The next minute the boy was back, looking on in an extremely supercilious way, but all the while his eyes were bright with interest; and at last he spoke again in a consequential manner:
“What’s that nasty stuff?”
“What nasty stuff?” replied Will, looking up again.
“That!” cried the stranger, pointing with his cane at the small box containing Will’s bait.
Before the latter could answer there was a shout at the end of the pier.
“Ahoy! Ar—thur! Taff!” and a boy of the age and height of the first stranger came tearing along the stones panting loudly, and pulling up short to give Will’s questioner a hearty slap on the back.
“Here, I’ve had a job to find you, Taff. I’ve been looking everywhere.”
“I wish you would not be so rough, Richard,” said the one addressed, divine his shoulders a hitch, and frowning angrily as he saw that Will was watching them intently. “There’s no need to be so boisterous.”
“No, my lord. Beg pardon, my lord,” said the other boy with mock humility; and then, with his eyes twinkling mirthfully, he thrust his stiff straw hat on to the back of his head, and plumped himself down in a sitting position on the edge of the pier, with his legs dangling down towards the bulwark of the lugger, and his heels softly drubbing the stone wall.
For though to a certainty twin brother of the first stranger, he was very differently dressed, having on a suit of white boating flannels and a loose blue handkerchief knotted about his neck.