“I mean like the holes the missuses makes in the dough with their fingers. Finishes off by giving a poke in the top with a finger, and that closes up into a crinkly slit with a swelling around.”
“Bah!” growled Aleck.
“Well, you would ask me, sir.”
“Yes, of course. Something like Big Jem’s?”
“Yes, sir; on’y more squeezed in like. Your eyes is allus handsome and bright like, but they arn’t now. But, there, don’t you mind that, sir. They turn nasty colours like for a bit, but, as I says, don’t you mind. Big Jem’s face was a reg’lar picter. I don’t know what his father’ll say when he sees him.”
“And I don’t know what uncle will say when he sees me,” said Aleck, despondently.
“Eh? The captain?” cried the sailor, in a startled tone of voice. “Phe-ew!” he whistled. “I forgot all about him. I say, my lad, he won’t like to see you this how.”
“No,” said Aleck, dismally.
“Arn’t got no aunts or relations as you could go and see for a fortnit, have you?”
“No, Tom; I have no relatives but Uncle Donne.”