uired a third.

"In coorse he wos," said Bob.

"Then it's my opinion," replied the other, "that old Mr Temple'll have
to chase _his_ son, and clap him in a strait-jacket w'en he catches
him--if he talks such stuff."

The porter could not understand a joke, and did not like one, so he
turned on his heel, and, leaving his friends to laugh at their comrade's
jest, proceeded to the counting-room.

There were two counting-rooms--a small outer and a large inner one. In
the outer room sat a tall middle-aged man, lanky and worn in appearance
and with a red nose. Opposite to him, at the same desk, sat a small fat
boy with a round red face, and no chin to speak of. The man was writing
busily--the boy was drawing a caricature of the man, also busily.

Passing these, Bob Bowie entered the inner office, where a dozen clerks
were all busily employed, or pretending to be so. Going straight onward
like a homeward-bound ship, keeping his eyes right ahead, Bob was
stranded at last in front of a green door, at which he knocked, and was
answered with a hearty "Come in."

The porter went in and found Fred Temple seated at a table which was
covered with books and papers.

"Oh! I sent for you, Bowie, to say that I want you to go with me to
Norway to-morrow morning."

"To Norway, sir!" said Bowie in surprise.

"Ay, surely you're not growing timid in your old age, Bob! It is but a
short voyage of two or three days. My little schooner is a good
sea-boat, and a first-rate sailor."

"Why, as for bein' _timid_," said the porter, rubbing the end of his
nose, which was copper-coloured and knotty, "I don't think I ever knowed
that there feelin', but it does take a feller aback to be told all of a
suddent, after he's reg'larly laid up in port, to get ready to trip
anchor in twelve hours and bear away over the North Sea--not that I
cares a brass fardin' for that fish-pond, blow high, blow low, but it's
raither suddent, d'ye see, and my rig ain't just seaworthy."

Bowie glanced uneasily at his garments, which were a cross between those
of a railway-guard and a policeman.

"Never mind the rig, Bob," cried Fred, laughing. "Do you get ready to
start, with all the underclothing you have, by six to-morrow morning.
We shall go to Hull by rail, and I will see to it that your top-sails
are made all right."

"Wery good, sir."

"You've not forgotten how to make lobscouse or plum-duff, I dare say?"

Bob's eyes brightened as he replied sto