“One o’ them silly gals went off agin just like a damp firework, and Mr. Watson, arter nearly choking ‘imself with temper, shoved me out o’ the way and marched out o’ the shop.  I didn’t know wot to make of ’im at fust, and then one o’ the gals told me that ’e was a bachelor and ’adn’t got no son, and that somebody ’ad been taking advantage of what she called my innercence to pull my leg.

“’You toddle off ‘ome,’ she ses, ‘before Mr. Watson comes back.’

“’It’s a shame to let ‘im come out alone,’ ses one o’ the other gals.  ‘Where do you live, gran’pa?’

“I see then that I ‘ad been done, and I was just walking out o’ the shop, pretending to be deaf, when Mr. Watson come back with a silly young policeman wot asked me wot I meant by it.  He told me to get off ’ome quick, and actually put his ’and on my shoulder, but it ’ud take more than a thing like that to push me, and, arter trying his ’ardest, he could only rock me a bit.

“I went at last because I wanted to see that boy agin, and the young policeman follered me quite a long way, shaking his silly ’ead at me and telling me to be careful.

“I got a ride part o’ the way from Commercial Road to Aldgate by getting on the wrong bus, but it wasn’t much good, and I was quite tired by the time I got back to the wharf.  I waited outside for a minute or two to get my wind back agin, and then I went in-boiling.

“You might ha’ knocked me down with a feather, as the saying is, and I just stood inside the office speechless.  The boy ’ad disappeared and sitting on the floor where I ’ad left ’im was a very nice-looking gal of about eighteen, with short ’air, and a white blouse.

“‘Good evening, sir,’ she ses, jumping up and giving me a pretty little frightened look.  ’I’m so sorry that my brother has been deceiving you.  He’s a bad, wicked, ungrateful boy.  The idea of telling you that Mr. Watson was ’is father!  Have you been there?  I do ’ope you’re not tired.’

“‘Where is he?’ I ses.

“‘He’s gorn,’ she ses, shaking her ’ead.  ’I begged and prayed of ’im to stop, but ’e wouldn’t.  He said ’e thought you might be offended with ’im.  “Give my love to old Roley-Poley, and tell him I don’t trust ’im,” he ses.’

“She stood there looking so scared that I didn’t know wot to say.  By and by she took out ’er little pocket-’ankercher and began to cry—­

“’Oh, get ‘im back,’ she ses.  ’Don’t let it be said I follered ’im ’ere all the way for nothing.  Have another try.  For my sake!’

“’’Ow can I get ‘im back when I don’t know where he’s gorn?’ I ses.

“’He-he’s gorn to ‘is godfather,’ she ses, dabbing her eyes.  ’I promised ‘im not to tell anybody; but I don’t know wot to do for the best.’

“’Well, p’r’aps his godfather will ’old on to ‘im,’ I ses.

“’He won’t tell ‘im anything about going to sea,’ she ses, shaking ’er little head.  ’He’s just gorn to try and bo—­bo-borrow some money to go away with.’