“She’s not my missus,” I ses; “she’s a complete stranger to me.”

“And causing a crowd to collect and refusing to go away,” ses the other policeman.

“That’s your business,” I ses.  “It’s nothing to do with me.”

They talked to each other for a moment, and then they spoke to the woman.  I didn’t ’ear wot she said, but I saw her shake her ’ead, and a’most direckly arterwards she was marching away between the two policemen with the crowd follering and advising ’er where to kick ’em.

I was a bit worried at fust—­not about her—­and then I began to think that p’raps it was the best thing that could have ’appened.

I went ’ome in the morning with a load lifted off my mind; but I ’adn’t been in the ’ouse two seconds afore my missus started to put it on agin.  Fust of all she asked me ’ow I dared to come into the ’ouse, and then she wanted to know wot I meant by leaving her at ’ome and going out for the day with another woman.

“You told me to,” I ses.

“Oh, yes,” she ses, trembling with temper.  “You always do wot I tell you, don’t you?  Al-ways ’ave, especially when it’s anything you like.”

She fetched a bucket o’ water and scrubbed the kitchen while I was having my brekfuss, but I kept my eye on ’er, and, the moment she ’ad finished, I did the perlite and emptied the bucket for ’er, to prevent mistakes.

I read about the case in the Sunday paper, and I’m thankful to say my name wasn’t in it.  All the magistrate done was to make ’er promise that she wouldn’t do it again, and then he let ‘er go.  I should ha’ felt more comfortable if he ’ad given ’er five years, but, as it turned out, it didn’t matter.  Her ’usband happened to read it, and, whether ’e was tired of living alone, or whether he was excited by ’caring that she ’ad got a little general shop, ’e went back to her.

The fust I knew about it was they came round to the wharf to see me.  He ’ad been a fine-looking chap in ’is day, and even then ’e was enough like me for me to see ’ow she ’ad made the mistake; and all the time she was telling me ’ow it ’appened, he was looking me up and down and sniffing.

“’Ave you got a cold?” I ses, at last.

“Wot’s that got to do with you?” he ses.  “Wot do you mean by walking out with my wife?  That’s what I’ve come to talk about.”

For a moment I thought that his bad luck ’ad turned ’is brain.  “You’ve got it wrong,” I ses, as soon as I could speak.  “She walked out with me.”

“Cos she thought you was her ’usband,” he ses, “but you didn’t think you was me, did you?”

“’Course I didn’t,” I ses.

“Then ’ow dare you walk out with ’er?” he ses.

“Look ’ere!” I ses.  “You get off ’ome as quick as you like.  I’ve ’ad about enough of your family.  Go on, hook it.”

Afore I could put my ’ands up he ’it me hard in the mouth, and the next moment we was at it as ’ard as we could go.  Nearly every time I hit ’im he wasn’t there, and every time ‘e hit me I wished I hadn’t ha’ been.  When I said I had ’ad enough, ’e contradicted me and kept on, but he got tired of it at last, and, arter telling me wot he would do if I ever walked ‘is wife out agin, they went off like a couple o’ love-birds.