On the contrary, since her disappearance, Tom had had more pocket-money than ever he had when she was his.
For sympathetic neighbours, pitying his loss, had contributed trifles towards his solace; the Templeton boys, with many of whom he had been a favourite, had tipped him handsomely in his distress, and it was even rumoured that half of a collection for the poor at the parish church a few Sundays ago had been awarded to poor destitute Tom White.
On the whole, Tom felt that if he could lose a _Martha_ twice a year, he might yet sup off tripe and gin-toddy seven times a week.
The "Dolphin" became his banker, and took very particular care of his money.
All this the boy, of course, did not know.

All he knew was that the waistcoat into which he had run belonged to the man he had wronged, who, if he only suspected his wronger, could make the coming summer holidays decidedly tedious for Georgie and his friend.
"Belay there!" hiccupped Tom, reeling back from the collision and catching Heathcote by the arm.

"Got yer, young gem'n! and I'll bash yer!" "I beg your pardon," said Georgie, terribly scared, and seeing already, in his mind's eye, the narrowest cell of the county jail.
Tom blinked at him stupidly, holding him at arm's length and cruising round him.
"Bust me if it ain't a schollard!" said he.

"What cheer, my hearty?
Don't forget, the poor mariner that's lost his _Martha_.

It's very 'ard on a honest Jack tar." How Heathcote's soul went out to the poor British seaman as soon as he discovered that he did not recognise him! He gave him his all--two shillings and one penny--and deemed it a mite to offer to so deserving a cause.