“Wot’s the matter?” ses the woman, looking at ’im.

“I’d know that foot anywhere,” ses Peter, still staring at it; and the words was hardly out of ’is mouth afore the foot ’ad moved itself away and tucked itself under its chair.  “Why, that’s my dear old friend Sam Small, ain’t it?”

“Do you know the captin?” ses the woman, smiling at ’im.

“Cap——?” ses Peter.  “Cap——?  Oh, yes; why, he’s the biggest friend I’ve got.” “’Ow strange!” ses the woman.

“We’ve been wanting to see ’im for some time,” ses Ginger.  “He was kind enough to lend me arf a crown the other day, and I’ve been wanting to pay ’im.”

“Captin Small,” ses the woman, pushing open the door, “here’s some old friends o’ yours.”

Old Sam turned ’is face round and looked at ’em, and if looks could ha’ killed, as the saying is, they’d ha’ been dead men there and then.

“Oh, yes,” he ses, in a choking voice; “’ow are you?”

“Pretty well, thank you, captin,” ses Ginger, grinning at ’im; “and ’ow’s yourself arter all this long time?”

He held out ’is hand and Sam shook it, and then shook ’ands with Peter Russet, who was grinning so ’ard that he couldn’t speak.

“These are two old friends o’ mine, Mrs. Finch,” ses old Sam, giving ’em a warning look; “Captin Dick and Captin Russet, two o’ the oldest and best friends a man ever ’ad.”

“Captin Dick ’as got arf a crown for you,” ses Peter Russet, still grinning.

“There now,” ses Ginger, looking vexed, “if I ain’t been and forgot it; I’ve on’y got arf a sovereign.”

“I can give you change, sir,” ses Mrs. Finch.  “P’r’aps you’d like to sit down for five minutes?”

Ginger thanked ’er, and ’im and Peter Russet took a chair apiece in front o’ the fire and began asking old Sam about ’is ’ealth, and wot he’d been doing since they saw ’im last.

“Fancy your reckernizing his foot,” ses Mrs. Finch, coming in with the change.

“I’d know it anywhere,” ses Peter, who was watching Ginger pretending to give Sam Small the ’arf-dollar, and Sam pretending in a most lifelike manner to take it.

Ginger Dick looked round the room.  It was a comfortable little place, with pictures on the walls and antimacassars on all the chairs, and a row of pink vases on the mantelpiece.  Then ’e looked at Mrs. Finch, and thought wot a nice-looking woman she was.

“This is nicer than being aboard ship with a crew o’ nasty, troublesome sailormen to look arter, Captin Small,” he ses.

“It’s wonderful the way he manages ’em,” ses Peter Russet to Mrs. Finch.  “Like a lion he is.”

“A roaring lion,” ses Ginger, looking at Sam.  “He don’t know wot fear is.”

Sam began to smile, and Mrs. Finch looked at ’im so pleased that Peter Russet, who ’ad been looking at ’er and the room, and thinking much the same way as Ginger, began to think that they was on the wrong tack.