"He was the limit. Well, me lad, that was the first time I saw Laura, and she stood beside me half the day at the tally desk there, and thanked me for the entertainment when Slade sent off a boy to take her ashore. She gave me a kiss when she turned to go down the side--well, you see, I've--I've never quite forgotten that kiss, Balgarnie, me lad." "I know, skipper," said Mr. Balgarnie rather thickly. "A kid once kissed me, of her own blessed accord, too, like that. It sort of burnt in. I beg your pardon, sir, for interrupting." "Not at all, me lad. Here you, steward. Hi, Brass-Pan." A Krooboy ran up. "We fit for two cocktail, plenty-long ones. Well, as I was saying, Balgarnie, me lad, I've always had a bit of soft place for Laura, though I suppose she rightly is snuff and butter, by Crumbs you'd never guess it from her looks unless you went over her with a lens, and I'd just feel all broken up if she was to go the way that lot usually do go. So if this young Carter, who seems a nice clean-run sort of lad, will marry her with a ring, I'm going to weigh in with at least a best silver-plate teapot for a wedding present." "You can put me down for the ditto sugar and cream," said the purser with emotion. "It was a kiddie just like Laura I was fond of myself. Only--only-- Well, Skipper, I suppose a good many of us are blackguards down here on the Coast. Why the sulphur doesn't your boy bring those cocktails?" But at this point Captain Image broke off the conversation. "By Crumbs!" said he, "here's Miss Kate." And then he did a thing that made Mr. Balgarnie whistle with sheer surprise. He went down the ladder to help his passenger on board. "Now, if I had done that," the Purser mused to himself, "it would have meant a lot. But my Whiskers! I never thought I should live to see old Cappie Image trotting down onto the front doorsteps to receive a mere female passenger. The Old Man must see enough solid dollars in that girl to buy himself that hen farm outside Cardiff he hopes to retire upon." Captain Image stood on the grating at the foot of the ladder and waved his panama in respectful salutation. The beer-colored river swirled along the steamer's rusty flank a foot beneath him, and the pungent smell of crushed marigolds which it carried made him cough. The sun shimmered exactly overhead in a sky of the most extravagant blue, and the greenery which fenced in the slimy mud banks hung in the breathless heat without so much as a twitter.