"Well, I do, to be sure. Oughtn't to, though, come to look on your size."
"Samuel Badgery's my name. You an' me had a hitch to wrestlin', once, over to Tregarrick feast."
"Why, o' course. I mind your features now, though 'tis forty years since. We was standards there an' met i' the last round, an' I got the wust o't. Terrible hard you pitched me, to be sure: but your sweetheart was a-watchin' 'ee—hey?—wi' her blue eyes."
Samuel Badgery sat down on deck, with a leg on either side of the band-box.
"Iss: she was there, as you say. An' she married me that day month. How do you know her eyes were blue?"
"Oh, I dunno. Young men takes notice o' these trifles."
"She died last week."
"Indeed? Pore soul!"
"An' she left you this by her will. 'Twas hers to leave, for I gave it to her, mysel', when that day's wrestlin' was over."
He removed the lid of the band-box and pulled out two parcels wrapped in a pile of tissue-paper. After removing sheet upon sheet of this paper he held up two glittering objects in the sunshine. The one was a silver mug: the other a leather belt with an elaborate silver buckle.