He held out 'is hand and Sam shook it, and then shook 'ands with Peter Russet, who was grinning so 'ard that he couldn't speak. “These are two old friends o' mine, Mrs. Finch,” ses old Sam, giving 'em a warning look; “Captin Dick and Captin Russet, two o' the oldest and best friends a man ever 'ad.” “Captin Dick 'as got arf a crown for you,” ses Peter Russet, still grinning. “There now,” ses Ginger, looking vexed, “if I ain't been and forgot it; I've on'y got arf a sovereign.” “I can give you change, sir,” ses Mrs. Finch. “P'r'aps you'd like to sit down for five minutes?” Ginger thanked 'er, and 'im and Peter Russet took a chair apiece in front o' the fire and began asking old Sam about 'is 'ealth, and wot he'd been doing since they saw 'im last. “Fancy your reckernizing his foot,” ses Mrs. Finch, coming in with the change. “I'd know it anywhere,” ses Peter, who was watching Ginger pretending to give Sam Small the 'arf-dollar, and Sam pretending in a most lifelike manner to take it. Ginger Dick looked round the room. It was a comfortable little place, with pictures on the walls and antimacassars on all the chairs, and a row of pink vases on the mantelpiece. Then 'e looked at Mrs. Finch, and thought wot a nice-looking woman she was. “This is nicer than being aboard ship with a crew o' nasty, troublesome sailormen to look arter, Captin Small,” he ses. “It's wonderful the way he manages 'em,” ses Peter Russet to Mrs. Finch. “Like a lion he is.” “A roaring lion,” ses Ginger, looking at Sam. “He don't know wot fear is.” Sam began to smile, and Mrs. Finch looked at 'im so pleased that Peter Russet, who 'ad been looking at 'er and the room, and thinking much the same way as Ginger, began to think that they was on the wrong tack. “Afore 'e got stout and old,” he ses, shaking his 'ead, “there wasn't a smarter skipper afloat.” “We all 'ave our day,” ses Ginger, shaking his 'ead too. “I dessay he's good for another year or two afloat, yet,” ses Peter Russet, considering. “With care,” ses Ginger. Old Sam was going to say something, but 'e stopped himself just in time. “They will 'ave their joke,” he ses, turning to Mrs. Finch and trying to smile. “I feel as young as ever I did.” Mrs. Finch said that anybody with arf an eye could see that, and then she looked at a kettle that was singing on the 'ob. “I s'pose you gentlemen wouldn't care for a cup o' cocoa?” she ses, turning to them. Ginger Dick and Peter both said that they liked it better than anything else, and, arter she 'ad got out the cups and saucers and a tin o' cocoa, Ginger held the kettle and poured the water in the cups while she stirred them, and old Sam sat looking on 'elpless. “It does seem funny to see you drinking cocoa, captin,” ses Ginger, as old Sam took his cup. “Ho!” ses Sam, firing up; “and why, if I might make so bold as to ask?” “'Cos I've generally seen you drinking something out of a bottle,” ses Ginger.