“’Ere!” exclaimed Mr. Dobb, in some alarm. “’E don’t know you and me and Peter and Sam Clark was all shipmates together once, does ’e?”
“No, ’e don’t,” said Mr. Tridge, flushing a little.
“’Ow do you know ’e don’t?” demanded Mr. Dobb.
“Because,” said Mr. Tridge, rather reluctantly, “I’ve always give ’im to understand that afore family misfortunes made me take a ’air-dresser’s shop I was second in command on a torpeder-boat!”
“And ’e believed that?” cried Mr. Clark.
“’E said that ’e’d guessed it! Said that there was always something about us naval chaps what couldn’t be disguised, no matter ’ow ’ard we tried!” related Mr. Tridge, with pride.
“Well, then, we shan’t ’ave no trouble with ’im!” foretold Mr. Lock, happily. “I don’t know the chap myself; he don’t come to the ‘Royal William’ billiard-saloon, as I knows of. Have you ever met him, Sam?”
“’Undreds of times!” asserted Mr. Clark. “I often ferries ’im across the river.” Mr. Clark paused, and his eyes twinkled joyously. “’E thinks I used to be a smack-owner!” he crowed.
“Whatever made ’im think that?” asked Mr. Tridge, in surprise.
“I told ’im so!” shamelessly answered Mr. Clark. “A smack-owner! Me! Only I was unlucky!”