"Father, Mother asked me to bring you your meal!"
The boy held up a lunchbox and called out to a dockworker on the pier, then accidentally tripped over a hemp rope at his feet. Just as both he and the lunchbox in his hand were about to meet disaster, Shade beside him reached out to steady the boy and caught the lunchbox that had flown from his grasp:
"Be more careful."
He said this to the boy.
The dockworker in the short-sleeved shirt hurriedly set down the sack he had been carrying on his shoulder and ran over. Since he was paid by the piece, the foreman merely frowned and did not stop him.
"Newman, are you all right?"
The man asked his son, then awkwardly thanked Shade:
"Thank you so much, sir."
From Shade's clothing, he could tell that Shade was not from the Dock Area, so he spoke with particular respect. The boy was even more reserved, clutching his father's hand and hiding behind him.
Shade did not mind. He returned the lunchbox to the boy, then asked the man:
"Would you mind if I treated you both to dinner? I'm a travel writer from out of town, and I'd like to learn about the local customs. I won't take up much of your time. We can eat at that tavern over there, my treat. Your son can come too."
Had Shade not just helped the boy, this request would have seemed rather abrupt. But under the circumstances, the man hesitated only briefly before nodding.
"Of course, sir. Thank you for your generosity. But could you wait a little while? There are still ten minutes until the end of the shift."
Shade did not mind waiting a while longer. When the man hoisted the sack back onto his