“‘Cabin-boy?’ I ses.  ‘No, I ain’t.’

“’I’ve run away from ‘ome to go to sea,’ he ses, and I’m afraid of being pursued.  Can I come inside?’

“Afore I could say ‘No’ he ’ad come, bag and all; and afore I could say anything else he ’ad nipped into the office and stood there with his ’and on his chest panting.

“‘I know I can trust you,’ he ses; ’I can see it by your face.”

“’Wot ’ave you run away from ‘ome for?’ I ses.  ’Have they been ill-treating of you?’

“‘Ill-treating me?’ he ses, with a laugh.  ’Not much.  Why, I expect my father is running about all over the place offering rewards for me.  He wouldn’t lose me for a thousand pounds.’

“I pricked up my ears at that; I don’t deny it.  Anybody would.  Besides, I knew it would be doing him a kindness to hand ’im back to ’is father.  And then I did a bit o’ thinking to see ’ow it was to be done.

“‘Sit down,’ I ses, putting three or four ledgers on the floor behind one of the desks.  ‘Sit down, and let’s talk it over.’

“We talked away for ever so long, but, do all I would, I couldn’t persuade ’im.  His ’ead was stuffed full of coral islands and smugglers and pirates and foreign ports.  He said ’e wanted to see the world, and flying-fish.

“‘I love the blue billers,’ he ses; ’the heaving blue billers is wot I want.’

“I tried to explain to ’im who would be doing the heaving, but ’e wouldn’t listen to me.  He sat on them ledgers like a little wooden image, looking up at me and shaking his ’ead, and when I told ’im of storms and shipwrecks he just smacked ’is lips and his blue eyes shone with joy.  Arter a time I saw it was no good trying to persuade ’im, and I pretended to give way.

“‘I think I can get you a ship with a friend o’ mine,’ I ses; ’but, mind, I’ve got to relieve your pore father’s mind—­I must let ’im know wot’s become of you.’

“‘Not before I’ve sailed,’ he ses, very quick.

“‘Certingly not,’ I ses.  ’But you must give me ’is name and address, and, arter the Blue Shark—­that’s the name of your ship—­is clear of the land, I’ll send ’im a letter with no name to it, saying where you ave gorn.’

“He didn’t seem to like it at fust, and said ’e would write ’imself, but arter I ’ad pointed out that ’e might forget and that I was responsible, ’e gave way and told me that ’is father was named Mr. Watson, and he kept a big draper’s shop in the Commercial Road.

“We talked a bit arter that, just to stop ’is suspicions, and then I told ’im to stay where ’e was on the floor, out of sight of the window, while I went to see my friend the captain.

“I stood outside for a moment trying to make up my mind wot to do.  O’course, I ’ad no business, strictly speaking, to leave the wharf, but, on the other ’and, there was a father’s ’art to relieve.  I edged along bit by bit while I was thinking, and then, arter looking back once or twice to make sure that the boy wasn’t watching me, I set off for the Commercial Road as hard as I could go.