CHAPTER TWO.
HOW BILLY WIDGEON BROUGHT A LETTER.
The man who was working so hard at the mat was a sailor of apparently about five-and-thirty, carefully dressed in his shore-going suit of navy blue, and carrying a very tightly-done-up dandified umbrella, which looked as out of place in his hands as a parasol would daintily poised by a grenadier guard.
He was a strong squarely-built fellow, with crisp black hair and close beard, and if he had gone under a standard the height he would have reached would probably have been five feet, the result of this being that he had to look up at Mark Strong, who was about five feet six, and at the maid, who was only a couple of inches less.
"Want to see my father ?" said Mark, as the man continued to stare and wipe his shoes.
"Ware sharks! Heave off, you ugly lubber! I say: will he bite ?" This was consequent upon a pattering of toe-nails upon the oil-cloth and the appearance of Bruff, the dog, who began to walk round the visitor and smell him.
"No, he won't bite friends," said Mark.
"Tip us your fin, then, messm't," said the sailor, holding out his hand.
"Give him your paw, Bruff," cried Mark; but the dog paid no heed, only continued to smell the visitor.
"Wheer's the skipper ?" said the sailor then, hoarsely.

"You his boy ?" "Yes," said Mark, gazing enviously at a man who was probably one of those about to sail with Captain Strong on his voyage to Singapore and China.

"I say, don't wear out the door-mat." "Eh?
No, m'lad, I won't wear out the mat.

You see we don't have no mats afloat.

I say! my!" The man bent down, as if seized with a cramping internal pain, and gave his right leg a slap with his horny paw, whose back was as hairy as that of a monkey.
"What's the matter ?" said Mark.
"Matter! I was only larfin.