"The company does," explained Murray.
"Which company?"
"The one of which my father is managing director."
"Are there many of them," Keith asked to be polite. It sounded too much like a fairy tale.
"Seven," replied Murray casually. "They are all painted black and sail on foreign ports."
"Did you ever travel on one," inquired Keith with something like awe in his voice.
"Yes," said the slim youngster by his side as if it had been the most natural thing in the world. "Many times, as far as the pilot station, with papa. And last summer he took me along on a real journey to England. That's where our family comes from, and we were gone three whole weeks."
"Were you scared," Keith asked almost in a whisper.
"No." Murray shook his head with quick assurance. "That is, not much. We had a storm in the North Sea coming back, but papa said it was nothing to be afraid of, and for a while I was too sick to care."
"Sick!" Keith echoed. "And were you not awfully scared?"