"You do see me," I added, impatiently, beginning to have a suspicion that he had lost his senses, what little he had.
"I wanted to ask you something," he added, after a long pause.
"Well, ask it."
"I thought I would tell you about it, and that's the reason I wanted to see you," said Sim, poking about his trousers pockets, just as some boys do when they are going to make a speech in school.
"About what?" I asked, more mildly, when I saw that Sim was sort of choking, and exhibited some signs of an intention to break out in a fit of blubbering.
"I'm a poor boy. I haven't got many friends, and—and I wanted to see you."
This was too much for him, and, turning away his head, he cried like a great baby. I pushed the raft up to a fallen tree, whose trunk was above the water, and stuck the pole down into the mud, so as to keep it in place.
"What is the matter, Sim?" I asked again, seating myself on the log. "If I can help you any way, I will."
"I knew you would; and that's the reason I wanted to see you," blubbered Sim, seating himself by my side.
"You said you stopped work yesterday," I continued, in the kindest tones I could command, for I was much moved by his apparent distress.