Mrs. Steele and Señor Noma call us from the corner of the Plaza as we approach.
"We've been round four times hunting for you; where in the world have you been?" says Mrs. Steele, looking disapproving and a little out of breath.
"Walking about here looking for you! I couldn't imagine where you were," I say.
The others come up and we turn our faces towards the harbour. The dusky oarsmen are waiting for us, and we are soon skimming over the dark water—I with my hoard of flowers in my lap and my eyes fixed on the great dim hulk of the San Miguel anchored out in the bay.
CHAPTER III
I AM LECTURED
