“I don’t want one,” said the steward, fiercely; “don’t you try none o’ your larks on me, Nathan Smith, cos I won’t have it.”

[Illustration:  “Mr. Nathan Smith.”]

“Lord love your ’art,” said the boarding-master, “I wouldn’t ’urt you.  I’m on’y acting under your orders now; yours and the captin’s.  It ain’t in my reg’lar way o’ business at all, but I’m so good-natured I can’t say ‘no.’”

“Can’t say ‘no’ to five pounds, you mean,” retorted Mr. Wilks, who by no means relished these remarks.

“If I was getting as much out of it as you are I’d be a ’appy man,” sighed Mr. Smith.

“Me!” cried the other; do you think I’d take money for this—­why, I’d sooner starve, I’d sooner.  Wot are you a-tapping your nose for?”

“Was I tapping it?” demanded Mr. Smith, in surprise.  “Well, I didn’t know it.  I’m glad you told me.”

“You’re quite welcome,” said the steward, sharply.  “Crimping ain’t in my line; I’d sooner sweep the roads.”

“’Ear, ’ear,” exclaimed Mr. Smith, approvingly.  “Ah! wot a thing it is to come acrost an honest man.  Wot a good thing it is for the eyesight.”

He stared stonily somewhere in the direction of Mr. Wilks, and then blinking rapidly shielded his eyes with his hand as though overcome by the sight of so much goodness.  The steward’s wrath rose at the performance, and he glowered back at him until his eyes watered.

“Twenty past six,” said Mr. Smith, suddenly, as he fumbled in his waistcoat-pocket and drew out a small folded paper.  “It’s time I made a start.  I s’pose you’ve got some salt in the house?”

“Plenty,” said Mr. Wilks.

“And beer?” inquired the other.

“Yes, there is some beer,” said the steward.

“Bring me a quart of it,” said the boarding-master, slowly and impressively.  “I want it drawed in a china mug, with a nice foaming ’ead on it.”

“Wot do you want it for?” inquired Mr. Wilks, eyeing him very closely.

“Bisness purposes,” said Mr. Smith.  “If you’re very good you shall see ’ow I do it.”

Still the steward made no move.  “I thought you brought the stuff with you,” he remarked.

Mr. Smith looked at him with mild reproach.  “Are you managing this affair or am I?” he inquired.

The steward went out reluctantly, and drawing a quart mug of beer set it down on the table and stood watching his visitor.

“And now I want a spoonful o’ sugar, a spoonful o’ salt, and a spoonful o’ vinegar,” said Mr. Smith.  “Make haste afore the ’ead goes off of it.”

Mr. Wilks withdrew grumbling, and came back in a wonderfully short space of time considering, with the articles required.

“Thankee,” said the other; “you ’ave been quick.  I wish I could move as quick as you do.  But you can take ’em back now, I find I can do without ’em.”

“Where’s the beer?” demanded the incensed Mr. Wilks; where’s the beer, you underhanded swab?”