His temper passed off arter a time, and ’e began to look cheerful agin. It was a lovely morning, and, having nothing to do and plenty in ’is pocket to do it with, he went along like a schoolboy with a ’arf holiday. He went as far as Stratford on the top of a tram for a mouthful o’ fresh air, and came back to his favourite coffee-shop with a fine appetite for dinner. There was a very nice gentlemanly chap sitting opposite ’im, and the way he begged Sam’s pardon for splashing gravy over ’im made Sam take a liking to him at once. Nicely dressed he was, with a gold pin in ’is tie, and a fine gold watch-chain acrost his weskit; and Sam could see he ’ad been brought up well by the way he used ’is knife and fork. He kept looking at Sam in a thoughtful kind o’ way, and at last he said wot a beautiful morning it was, and wot a fine day it must be in the country. In a little while they began to talk like a couple of old friends, and he told Sam all about ’is father, wot was a clergyman in the country, and Sam talked about a father of his as was living private on three ’undred a year. “Ah, money’s a useful thing,” ses the man. “It ain’t everything,” ses Sam. “It won’t give you ’appiness. I’ve run through a lot in my time, so I ought to know.” “I expect you’ve got a bit left, though,” ses the man, with a wink. Sam laughed and smacked ’is pocket. “I’ve got a trifle to go on with,” he ses, winking back. “I never feel comfortable without a pound or two in my pocket.” “You look as though you’re just back from a vy’ge,” ses the man, looking at ’im very hard. “I am,” ses Sam, nodding. “Just back arter ten months, and I’m going to spend a bit o’ money afore I sign on agin, I can tell you.” “That’s wot it was given to us for,” ses the man, nodding at him. They both got up to go at the same time and walked out into the street together, and, when Sam asked ’im whether he might have the pleasure of standing ’im a drink, he said he might. He talked about the different kinds of drink as they walked along till Sam, wot was looking for a high-class pub, got such a raging thirst on ’im he hardly knew wot to do with ’imself. He passed several pubs, and walked on as fast as he could to the Three Widders. “Do you want to go in there partikler?” ses the man, stopping at the door. “No,” ses Sam, staring. “’Cos I know a place where they sell the best glass o’ port wine in London,” ses the man. He took Sam up two or three turnings, and then led him into a quiet little pub in a back street. There was a cosy little saloon bar with nobody in it, and, arter Sam had ’ad two port wines for the look of the thing, he ’ad a pint o’ six-ale because he liked it. His new pal had one too, and he ’ad just taken a pull at it and wiped his mouth, when ’e noticed a little bill pinned up at the back of the bar.