"Willingly, if you are in the humour for it," said Mr. Haveloc; "but first, Miss Fitzpatrick, I must see you look a little more comfortable; I shall order up a heap of cushions, and install you like 'Lalla Rookh,' before I begin to read."
"Oh! what a Sybarite!" cried Aveline, as he arranged a pile of red silk cushions for her upon the deck, "do look, mamma!"
"I am much obliged to Mr. Haveloc," said Mrs. Fitzpatrick, "and feel very little disposed to quarrel with his luxurious equipments, for really Aveline you do begin to look rather fagged."
"I hope he is clever, this country practitioner," said Mr. Haveloc, looking up suddenly from his task.
"Clever!" cried Aveline. "Mamma would be highly offended with any one else who should presume to call her Mr. Lindsay clever. He is a man of excellent judgment, Mr. Haveloc."
"I am glad of it," said Mr. Haveloc, "for your sake."
Aveline smiled and settled herself to listen.
The day was beautiful, the coast in the distance was reduced to a miniature picture steeped in the most delicious and variegated tints. The air was hot and still, and nothing interrupted the silence but the flapping of a sail, and the gentle sound of the water rising and falling slowly against the side of the vessel.
"We make but little way," said Mr. Haveloc.
"That does not matter. It is pleasant to lie at anchor. Suppose we were becalmed in the midst of the Pacific?" said Aveline.