man who lived well. A moment's hesitation, and Master
Jones, with a courage born of despair, ran after him and tugged him by
the sleeve.

"Halloa!" said Mr. Samuel Brown, looking round. "What do you want?"

"Want you, father," said Master Jones.

The jolly seaman's face broke into a smile. So also did the faces of the
jolly seaman's friends.

"I'm not your father, matey," he said, good-naturedly.

"Yes, you are," said the desperate Billy; "you know you are."

"You've made a mistake, my lad," said Mr. Brown, still smiling. "Here,
run away."

He felt in his trouser pocket and produced a penny. It was a gift, not
a bribe, but it had by no means the effect its donor intended. Master
Jones, now quite certain that he had made a wise choice of a father,
trotted along a yard or two in the rear.

"Look here, my lad," exclaimed Mr. Brown, goaded into action by
intercepting a smile with which Mr. Charles Legge had favoured Mr. Harry
Green, "you run off home."

"Where do you live now?" inquired Billy, anxiously.

Mr. Green, disdaining concealment, slapped Mr. Legge on the back, and,
laughing uproariously, regarded Master Jones with much kindness.

"You mustn't follow me," said Sam, severely; "d'ye hear?"

"All right, father," said the boy, dutifully.

"And don't call me father," vociferated Mr. Brown.

"Why not?" inquired the youth, artlessly.

Mr. Legge stopped suddenly, and, putting his hand on Mr. Green's
shoulder, gaspingly expressed his inability to go any farther. Mr.
Green, patting his back, said he knew how he felt, because he felt
the same, and, turning to Sam, told him he'd be the death of him if he
wasn't more careful.

"If you don't run away," said Mr. Brown, harshly, as he turned to the
boy, "I shall give you a hiding."

"Where am I to run to?" whimpered Master Jones, dodging off and on.

"Run 'ome," said Sam.

"That's where I'm going," said Master Jones, following.

"Better try and give 'im the slip, Sam," said Mr. Legge, in a
confidential whisper; "though it seems an unnatural thing to do."

"Unnatural? What d'ye mean?" demanded his unfortunate friend. "Wot d'ye
mean by unnatural?"

"Oh, if you're going to talk like that, Sam," said Mr. Legge, shortly,
"it's no good giving you advice. As you've made your bed, you must lay
on it."

"How long is it since you saw 'im last, matey?" inquired Mr. Green.

"I dunno; not very long," replied the boy, cautiously.

"Has he altered at all since yo