The boy looked up at him in astonishment.
"Me?"
"Yes, you. If you're so fond of music, wouldn't you like to learn to play?"
"I've got to help mother at home, because father's dead. And when I'm big enough I'm going to be a sailor. Please, I must go home now."
"Mother getting anxious about you, eh?"
"No, she knows where I go of an evening; she doesn't mind."
"Well, what's your name, anyhow?"
"Hans Martinsen."
"Here you are, then, Hans, here's two shillings for you."
"Oh, er—that for me! I could go to heaps of concerts.... Thank you ever so much."