He seemed quite pleased to see Peter, and by and by Sam, who was bursting with curiosity, came down-stairs to ask Peter to lend 'im a boot-lace, and was interduced. Then Ginger came down to look for Sam, and in a few minutes they was all talking as comfortable as possible.
“I ain't seen Peter for twenty years,” ses Mr. Goodman—“twenty long years!”
Sam shook his 'ead and looked at the floor.
“I happened to go and see Peter's sister—my niece Polly,” ses Mr. Goodman, “and she told me the name of 'is ship. It was quite by chance, because she told me it was the fust letter she had 'ad from him in seven years.”
“I didn't think it was so long as that,” ses Peter. “Time passes so quick.”
His uncle nodded. “Ah, so it does,” 'e ses. “It's all the same whether we spend it on the foaming ocean or pass our little lives ashore. Afore we can turn round, in a manner o' speaking, it 'as gorn.”
“The main thing,” ses Peter, in a good voice, “is to pass it properly.”
“Then it don't matter,” ses Ginger.
“So it don't,” ses Sam, very serious.
“I held 'im in my arms when 'e was a baby,” ses Mr. Goodman, looking at Peter.