and smashed it on the floor.”]

The strong air blowing from the sea disordered the steward’s faculties still further.  His treatment inside was forgotten, and, leaning against the front of the tavern, he stood open-mouthed, gazing at marvels.  Ships in the harbour suddenly quitted their native element and were drawn up into the firmament; nobody passed but twins.

“Evening, Mr. Wilks,” said a voice.

The steward peered down at the voice.  At first he thought it was another case of twins, but looking close he saw that it was Mr. Edward Silk alone.  He saluted him graciously, and then, with a wave of his hand toward the sky, sought to attract his attention to the ships there.

“Yes,” said the unconscious Mr. Silk, sign of a fine day to-morrow.  “Are you going my way?”

Mr. Wilks smiled, and detaching himself from the tavern with some difficulty just saved Mr. Silk from a terrible fall by clutching him forcibly round the neck.  The ingratitude of Mr. Silk was a rebuff to a nature which was at that moment overflowing with good will.  For a moment the steward was half inclined to let him go home alone, but the reflection that he would never get there softened him.