the arms, lifted him
up, and shook him.

"Take care, Lumpy," cried the boy, "I'm wery tender, like an over-young
chicken. You'd better set me down before I comes in pieces."

"Why, Stiver, you're the very man I was thinkin' of," said Lumpy,
setting the boy on the edge of the pier, and sitting down beside him.

Stiver looked proud, and felt six inches taller.

"Listen," said Bob, with an earnest look that was apt to captivate his
friends; "I want help. Will you do somethin' for me?"

"Anything," replied the boy with emphasis, "from pitch and toss to
manslaughter!"

"Well, look here. You know Eve Mooney?"

"Do I know the blessedest angel in all Gorleston? In course I does.
Wot of her?"

"She's ill--very ill," said Lumpy.

"You might as well tell me, when it's daytime, that the sun's up,"
returned Pat.

"Don't be so awful sharp, Stiver, else I'll have to snub you."

"Which you've on'y got to frown, Bob Lumpy, an' the deed's done."

Bob gave a short laugh, and then proceeded to explain matters to his
friend: how he had been saving up his wages for some time past to buy a
second-hand bath-chair for Eve, because the doctor had said it would do
her so much good, especially if backed up with good victuals.

"It's the wittles as bothers me, Stiver," said Bob, regarding his friend
with a puzzled expression.

"H'm! well," returned the small boy seriously, "wittles has bothered me
too, off an' on, pretty well since I was born, though I'm bound to
confess I does get a full blow-out now an'--"

"Hold on, Stiver; you're away on the wrong tack," cried Bob,
interrupting. "I don't mean the difficulty o' findin' wittles, but how
to get Eve to take 'em."

"Tell her to shut her eyes an' open her mouth, an' then shove 'em in,"
suggested Pat.

"I'll shove you into the sea if you go on talking balderdash," said Bob.
"Now, look here, you hain't got nothin' to do, have you!"

"If you mean in the way o' my purfession, Bob, you're right. I purfess
to do anything, but nobody as yet has axed me to do nothin'. In the
ways o' huntin' up wittles, howsever, I've plenty to do. It's hard
lines, and yet I ain't extravagant in my expectations. Most coves
require three good meals a day, w'ereas I'm content with one. I begins
at breakfast, an' I goes on a-eatin' promiskoously all day till arter
supper--w'en I can get it."

"Just so, Stiver. Now, I want to engage you professionally. Your
dooties will be to hang about Mrs M