The boy paid no regard to him, but, turning to Aspel, introduced himself as Peter Pax.
“What! the comrade-in-arms of my friend Phil Maylands?” asked Aspel.
“The same, at your service,” replied the small messenger; “an’ if you are the friend he talks to me so much about, as goes by the name of George Aspel, an’ is descended in a direct line from the old sea-kings, I’m proud to make your acquaintance.”
Aspel laughed at the consummate self-possession of the boy, and shaking hands with him heartily as a comrade of their common friend Phil, bade him take a seat, which he immediately did on the counter.
“You’re surrounded by pleasant company here,” observed Pax, gazing intently at the pelican of the wilderness.
“Well, yes; but it’s rather silent company,” said Aspel.
“Did that fellow, now,” continued Pax, pointing to the owl, “die of surprise?”
“Perhaps he did, but I wasn’t present at his death,” returned the other.
“Well, now, I do like this sort o’ thing.”
Little Pax said this with such genuine feeling, and looked round him with such obvious interest, that Aspel, with some surprise, asked him why he liked it.