"Not exactly the word," said Pete. "It is better to say the week's wash. My dear seagoing secretary, there is wash enough in that backyard not only for you and me, but for the whole crew of the Sunshine, if they had happened to be cast away with us."
"Well, if there are clothes there, for Heaven's sake, why didn't you bring some? I'm getting chilly."
"Wash, I said; not clothes. You'll understand when you see. The reason I didn't bring any is simple: it was still broad daylight. Back in the orchard I had partial concealment among the trees, but I took chances, even there. To have invaded the raiment department would have been foolhardiness, for which I have never been celebrated. So I merely located the outfit and provided myself with food."
He glanced out at the harbor.
"In a very short time it will be twilight, and when twilight comes we will see what can be done to remove a rival from the path of Annette Kellerman."
Mary was too deeply interested in these disclosures to pay any attention to this reference to her present costume. He had brought a new hope into her life. Clothes at last! After that—well, clothes came first. Except, of course, the apples. She began to eat another.
Never had a twilight gathered so slowly. Just as she had been immovable before, now it was difficult to restrain her impatience. She was for starting at once.
"I'm getting chillier all the time," she complained.
"Patience," he counseled. "Give us fifteen minutes more. If you're cold you might spend the time doing setting-up exercises."
He took his own advice and began a series of exercises that were highly recommended to the pupils of Kid Whaley's gymnasium. Mary watched for awhile and then emulated him, so that two figures were presently engaged in an occupation that suggested nothing so much as a pair of railroad semaphores gone mad. Eventually they paused breathless.