An hour or two more sufficed to carry our smack into port, and then the various members of the crew hurried home.
Billy swaggered beside his father and tried to look manly until he reached his own door, where all thought of personal appearance suddenly vanished, and he leaped with an unmanly squeal of delight into his mother’s arms. You may be sure that those arms did not spare him!
“You’ll not go down to-night, David?” said Mrs Bright, when, having half choked her son, she turned to her husband.
“No, lass,—I won’t,” said the skipper in a tone of decision.
Mrs Bright was much gratified by the promise, for well did she know, from bitter experience, that if her David went down to meet his comrades at the public-house on his arrival, his brief holidays would probably be spent in a state of semi-intoxication. Indeed, even with this promise she knew that much of his time and a good deal of his hardly earned money would be devoted to the publican.
“We’ll not have much of Billy’s company this week, I fear,” said Mrs Bright, with a glance of pride at her son, who returned it with a look of surprise.
“Why so, Nell?” asked her husband.
“Because he has got to go to London.”
“To Lun’on!” exclaimed the father.
“Lun’on!” echoed the son.