"Why?"
"I just wanted to ask you how long you would boil a bit o' beef," said
Mr. Letts. "Only from curiosity; I should never ship as cook again."
He narrated his experience of the last few days, and, finding the
listener sympathetic, talked at some length about himself and his
voyages; also of his plans for the future.
"I lost my son at sea," said the woman, with a sigh. "You favor him
rather."
Mr. Letts's face softened. "Sorry," he said. "Sorry you lost him, I
mean."
"At least, I suppose he would have been like you," said the other; "but
it's nine years ago now. He was just sixteen."
Mr. Letts--after a calculation--nodded. "Just my age," he said. "I was
twenty-five last March."
"Sailed for Melbourne," said the woman. "My only boy."
Mr. Letts cleared his throat, sympathetically.
"His father died a week after he sailed," continued the other, "and three
months afterwards my boy's ship went down. Two years ago, like a fool, I
married again. I don't know why I'm talking to you like this. I suppose
it is because you remind me of him."
"You talk away as much as you like," said Mr. Letts, kindly. "I've got
nothing to do."
He lit another cigarette, and, sitting in an attitude of attention,
listened to a recital of domestic trouble that made him congratulate
himself upon remaining single.
"Since I married Mr.
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