"Well, Jim's a wild one, but he has a good heart, and pays when he can. I've been told by those who know his parents, that he will have property by-and-bye. Well, and what can you do? I am afraid you can't do all Peter did." "I can keep your accounts, and I can be honest and true to you." "Well, Peter could not do more: are you sure you can keep accounts, and sum up totals?" "Yes, to be sure I can; try me." "Well, then, I will: here is pen, ink, and paper. Well, you are the very image of Peter, and that's a fact. Now write down beer, 8 pence; tobacco, 4 pence; is that down?" "Yes." "Let me see: duck for trousers, 3 shillings, 6 pence; beer again, 4 pence; tobacco, 4 pence; is that down? Well, then, say beer again, 8 pence. Now sum that all up." Joey was perfect master of the task, and, as he handed over the paper, announced the whole sum to amount to 5 shillings, 10 pence. "Well," says Mrs Chopper, "it looks all right; but just stay here a minute while I go and speak to somebody." Mrs Chopper left the room, went downstairs, and took it to the bar-girl at the next public-house to ascertain if it was all correct. "Yes, quite correct, Mrs Chopper," replied the lass. "And is it as good as Peter's was, poor fellow?" "Much better," replied the girl. "Dear me! Who would have thought it? and so like Peter too!" Mrs Chopper came upstairs again, and took her seat--"Well," said she, "and now what is your name?" "Joey." "Joey what?" "Joey--O'Donahue," replied our hero, for he was fearful of giving the name of McShane. "And who are your parents?" "They are poor people," replied Joey, "and live a long way off." "And why did you leave them?" Joey had already made up his mind to tell his former story; "I left there because I was accused of poaching, and they wished me to go away." "Poaching; yes, I understand that--killing hares and birds. Well, but why did you poach?" "Because father did." "Oh, well, I see; then, if you only did what your father did we must not blame his child; and so you come down here to go to sea?" "If I could not do better." "But you shall do better, my good boy. I will try you instead of poor Peter, and if you are an honest and good, careful boy, it will be much better than going to sea. Dear me! how like he is,--but now I _must_ call you Peter; it will make me think I have him with me, poor fellow!" "If you please," said Joey, who was not sorry to exchange his name. "Well, then, where do you sleep to-night?" "I did intend to ask for a bed at the house where I left my bundle." "Then, don't do so; go for your bundle, and you shall sleep in Peter's bed (poor fellow, his last was a watery bed, as the papers say), and then to-morrow morning you can go off with me."