“I altered my mind,” said Mr. Smith, “and not liking waste, and seeing by your manner that you've 'ad more than enough already tonight, I drunk it. There isn't another man in Sunwich I could ha' played that trick on, no, nor a boy neither.”
Mr. Wilks was about to speak, but, thinking better of it, threw the three spoons in the kitchen, and resuming his seat by the fire sat with his back half turned to his visitor.
“Bright, cheerful young chap, 'e is,” said Mr. Smith; “you've knowed 'im ever since he was a baby, haven't you?”
Mr. Wilks made no reply.
“The Conqueror's sailing to-morrow morning, too,” continued his tormentor; “his father's old ship. 'Ow strange it'll seem to 'im following it out aboard a whaler. Life is full o' surprises, Mr. Wilks, and wot a big surprise it would be to you if you could 'ear wot he says about you when he comes to 'is senses.”
“I'm obeying orders,” growled the other.
“Quite right,” said Mr. Smith, approvingly, as he drew a bottle of whisky from his bag and placed it on the table. “Two glasses and there we are. We don't want any salt and vinegar this time.”
Mr. Wilks turned a deaf ear. “But 'ow are you going to manage so as to make one silly and not the other?” he inquired.
“It's a trade secret,” said the other; “but I don't mind telling you I sent the cap'n something to take afore he comes, and I shall be in your kitchen looking arter things.”
“I s'pose you know wot you're about?” said Mr. Wilks, doubtfully.