"Fine day," said Mr. Letts, lighting another cigarette.

The woman assented and sat looking over the sea.

"Ever done any cooking?" asked Mr. Letts, presently.

"Plenty," was the surprised reply. "Why?"

"I just wanted to ask you how long you would boil a bit o' beef," said
Mr. Letts. "Only from curiosity; I should never ship as cook again."

He narrated his experience of the last few days, and, finding the
listener sympathetic, talked at some length about himself and his
voyages; also of his plans for the future.

"I lost my son at sea," said the woman, with a sigh. "You favor him
rather."

Mr. Letts's face softened. "Sorry," he said. "Sorry you lost him, I
mean."

"At least, I suppose he would have been like you," said the other; "but
it's nine years ago now. He was just sixteen."

Mr. Letts--after a calculation--nodded. "Just my age," he said. "I was
twenty-five last March."

"Sailed for Melbourne," said the woman. "My only boy."

Mr. Letts cleared his throat, sympathetically.