When she had gone, and the door had closed upon her, he started
suddenly to his feet, and followed. He was just in time to see her
leave the house with her grandfather, and with a big, ill-looking man,
half-sailor, half-landsman, who had been drinking at the bar.

The landlord was standing behind the bar, drawing beer, as Jernam
looked out into the street, watching the receding figures of the girl
and her two companions.

"She's a pretty girl, isn't she?" said the landlord, as Jernam shut the
door.

"She is, indeed!" cried the sailor. "Who is she?--where does she come
from?--what's her name?"

"Her name is Jenny Milsom, and she lives with her father, a very
respectable man."

"Was that her father who went out with her just now?"

"Yes, that's Tom Milsom."

"He doesn't look very respectable. I don't think I ever set eyes on a
worse-looking fellow."

"A man can't help his looks," answered the landlord, rather sulkily;
"I've known Tom Milsom these ten years, and I've never known any harm
of him."