"Yes!" said Garth, sitting up.
Jim shook hands with him.
"Thank you," he said.
Garth twisted a button of his father's coat and tucked his head down.
"Fogger," he said, "I want to ask you something."
"Yes?"
"Why does everybody in town look at me, everybody? Is it because I can't walk right?"
"Partly, perhaps," said Jim, "and partly because you always look as though you were enjoying things a good deal. They don't often see people who look like that. Let 'em look, say I! When I'm out on the high seas I shall envy all those people very much, having a chance to look at you."
Garth laughed shakily.
"I'm afraid I messed your collar up awfully," he said.
"It doesn't matter," said Jim. "It needed a little salt water, like the rest of my clothes. I shall take it off in a minute, anyhow, and get into my other things. And suppose you wash your face."
"I can't," said Garth. "The crutches are left downstairs."
