ll 'ave to
wait a long time. My advice to you is to take that shop and ha' done
with it."

Charlie sat there arguing all the evening, but it was no good, and the
idea o' them people sitting there and refusing to let 'im have his own
money pretty near sent 'im crazy. It was all 'e could do to kiss Emma
good-night, and 'e couldn't have 'elped slamming the front door if he'd
been paid for it. The only comfort he 'ad got left was the Sydney gal's
photygraph, and he took that out and looked at it under nearly every
lamp-post he passed.

He went round the next night and 'ad an-other try to get 'is money, but
it was no use; and all the good he done was to make Mrs. Cook in such a
temper that she 'ad to go to bed before he 'ad arf finished. It was no
good talking to old Cook and Emma, because they daren't do anything
without 'er, and it was no good calling things up the stairs to her
because she didn't answer. Three nights running Mrs. Cook went off to
bed afore eight o'clock, for fear she should say something to 'im as
she'd be sorry for arterwards; and for three nights Charlie made 'imself
so disagreeable that Emma told 'im plain the sooner 'e went back to sea
agin the better she should like it. The only one who seemed to enjoy it
was George Smith, and 'e used to bring bits out o' newspapers and read to
'em, showing 'ow silly people was done out of their money.

On the fourth night Charlie dropped it and made 'imself so amiable that
Mrs. Cook stayed up and made 'im a Welsh rare-bit for 'is supper, and
made 'im drink two glasses o' beer instead o' one, while old Cook sat and
drank three glasses o' water just out of temper, and to show that 'e
didn't mind. When she started on the chandler's shop agin Charlie said
he'd think it over, and when 'e went away Mrs. Cook called 'im her
sailor-boy and wished 'im pleasant dreams.

But Charlie Tagg 'ad got better things to do than to dream, and 'e sat up
in bed arf the night thinking out a new plan he'd thought of to get that
money. When 'e did fall asleep at last 'e dreamt of taking a little farm
in Australia and riding about on 'orseback with the Sydney gal watching
his men at work.

In the morning he went and hunted up a shipmate of 'is, a young feller
named Jack Bates. Jack was one o' these 'ere chaps, nobody's enemy but
their own, as the saying is; a good-'arted, free-'anded chap as you could
wish to see. Everybody liked 'im, and the ship's cat loved 'im. He'd
ha' s