t it."

Old Sam looked as though he'd like to eat 'im, especially as he noticed
Mrs. Finch listening and pretending not to. "Oh! that one," he ses,
arter a bit o' hard thinking. "Oh! I found out who it belonged to. You
wouldn't believe 'ow pleased they was at getting it back agin."

Ginger Dick coughed and began to think as 'ow old Sam was sharper than he
'ad given 'im credit for, but afore he could think of anything else to
say Mrs. Finch looked at old Sam and began to talk about 'is ship, and to
say 'ow much she should like to see over it.

"I wish I could take you," ses Sam, looking at the other two out o' the
corner of his eye, "but my ship's over at Dunkirk, in France. I've just
run over to London for a week or two to look round."

"And mine's there too," ses Peter Russet, speaking a'most afore old Sam
'ad finished; "side by side they lay in the harbour."

"Oh, dear," ses Mrs. Finch, folding her 'ands and shaking her 'cad. "I
should like to go over a ship one arternoon. I'd quite made up my mind
to it, knowing three captins."

She smiled and looked at Ginger; and Sam and Peter looked at 'im too,
wondering whether he was going to berth his ship at Dunkirk alongside o'
theirs.

"Ah, I wish I 'ad met you a fortnight ago," ses Ginger, very sad. "I
gave up my ship, the High flyer, then, and I'm waiting for one my owners
are 'aving built for me at New-castle. They said the High flyer wasn't
big enough for me. She was a nice little ship, though. I believe I've
got 'er picture somewhere about me!"

He felt in 'is pocket and pulled out a little, crumpled-up photograph of
a ship he'd been fireman aboard of some years afore, and showed it to
'er.

"That's me standing on the bridge," he ses, pointing out a little dot
with the stem of 'is pipe.

"It's your figger," ses Mrs. Finch, straining her eyes. "I should know
it anywhere."

"You've got wonderful eyes, ma'am," ses old Sam, choking with 'is pipe.

"Anybody can see that," ses Ginger. "They're the largest and the bluest
I've ever seen."

Mrs. Finch told 'im not to talk nonsense, but both Sam and Peter Russet
could see 'ow pleased she was.

"Truth is truth," ses Ginger. "I'm a plain man, and I speak my mind."

"Blue is my fav'rit' colour," ses old Sam, in a tender voice. "True
blue."

Peter Russet began to feel out of it. "I thought brown was," he ses.

"Ho!" ses Sam, turning on 'im; "and why?"

"I 'ad my reasons," ses Peter, nodding, and