“Speak for yourself, young ’ooman. You don’t know nothing about my ’art.”
As he spoke, a heavy foot was heard at the bottom of the stair.
“That’s our lodger,” said Liffie; “no foot but his can bang the stair or make it creak like that.”
“Well, I’m off,” cried Billy, descending two steps at a time.
Half-way down he encountered what seemed to him a giant with a chest on his shoulder. It was the darkest part of the stair where they met.
“Look out ahead! Hard a starboard!” growled Captain Bream, who seemed to be heavily weighted.
“Ay, ay, sir!” cried Billy, as he brushed past, bounded into the street, and swaggered away.
“What boy was that, Liffie?” asked the captain, letting down the chest he carried with a shock that caused the frail tenement to quiver from cellar to roof-tree.
“I don’t know, sir.”
“He must be a sailor-boy, from his answer,” rejoined the captain. “Open the door o’ my cabin, lass, and I’ll carry it right in. It’s somewhat heavy.”