The Watch Below was crowded, and Doc Linyard presided at the pie-stand and the desk. He noticed Richard's grave face, and surmised that all was not right.
"You're late!" he exclaimed. "Come sit down to supper. I'll bet you haven't eaten a mouthful."
"I've had bad luck," replied Richard. "Bad luck for you and good luck for myself."
And, sitting down beside the desk, he made a clean breast of what had transpired earlier in the day.
"I know I have been careless," he added, "and I don't deserve to be trusted any more."
"Never mind," returned the old sailor cheerily. "It's too bad, but, as Betty often says, it's no use crying over spilt milk, so we'll make the best of it."
"I'll have the advertisement put in to-morrow," said the boy, "and
I'll add that former letters have been lost."
"That's a good idea. And don't tell Betty; it would only worry her.
Who knows but what those letters didn't amount to much after all?"
"At all events, I'm going to get them back if I can."
"And your two dollars, too. The little rascal! But you said you had good news?"