“Oh, take me somewhere else,” she said, throwing her hands up to her face; “somewhere where there’ll never be nothin’ to eat again. I—I can’t bear to hear about eatin’.”
“I’m going to take her down into one of the cabins,” said Jack hastily, “she belongs in bed.”
“No, turn back the carpet and lay me in the bath-tub,” almost sobbed the poor victim. “I don’t feel like I could get flat enough anywhere else.”
“She has the proper spirit,” said Burnett faintly, “only I don’t feel as if I could get flat enough anywhere at all. What in the name of the Great Pyramid ever possessed me to come?”
Mitchell rose quickly to his feet.
“You put your aunt to bed, Jack,” he said, “and I’ll put my yacht to backing. This expedition is expeditiously heading on to what might be termed a failure. I can see that, even if we’re only in a Sound.”
“When do you suppose we’ll get back?” the nephew asked anxiously.
“About four o’clock, if we don’t lose time by having to tack.”
“I didn’t quite catch all that,” said Aunt Mary, “but I knew suthin’ was loose all along. I felt it inside of me right off at first. And ever since, too.”
Jack gathered her up in his arms and bore her tenderly away to the beautiful main cabin.