"The only
other thing would be 'Salad,' an' I don't like salads. Don't you
find it hard work to 'member all of your name?"
"I don't try to," he said. "There's a lot more of it, but I've
forgotten the rest."
"Thank you," said Trot. "Oh, here comes Cap'n Bill!" as she glanced
over her shoulder.
Button-Bright turned also and looked solemnly at the old sailor who
came stumping along the path toward them. Cap'n Bill wasn't a very
handsome man. He was old, not very tall, somewhat stout and chubby,
with a round face, a bald head, and a scraggly fringe of reddish
whisker underneath his chin. But his blue eyes were frank and merry,
and his smile like a ray of sunshine. He wore a sailor shirt with a
broad collar, a short peajacket and wide-bottomed sailor trousers,
one leg of which covered his wooden limb but did not hide it. As he
came "pegging" along the path--as he himself described his hobbling
walk--his hands were pushed into his coat pockets, a pipe was in his
mouth, and his black neckscarf was fluttering behind him in the
breeze like a sable banner.
Button-Bright liked the sailor's looks. There was something very
winning--something jolly and carefree and honest and sociable--about
the ancient seaman that made him everybody's friend, so the strange
boy was glad to meet him.
"Well, well, Trot," he said, coming up, "is this the way you hurry
to town?"
"No, for I'm on my way back," said she.
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