“You’ve been swindled,” I ses, “and you know it.  If I’d been done like that I should never hold up my ‘ead agin.  Why, a child o’ five would know better.  You and your crew all seem to be tarred with the same brush.  You ain’t fit to be trusted out alone.”

I believe ’e told his ‘ands wot I said; anyway, two bits o’ coke missed me by ’arf an inch next evening, and for some weeks not one of ’em spoke a word to me.  When they see me coming they just used to stand up straight and twist their nose.

It didn’t ‘urt me, o’ course.  I took no notice of ’em.  Even when one of ’em fell over the broom I was sweeping with I took no notice of ’im.  I just went on with my work as if ’e wasn’t there.

I suppose they ’ad been in the sulks about a month, and I was sitting ‘ere one evening getting my breath arter a couple o’ hours’ ’ard work, when one of ’em, George Tebb by name, came off the ship and nodded to me as he passed.

“Evening, Bill,” he ses.

“Evening,” I ses, rather stiff.

“I wanted a word with you, Bill,” he ses, in a low voice.  “In fact, I might go so far as to say I want to ask you to do me a favour.”

I looked at him so ’ard that he coughed and looked away.

“We might talk about it over a ’arf-pint,” he ses.

“No, thank you,” I ses.  “I ’ad a ’arf-pint the day before yesterday, and I’m not thirsty.”

He stood there fidgeting about for a bit, and then he puts his ’and on my shoulder.

“Well, come to the end of the jetty,” he ses.  “I’ve got something private to say.”

I got up slow-like and followed ’im.  I wasn’t a bit curious.  Not a bit.  But if a man asks for my ’elp I always give it.

“It’s like this,” he ses, looking round careful, “only I don’t want the other chaps to hear because I don’t want to be laughed at.  Last week an old uncle o’ mine died and left me thirty pounds.  It’s just a week ago, and I’ve already got through five of ’em, and besides that the number of chaps that want to borrow ten bob for a couple o’ days would surprise you.”

“I ain’t so easy surprised,” I ses, shaking my ’ead.

“It ain’t safe with me,” he ses; “and the favour I want you to do is to take care of it for me.  I know it’ll go if I keep it.  I’ve got it locked up in this box.  And if you keep the box I’ll keep the key, and when I want a bit I’ll come and see you about it.”

He pulled a little box out of ’is pocket and rattled it in my ear.

“There’s five-and-twenty golden goblins in there,” he ses.  “If you take charge of ’em they’ll be all right.  If you don’t, I’m pretty certain I sha’n’t ’ave one of ’em in a week or two’s time.”

At fust I said I wouldn’t ’ave anything to do with it, but he begged so ’ard that I began to alter my mind.

“You’re as honest as daylight, Bill,” he ses, very earnest.  “I don’t know another man in the world I could trust with twenty-five quid—­ especially myself.  Now, put it in your pocket and look arter it for me.  One of the quids in it is for you, for your trouble.”