doing justice to his subject. "These are the gentlemen, Peter," he said,
introducing them with a wave of his hand.

Mr. Duckett raised his cap, and tugging at a small patch of reddish-brown
hair strangely resembling a door-mat in texture, which grew at the base
of his chin, cleared his throat and said it was a fine morning.

"Not much of a talker is Peter," said the genial Brisket. "He's a doer;
that's what he is-a doer. Now, if you're willing--and I hope you are--
he'll come aboard with us and talk the matter over."

This proposition being assented to after a little delay on the part of
Mr. Stobell, who appeared to think Mr. Duckett's lack of connection with
the hard-boiled eggs somewhat suspicious, they proceeded to Todd's Wharf
and made a thorough inspection of the schooner. Mr. Chalk's eyes grew
bright and his step elastic. He roamed from forecastle to cabin and from
cabin to galley, and, his practice with the crow's-nest in Dialstone Lane
standing him in good stead, wound up by ascending to the masthead and
waving to his astonished friends below.

Mr. Todd came on board as he regained the deck, and, stroking his white
beard, regarded him with an air of benevolent interest.

"There's no ill-feeling," he said, as Mr. Chalk eyed his outstretched
hand somewhat dubiously. "You're a hard nut, that's what you are, and I
pity anybody that has the cracking of you. A man that could come and
offer me seventy pounds for a craft like this--seventy pounds, mind you,"
he added, with a rising colour, as he turned to the others "seventy
pounds, and a face like a baby. Why, when I think of it, DAMME IF I
DON'T----"