“No,” said the lad, smiling in turn. “Is it a song?”
“Yes, and a good one too. That’s ‘The Mermaid,’ that is.”
“But we did not come here to breakfast and discuss old songs, captain,” said the second personage.
“That’s a true word, sir; and we— Hullo! there you are again, are you? Anyone would think you wanted to know. See that chap, sir?”
“Oh, yes, I’ve seen him several times; and he does seem as if he wanted to know something. He has been watching me about ever since my brother and I have been here.”
“So he has me, sir. He’s one of those chaps who take a lot more interest in other persons’ affairs than they do in their own, and if he comes poking his long thin sharp nose in my business he’ll be getting himself into trouble.”
It was a long thin nose, and on either side was a very sharp black beady eye, which did not set off or improve a thin, wrinkled yellow face, as the owner sauntered by with a roughly-made cigar in his mouth, the smoking of which seemed to necessitate the sucking in of the smoker’s cheeks, as he gazed eagerly at the seated party and went on.
“He’s a slave-driver; that’s what he is, for a guinea,” said the captain sourly. “So that’s your brother, is it, sir?”
“Yes, this is my brother,” was the reply.
“Thought he was. Be just like you when he’s a dozen years older.”