Mr. Dobb gave a half-pitying shrug of the shoulders.
Five minutes later a husky, indignant and profane Mr. Pincott had taken his departure, and the discredited picture had gone with him. Mr. Lister expressed his gratitude to Mr. Dobb in the warmest terms.
“That’s quite all right, sir,” said Mr. Dobb. “I don’t like to see no one cheated by chaps like ’im, if I can ’elp it.”
“In future,” promised Mr. Lister, “I shall stick by you and abide by your decisions alone.”
“I’ll look after you all right, sir,” returned Mr. Dobb.
That same evening, at a convivial little gathering at the “Royal William,” Mr. Dobb loyally and uncomplainingly paid out two pounds to each of his former shipmates.
“A little present from Mr. Pincott,” he observed, flippantly.
“All the same, ’Orace,” said Mr. Tridge, thoughtfully, “’ow was you so cocksure about the pickcher being a wrong ’un? You’d ’ave looked funny if it ’ad turned out genuine. After all, seeing it’s been ’anging up all those years in that there little shop, and never left the family—”
“I knew it wasn’t genuine,” stated Mr. Dobb. “I knew jolly well. Matter of fact, I give that old gal ten bob to ’ang the pickcher up in ’er shop. Matter of fact, it was my property to start with. See?”