ur?"

"Where my father's ship is," said the Skipper.

"That's Harbour," said the boy clerk, grinning in recognition. "Going
after the Captain?"

The Skipper nodded.

"What class?"

"First," said the Skipper, at a venture.

"Two and four, single," said the clerk, picking out a ticket from the
rack, and stamping it, by sticking it in a noisy nick, before the
would-be traveller could speak. When he could, it was with a bright
shilling, given him at his father's last visit, a threepenny-piece, and
twopence halfpenny, in his hand.

"Two and four," said the clerk again.

"I--I haven't enough."

"Well, we don't give credit here," said the clerk, laughing.

"If you please, I'll pay the rest when I come back."

"Hum!" said the clerk, "when are you coming back?"

"To-night."

"Then you want a return?"

"Yes," said the Skipper, nodding.

"Well, I oughtn't to give you credit. What are you going to Portsmouth
for?"

The boy choked for a moment, and felt annoyed at the question.

"To say good-bye to my Papa before he goes. I must go directly, or he
will be gone."

"But a return's ever so much more, squire."

"I'll be sure and pay you when I come back."

The clerk hesitated, but he knew that the young traveller lived at The
Pool House, and that his father had gone by the mid-day train, so he
said good-humouredly: "Look here; you'd better have a third return;
that's two shillings, and you can pay me one, and give me the other
to-morrow."

"Yes, please," cried the Skipper eagerly.

"Here she comes too," said the clerk, and he took the first-class
ticket, juggled another in the stamping-machine, and dabbed it down
through the pigeon-hole.

"Oh, thank you," cried the Skipper, snatching it up, and rushing
towards the door.

"Hi! you haven't paid," shouted the clerk, and the boy ran back, with
his face scarlet, to place his bright shilling on the little bracket.

"That's your sort," said the clerk; "don't you forget you owe me
another." But the Skipper did not hear him, being half-way to the door,
and then, ran panting out on to the platform, just as the train glided
in.

The porter knew him, clipped his ticket, and he, being the only
passenger from the little station, opened the carriage door, gave it a
third-class bang, which, as everyone knows, is three times as loud as a
first-class bang, and the next minute, with Bob's heart beating hard
like the throbbing of the engine, the eventful journey began.