He began to walk towards the town, and Mr. Heard, with his legs wide apart and his arms held stiffly from his body, waddled along beside him, Two little streamlets followed.
They walked along the quay in silence, and had nearly reached the end of it, when the figure of a man turned the corner of the houses and advanced at a shambling trot towards them.
“Old Smith!” said Mr. Heard, in a hasty whisper. “Now, be careful. Hold me tight.”
The new-comer thankfully dropped into a walk as he saw them, and came to a standstill with a cry of astonishment as the light of a neighboring lamp revealed their miserable condition.
“Wot, Arthur!” he exclaimed.
“Halloa,” said Mr. Heard, drearily.
“The idea o' your being so sinful,” said Mr. Smith, severely. “Emma told me wot you said, but I never thought as you'd got the pluck to go and do it. I'm surprised at you.”
“I ain't done it,” said Mr. Heard, in a sullen voice; “nobody can drownd themselves in comfort with a lot of interfering people about.”
Mr. Smith turned and gazed at the mate, and a broad beam of admiration shone in his face as he grasped that gentleman's hand. “Come into the 'ouse both of you and get some dry clothes,” he said, warmly.
He thrust his strong, thick-set figure between them, and with a hand on each coat-collar propelled them in the direction of home. The mate muttered something about going back to his ship, but Mr. Smith refused to listen, and stopping at the door of a neat cottage, turned the handle and thrust his dripping charges over the threshold of a comfortable sitting-room.