"It looks like another room," thought Bert, as he caught glimpses through the open window of the improvement within; "Prin would not know it, if she saw it now." Then he sighed as he thought of Prin, who had been gone so long.
The new lodger seemed to have no friend save his cat. Not that he was unfriendly in his ways. He was ready enough to bid his neighbours "good day," and to exchange a kind word with them; but his manner of life was so different from theirs that they instinctively held aloof from him. But, if lonely, he was not unhappy. He was generally singing as he tidied his room or cooked his bit of food. Sometimes Bart caught the words he was singing.
"I've found a Friend, oh, such a Friend!" he heard him sing one day.
"Then he has got a friend," thought Bert. "It seemed as if he were as much left to himself as I am. I did not want a friend as long as Prin was with me, but now—"
And Bert sighed. He would have liked the old sailor to be his friend, but he was far too shy to make the first advances.
One day Bert heard the landlady tell Mrs. Kay that the old sailor was going away.
"Going away!" he exclaimed in dismay. "Going to give up his room?"
"Now then, what business is it of yours, Mr. Sharp-ears?" asked the landlady. "I wasn't a-speaking to you. But don't you make no mistake. He ain't giving up his room. He's just going away for a day or two—to Liverpool, he tells me."
"When does he go?" asked Mrs. Kay.
"Early to-morrow morning. He's a rare hand at getting up early. He's up at four most mornings, and off to his work."