“He must have a new rig out, Dan,” said Joe softly. “You an’ me’ll go an’ buy ’em. I’ll do the choosing, and you’ll do the paying. Why, it’ll be a reg’lar treat for you to lay out a little money, Dan. We’ll have quite an evening’s shopping, everything of the best.”
The infuriated Dan gasped for breath, and looked helplessly at the grinning crew.
“I’ll see him—overboard first,” he said furiously.
“Please yourself,” said Joe shortly, “If he’s caught you’ll get six months. As it is, you’ve got a chance of doing a nice, kind little Christian act, becos, o’ course, that twenty-five bob you got out of him won’t anything like pay for his toggery.”
Almost beside himself with indignation, the old man moved off, and said not another word until they were made fast to the wharf at Limehouse. He did not even break silence when Joe, taking him affectionately by the arm, led him aft to the skipper.
“Me an’ Dan, sir,” said Joe very respectfully, “would like to go ashore for a little shopping. Dan has very kindly offered to lend that pore chap the money for some clothes, and he wants me to go with him to help carry them.”
“Ay, ay,” said the skipper, with a benevolent smile at the aged philanthropist. “You’d better go at once, afore the shops shut.”
“We’ll run, sir,” said Joe, and taking Dan by the arm, dragged him into the street at a trot.
Nearly a couple of hours passed before they returned, and no child watched with greater eagerness the opening of a birthday present than Smith watched the undoing of the numerous parcels with which they were laden.
“He’s a reg’lar fairy godmother, ain’t he?” said Joe, as Smith joyously dressed himself in a very presentable tweed suit, serviceable boots, and a bowler hat. “We had a dreadful job to get a suit big enough, an’ the only one we could get was rather more money than we wanted to give, wasn’t it, Dan?”