“Like a top, when I got started,” he replied. “And you?”
“Splendidly, thanks. And you should have seen the breakfast I ate. I am a shameful gourmand when I am at sea.”
He took a chair and filled his pipe.
“By the way, how long have you been out on this cruise? You weren’t aboard, were you, the time the mystery schooner led the revenue steamer such a chase?”
“No,” she replied, “but I wish I had been. I nearly died when I heard about that; it was so funny. I have only been aboard about four days. I’ll tell you the history of it.
“I was having a very delightful dinner up at Mallaby House with Mrs. Tanner, Nellie’s mother, you know”––she looked unconcernedly out to sea––“when I got a message, part wireless and part telegram, saying that Nat Burns had nabbed you in St. Pierre and was racing with you to St. Andrew’s.
“Well, I’ve sworn all along that you shouldn’t come to any harm through him, so I just left Freekirk Head the next morning on the steamer, took a train to Halifax, and had the schooner pick me up there. Off Halifax they told me that the Nettie B. was six hours ahead of us and going hard, so we had to wing it out for all there was in this one. I had provided all the naval fixings before, realizing that we would probably have to use them some time, and that’s all there is to it.”
“Well, Elsa, I’ll say this––that I don’t believe that there was ever a schooner built that could outgame and outsail this one. She’s a wonder!”
For a while they talked of trite and inconsequential things. It was very necessary that they become firmly grounded on their new footing of genuine friendship before departing into personalities; and so, for two days, they avoided any but the most casual topics.