“I only hopes as how I’ll suit the Capting,” said he earnestly. “I’ll try to—that I will!”
“Suit me, eh?” cried that worthy with a chuckle, and his little black eyes twinkling away. “That will be ‘changey for changey, black dog for white monkey,’ as the niggers say. You will have to suit me in return for my having suit-ed you, my lad, eh? Ho—ho—ho!”
Chapter Six.
On the Beach.
“Oh, dear! Oh, dear!” cried Bob presently, stopping on their way homewards at a nice-looking pastry-cook’s shop hard by the dockyard-gates, whose wide green windows framed an appetising display of cakes and buns which appealed strangely to his gastronomic feelings; while a fragrant odour, as of hot mutton-pies, the speciality of the establishment, a renowned one in its way amongst middies and such like small fry who frequented the neighbourhood, oozed out from its hospitably-open door, perfuming lusciously the air around—“I am so hungry!”
“By Jove, my boy, so am I, too, now I think of it,” said the Captain, likewise coming to a halt and proceeding to enter the shop, followed by his eager companions. “Let us pipe down to lunch at once. This is a famous place for pies; and you may rely on having mutton in ’em and not puppies!”
The old Captain ‘stood treat,’ of course, and the boys had such a glorious ‘tuck out’ that they were behind time when they got back to Mrs Gilmour’s house on the south parade.
“Aunt Polly” and Nellie were both ready and waiting for them outside, dressed in walking attire; while Rover was frisking round the ladies, though he darted up to his young master the moment he caught sight of him, forgetting, with all a good dog’s magnanimity, the ill-treatment he had received in not being allowed to accompany him to the dockyard.