"Oh, maybe he has good news for Davy," cried Margaret. "You run out and meet him, David."
Mr. Cochran entered the door a moment later, with the air of an intruder. He hesitated in the doorway of the crowded little room and fumbled with his hat.
"Plenty of room at the table," said Captain John, rising and holding out his hand. "Becket, you hang yourself out on the fire-escape and make room for Mr. Cochran. Margaret, a plate and another cup of coffee."
"These are my best friends, Mr. Cochran," put in David, presenting them by name. "We have sort of adopted each other all round."
Mr. Cochran sank into a chair, while Margaret timidly asked him:
"Will you have a piece of my apple pie, sir? These sailor men seem to like it."
"It is simply grand," rumbled Mr. Becket from the window.
The visitor looked about him. Something in the homely cheer and affection of this atmosphere seemed to touch his emotions. His eyes were moist and his voice was not quite steady as he thanked Margaret and then said to David:
"You are lucky to have such friends, and they have made no mistake in you. I went down to the ship to find you and the bos'n sent me here. I—I was asked to come, and——"