“’E’s off ’is ’ead,” said Sam, shaking himself free and regarding him unfavorably. “What’s wrong, kiddy?” “Nothing,” said Henry jubilantly; “everything’s right.” “More happles?” said the cook with a nasty sneer. “No, it ain’t apples,” said Henry hotly; “you never get more than one idea at a time into that ’ead of yours. Where’s the skipper? I’ve got something important to tell ’im—something that’ll make ’_im_ dance.” “Wot is it?” said the cook and Sam together turning pale. “Now don’t get excited,” said Henry, holding up his hand warningly; “it’s bad for you, Sam, because you’re too fat, and it’s bad for cookie because ’is ’ead’s weak. You’ll know all in good time.” He walked aft, leaving them to confer uneasily as to the cause of his jubilant condition, and hastily descending the companion ladder, burst noisily into the cabin and surveyed the skipper and mate with a smile, which he intended should be full of information. Both looked up in surprise, and the skipper, who was in a very bad temper, half rose from his seat. “Where’ve you been, you young rascal?” he asked, eyeing him sternly. “Looking around,” said Henry, still smiling as he thought of the change in the skipper’s manner when he should disclose his information. “This is the second time you’ve taken yourself off,” roared the other angrily. “I’ve half a mind to give you the soundest thrashing you ever had in your life.” “All right,” said Henry, somewhat taken aback. “When—” “Don’t answer me, you idle young rascal!” said the skipper sternly; “get to bed.” “I want to——” began Henry, chilled by this order. “Get to bed,” repeated the skipper, rising. “Bed?” said Henry, as his face hardened; “bed at seven o’clock?” “I’ll punish you somehow,” said the skipper, looking from him to the cook who had just descended. “Cook!” “Yes, sir,” said the cook briskly. “Put that boy to bed,” said the other, “and see he goes now.” “A’ right, sir,” said the grinning cook. “Come along, ’Enery.” With a pale face and a haughty mien, which under other circumstances might have been extremely impressive, Henry, after an entreating glance at the skipper, followed him up the steps. “’E’s got to go to bed,” said the cook to Sam and Dick, who were standing together. “’E’s been naughty.” “Who said so?” asked Sam eagerly. “Skipper,” replied the cook. “’E told me we wos to put him to bed ourselves.” “You needn’t trouble,” said Henry stiffly; “I’ll go all right.” “It’s no trouble,” said Sam oilily. “It’s a pleasure,” said Dick truthfully. Arrived at the scuttle, Henry halted, and with an assumption of ease he was far from feeling, yawned, and looked round at the night. “Go to bed,” said Sam reprovingly, and seizing him in his stout arms passed him below to the cook, feet first, as the cook discovered to his cost. “’E ought to be bathed first,” said Sam, assuming the direction of affairs; “and it’s Monday night, and ’e ought to have a clean nightgown on.”