CHAPTER ELEVEN. 

A CONSULTATION, A FEAST, AND A PLOT. 

There was--probably still is--a coffee-tavern in Gorleston where, in a cleanly, cheerful room, a retired fisherman and his wife, of temperance principles, supplied people with those hot liquids which are said to cheer without inebriating. 

Here, by appointment, two friends met to discuss matters of grave importance. One was Bob Lumsden, the other his friend and admirer Pat Stiver. Having asked for and obtained two large cups of coffee and two slices of buttered bread for some ridiculously small sum of money, they retired to the most distant corner of the room, and, turning their backs on the counter, began their discussion in low tones. 

Being early in the day, the room had no occupants but themselves and the fisherman's wife, who busied herself in cleaning and arranging plates, cups, and saucers, etcetera, for expected visitors. 

"Pat," said Bob, sipping his coffee with an appreciative air, "I've turned a total abstainer." 

"W'ich means?" inquired Pat. 

"That I don't drink nothin' at all," replied Bob. 

"But you're a-drinkin' now!" said Pat. 

"You know what I mean, you small willain; I drink nothin' with spirits in it." 

"Well, I don't see what you gains by that, Bob, for I heerd Fred Martin say you was nat'rally `full o' spirit,' so abstainin' 'll make no difference." 

"Pat," said Bob sternly, "if you don't clap a stopper on your tongue, I'll wollop you." 

Pat became grave at once. "Well, d'ee know, Bob," he said, with an earnest look, "I do b'lieve you are right. You've always seemed to me as if you had a sort o' dissipated look, an' would go to the bad right off if you gave way to drink. Yes, you're right, an' to prove my regard for you I'll become a total abstainer too--but, nevertheless, I _can't_ leave off drinkin'." 
Why?
 to discuss matters of grave importance