Everything was very homely and simple, but to the boy fresh from London the table was a delight. Right in the centre there was a blue jug full of the old purser's choicest flowers scenting the room. The best tea-tray covered one end, with its paraphernalia of best china, the battered old silver pot and very much worn silver tea-spoons; while at the other end was a ham in cut, a piece of ornamental preservation, all pinky fat and crimson lean, marbled throughout. A noble-looking home-baked loaf, a pat of yellow butter--real cow's butter--ornamented with a bas-relief of the swing-tailed horned lady who presumably was its author, and on either side a dish of raspberry jam, and another containing a piece of virgin honey-comb, from which trickled forth the pale golden sweetness. "Allus make it a rule here, sir," said the old purser, "o' having a good bit o' salt provision in cut. Let me give you a bit o' 'am." Dick raised no objection, and then, as soon as he was helped, and saw the cup of tea with a veined pattern of rich lumpy cream running over it, he sighed involuntarily. "There, I am sorry," cried Aunt Ruth, "it isn't to your liking. I knew that ham would be too salt." Dick Temple flushed like a girl. "Oh no!" he cried; "it wasn't that." "Then it's the butter!" cried the old lady, in mortified tones. "Butter!" cried Dick, who had already eaten two semicircles out of a slice; "why, it's glorious! We never get such butter in London." "But you sighed," said the old lady, bridling, while Uncle Abram wrinkled his forehead and shook his head at Will. "Did I?" said Dick, colouring a little more deeply. "Well, it was because I wished Taff was here." "What, is that your dog?" said the old lady, smiling again. "No!" cried Dick, laughing; "it's my brother Arthur. I always call him Taff, because--because--I don't know why, but I generally call him Taff." "I'm sure we should be very pleased to see the young gentleman," said Aunt Ruth in the most stately manner; and then poor Taff was forgotten, from the fact that, after well assisting the guest, Uncle Abram and Will set such an example in the way of eating that it proved contagious, and Dick was soon proving himself no mean trencherman, while he fully realised the wisdom of the old sailor in always having "a good bit o' salt provision in cut." When they rose from the table Aunt Ruth was quite sure that her visitor had not had half a tea, which words were comforting to Dick, whose conscience, now that he had eaten, was beginning to smite him for behaving so voraciously at these strangers' table--unnecessary qualms, for his performance had been very mild compared to that of the purser, who shook hands warmly when his guest took leave, Mrs Marion supplementing her good-bye with a warm invitation to come again. CHAPTER ELEVEN. DICK TEMPLE TAKES A LESSON IN FINDING HIS BEARINGS BEFORE THE BOLTER IS LAID.