Gunnill, with an air of cold dignity.
"Why," said Mr. Drill, "what I mean is--look at that night, for instance,
when----"
He broke off suddenly, even his enthusiasm not being proof against the
extraordinary contortions of visage in which Mr. Gunnill was indulging.
"When?" prompted Selina and Mr. Sims together. Mr. Gunnill, after first
daring him with his eye, followed suit.
"That night at the Crown," said Mr. Drill, awkwardly. "You know; when
you thought that Joe Baggs was the landlord. You tell 'em; you tell it
best. I've roared over it."
"I don't know what you're driving at," said the harassed Mr. Gunnill,
bitterly.
"H'm!" said Mr. Drill, with a weak laugh. "I've been mixing you up with
somebody else."
Mr. Gunnill, obviously relieved, said that he ought to be more careful,
and pointed out, with some feeling, that a lot of mischief was caused
that way.
"Cooper wants a lesson, that's what he wants," said Mr. Sims, valiantly.
"He'll get his head broke one of these days."
Mr. Gunnill acquiesced. "I remember when I was on the _Peewit,_" he
said, musingly, "one time when we were lying at Cardiff, there was a
policeman there run one of our chaps in, and two nights afterward another
of our chaps pushed the policeman down in the mud and ran off with his
staff and his helmet.
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