s "an orphan"--a
rather oldish one, I thought--"like myself."

But my new friend would not be denied.

"Come on, now," he repeated, getting up from the seat, and holding out a
big, strong hand to me, with such a beaming, good-natured expression on
his face and so much genuine cordiality in his voice, that it was
impossible for me to persist in refusing his invitation; the more
particularly as, seeing me hesitate, he added the remark--"leastways,
that is, unless you're too high a gen'leman to consort with an humble
sailor as was your own father's coxswain!"

This settled the point, making me jump up in a jiffey; when, without
further delay, he and I went off from the Hoe, hand in hand, in the
direction of Stoke, where he told me he lived.

It was now nearly the middle of December, six weeks having passed by
since the memorable Sunday on which I and Tom had made a Guy Fawkes of
Dr Hellyer, and run away from school--the intervening time having
slipped by quickly enough while on board the coal brig at Newcastle, and
during our voyage down the coast again--but the weather, I recollect,
was wonderfully mild for the time of year; and, as we walked past the
terraces fronting the Hoe, the sun shone down on us, and over the blue
sea beyond in Plymouth Sound below, as if it had been a summer day.
Indeed, no matter what the weather might have been, I think it would
have seemed fine and bright to me; for, I don't believe I had ever felt
so happy in my life as I did when trudging along by Sam Pengelly's side
that morning.

"You're a pretty strong-built chap for your age," said Sam, as we went
along. "I suppose you're close on sixteen, eh?"

"Dear me, no," I laughed, light-heartedly. "Why, I'm only just
fourteen! I told you I was four when my poor father was killed; and
that, as you yourself said, happened ten years ago, so you can calculate
yourself."

"Bless me, so you must be by all accounts; but, sure, you look fully two
years older! Humph, you're a little bit too young yet to get
apprenticed to the sea regularly as I thought of; but there's plenty o'
time for us to study the bearings of it arter we fetch home. Come
along, step out. I feel kind o' peckish with all this palavering, and
thinks as how I could manage a bit of dinner pretty comfably, and it'll
be just about ready by the time we reach Stoke, as Jane's mighty
punctual to having it on the table by eight bells; step out, my hearty!"

Presently, turning off