As the shop-bell went the door of a little parlour at the back of the
shop opened, and a stout and uncommon good-looking woman of about forty
came out. Her 'ead pushed the _Police News_ out o' the way and her 'and
came groping into the winder arter a toy.

Ginger 'ad a good look at 'er out o' the corner of one eye, while he
pretended to be looking at a tobacco-jar with the other. As the little
boy came out 'im and Peter Russet went in.

"I want a pipe, please," he ses, smiling at 'er; "a clay pipe--one o' your
best." The woman handed 'im down a box to choose from, and just then
Peter, wot 'ad been staring in at the arf-open door at a boot wot wanted
lacing up, gave a big start and ses, "Why! Halloa!"

"Wot's the matter?" ses the woman, looking at 'im.

"I'd know that foot anywhere," ses Peter, still staring at it; and the
words was hardly out of 'is mouth afore the foot 'ad moved itself away
and tucked itself under its chair. "Why, that's my dear old friend Sam
Small, ain't it?"

"Do you know the captin?" ses the woman, smiling at 'im.

"Cap----?" ses Peter. "Cap----? Oh, yes; why, he's the biggest friend
I've got." "'Ow strange!" ses the woman.

"We've been wanting to see 'im for some time," ses Ginger. "He was kind
enough to lend me arf a crown the other day, and I've been wanting to pay
'im."