"Sounds like my bo'sun," said the captain, staring as he passed into the front room. "What's he doing here?"
Hartley shook his head.
"Seems to be making himself at home," said the captain, fidgeting. "He's as noisy as if he was in his own house."
"I don't suppose he knows you are here," said his friend, mildly.
Captain Trimblett still fidgeted. "Well, it's your house," he said at last. "If you don't mind that lanky son of a gun making free, I suppose it's no business of mine. If he made that noise aboard my ship—"
Red of face he marched to the window and stood looking out. Fortified by his presence, Hartley rang the bell.
"Is there anybody in the kitchen?" he inquired, as Rosa answered it. "I fancied I heard a man's voice."
"The milkman was here just now," said Rosa, and, eying him calmly, departed.
The captain swung round in wrathful amazement.
"By—," he spluttered; "I've seen—well—by—b-r-r-r——— Can I ring for that d——d bo'sun o' mine?