“I guess we’ll be going,” said Jack carelessly. “We just thought we’d drop in. Not finding you at home, we took the liberty of looking around.”
Bill nodded soberly. “Right you be, right you be. I thought maybe, though, you seen me goin’ out that time you waved to me.”
“Oh, was that you in the dory?” asked Bee innocently.
“That was me, mate, but I cal’ate you couldn’t tell at that distance.”
“Oh, we knew you,” said Hal rashly and rudely. “What’s more, we’re getting to know you better all the time.”
Bill Glass blinked untroubledly. “That’s right, mate. We be neighbors in a way o’ speakin’ an’ neighbors ought for to be friendly. I take it kind o’ ye to call, mates.”
Jack couldn’t make up his mind whether the man was speaking sarcastically or not. “You—you’ve got a real cosy place here,” he murmured.
“It does well enough for a chap like I be,” agreed Bill. “Not much in the way o’ luxury, you see, but comfortable, comfortable. I ain’t a-sayin’ that I wouldn’t like a fine house on Church Hill, mates, an’ a carriage to drive about in an’ servants to wait on me, but I be contented, I be contented. There’s many that lives in fine state an’ ain’t no happier’n I be; not so happy, likely. It’s a clean conscience, mates, as brings joy and happiness. Poor I be, but honest. That’s me, shipmates all, Honest Bill Glass.”
“That’s a nice pair of oars you have out there,” said Hal with apparent irrelevancy.