“‘I might as well be a orfin,’ ses Ginger, looking down; ‘sometimes I seem to see a kind, ’andsome face bending over me, and fancy it’s my mother’s, but I can’t remember ’er name, or my name, or anythink about ’er.’ “‘You remind me o’ my boy very much,’ ses the landlady, shaking ’er ’ead; ‘you’ve got the same coloured ’air, and, wot’s extraordinary, you’ve got the same tattoo marks on your wrists. Sailor-boy dancing on one and a couple of dolphins on the other. And ’e ’ad a little scar on ’is eyebrow, much the same as yours.’ “‘Good ’evins,’ ses Ginger Dick, starting back and looking as though ’e was trying to remember something. “‘I s’pose they’re common among seafaring men?’ ses the landlady, going off to attend to a customer. “Ginger Dick would ha’ liked to ha’ seen ’er a bit more excited, but ’e ordered another glass o’ bitter from the barmaid, and tried to think ’ow he was to bring out about the ship on his chest and the letters on ’is back. The landlady served a couple o’ men, and by and by she came back and began talking agin. “‘I like sailors,’ she ses; ‘one thing is, my boy was a sailor; and another thing is, they’ve got such feelin’ ’earts. There was two of ’em in ’ere the other day, who’d been in ’ere once or twice, and one of ’em was that kind ’earted I thought he would ha’ ’ad a fit at something I told him.’ “‘Ho,’ ses Ginger, pricking up his ears, ‘wot for?’ “‘I was just talking to ’im about my boy, same as I might be to you,’ ses the old lady, ‘and I was just telling ’im about the poor child losing ’is finger——’ “‘Losing ’is _wot_?’ ses Ginger, turning pale and staggering back. “‘Finger,’ ses the landlady. ’E was only ten years old at the time, and I’d sent ’im out to—Wot’s the matter? Ain’t you well?’ “Ginger didn’t answer ’er a word, he couldn’t. ’E went on going backwards until ’e got to the door, and then ’e suddenly fell through it into the street, and tried to think. “Then ’e remembered Sam and Peter, and when ’e thought of them safe and sound aboard the _Penguin_ he nearly broke down altogether, as ’e thought how lonesome he was. “All ’e wanted was ’is arms round both their necks same as they was the night afore they ’ad ’im tattooed.” TO HAVE AND TO HOLD The old man sat outside the Cauliflower Inn, looking crossly up the road. He was fond of conversation, but the pedestrian who had stopped to drink a mug of ale beneath the shade of the doors was not happy in his choice of subjects. He would only talk of the pernicious effects of beer on the constitutions of the aged, and he listened with ill-concealed impatience to various points which the baffled ancient opposite urged in its favour. Conversation languished; the traveller rapped on the table and had his mug refilled. He nodded courteously to his companion and drank. “Seems to me,” said the latter, sharply, “you like it for all your talk.”