“I wonder where Juddy and Helena went to?” suddenly exclaimed Ruth. Donald laughed and his teeth gleamed white in the moonlight. “Nice teeth!” mentally remarked Ruth.
“I think I can hear him talking on top of the Cape,” he answered. “Listen!” In the quiet of the evening, Judson’s voice floated down to them. He was giving Helena a lesson on the stars, and they could imagine him pointing them out.
“There’s Ursa Majoris! There’s Polaris! Arcturus! Sirius! Andromeda! Cassiopeia!” and so on. Ruth chuckled. “Juddy evidently has scared up something interesting for Helena. She adores that sort of thing. I was afraid he would find nothing to talk about but royal sails and gallant topsails and that sea stuff.”
“You misjudge your brother, Ruth,” said Donald. “He is a well-read man and can converse on many subjects not connected with the sea and ships.”
“He ought to be. He was at school long enough. He had a good education, though, by the way he talks sometimes, you’d think he never saw the inside of a school-room. But I’m very fond of Juddy. I like him the best of all, and I would like to see him married and settled. Don’t you think Helena and he would make a good match?” She watched him curiously when she asked the question.
“I most certainly do,” replied Donald heartily. He thought he detected a faint expression of relief on her face at his answer, and the thought pleased him mightily.
“We’d better skip along, folks! There’s a fog rolling in.” It was Judson calling from the hill path. Regretfully, Donald rose and assisted Ruth to her feet, and taking her arm, helped her up the slope. When upon the path again, he evidently labored under the delusion that his partner was short-sighted or unable to walk without assistance, as he failed to withdraw the aiding arm. To his secret delight, the girl made no protest or attempt to withdraw. Upon such trivial actions do we record another knot ahead on the log slate of love!
Back on the verandah of the house, they separated into two groups, and the intimate hour passed all too quick for Donald. The skipper struck a match and looked at his watch. He would have liked to have sat the whole night out with Helena, but he had the old-fashioned notion that half-past ten was a pretty late hour ashore. “I suppose you girls’ll be making for bed naow?” he observed regretfully.
“I guess we must,” said Helena, smiling to herself. Helena was city bred. “What time do you sail, Judson?”
“We’ll go out on the first of the ebb-tide at six, I expect.”