Bill and Abraham (called Abe for short) were jolly good fellows of more than average intelligence, and they determined to enjoy their day to the utmost. To this end they had refused to join the mess at dinner, in order that their appetites might be the keener for the viands at the Royal George, to whose hospitable doors they directed their steps upon landing. Both were rigged out in their best togs, and took their seats at a table with the pleasant consciousness that their personal appearance was just about at high water mark. “Heave us one o’ them programmes, Sally,” said Bill. “A mighty trim lass you are, if I does tell you so.” “Me name is Lucy, your honor,” replied the buxom waitress with a smirk, as she placed a bill-of-fare before the twain. “Married?” asked Bill. “No, sir. I’ve not yet met me fate,” answered Lucy, demurely. “Crackey! You must be stage-struck.” “’Vast there, Bill, and quit your foolin’,” interrupted Abe. “I’m ’ungry. Wot will we ’ave?” He was considerably older than his companion, and had reached that stage in life when not even the charms of a pretty waitress could make him lose sight of the fact that it was past the time for dinner. It seemed to Abe that their orders would never arrive, so he spent the time in devouring a bottle of little round pickles which occupied the center of the table. Bill kept trying to attract the attention of a golden haired fairy who was opening numerous bottles of ale in another part of the room, and only desisted when Abe remarked: “Seems to me these ’ere pickles are awful salty.” “Them ain’t pickles, you bloke; them’s holives,” said Bill, grinning. “Wot’s that but another name for—” Abe’s answer was cut short by the long-expected appearance of Lucy, and both men were soon doing full justice to the dinner, which included beefsteak and onions, fried sole with anchovy sauce, and a pot of stout; besides half a dozen minor dishes, all of which they relished as only men can who have lived for some time on ship’s stores. At last Bill said: “Well, Abe, ain’t you most done? I’m full to the hatches.” “Oh, sir, your honors ’asn’t ’ad the sweets yet,” expostulated Lucy. “We’ve got some lovely tarts, and a duff, and—” “Duff! Bring us a whole one, quick!” cried Abe. “We’ve eat too much,” said Bill. “I never thought of the duff, or I wouldn’t have eaten all this other truck. We’ll never be able to finish a whole one.” “Yes we will, too,” Abe maintained; so the dainty was placed before them, and they fell to with a will. But both soon found that their eyes were larger than their stomachs, and though Abe ate more than his companion, even he had to stop before more than a third of the duff had been dispatched. “It’s too bad we ’ave to leave it,” he said regretfully. An alarming idea suddenly struck Bill. “Suppose we ain’t got money enough to pay for all these things we’ve ’ad,” he whispered fearfully. They asked for their reckoning, and alas! Bill’s surmise proved correct.