The barber shook his head. "You're determined to have off your
chin-beard?"

"_To_ be sure. I'm ashore now, aren't I?--and free to wear what face I
choose."

"You won't find it so, Cap'n."

"T'ch't! You landsmen be so fed with liberty you don't know your
privileges. If you don't like your habits, what hinders you from
changin' 'em? But _do_ you? Here I come back: here's th' old Town Quay
same as ever it was; and here likewise you all be, runnin' on as I left
'ee, like a clockwork--a bit slower with age maybe--that's all.
Whereby I conclude your ways content ye."

"You're wrong, Cap'n Cai--you're wrong. We bide by our habits--an',
more by token, here comes Mr Philp. 'Morning, Mr Philp." The barber,
without turning, nodded towards the newcomer as he entered--a short man,
aged about sixty, with a square-cut grey beard, sanguine complexion, and
blue eyes that twinkled with a deceptive appearance of humour.
"Here's Cap'n Cai Hocken, home from sea."

"Eh? I am very glad to see you, Cap'n Hocken," said Mr Philp politely.
"There's a post-card waitin' for you, up at the Office."

Captain Cai sat bolt upright of a sudden, narrowly missing a wound from
the scissors. "That will be from 'Bias! To think I hadn' sense enough
to go straight to the Post Office and inquire!"

"'Tis from your friend, sure enough," announced Mr Philp. "He paid off