“I hope you’ll excuse my not standing up,” he said, “I’ve sprained my ankle.”
“I’d like to get in and sit beside you if I may,” said Miss Rutherford. “Now for the food.”
“There’s some cold tongue,” said Frank.
“Capital. I love cold tongue.”
“But—I’m afraid—” He fished it out from beneath the thwart, “—it may be rather grubby.”
“I don’t mind that a bit.”
“And—the fact is my cousin—it’s only fair to tell you—she bit it pretty nearly all over and——” Frank hesitated. He was an honourable boy. Even at the cost of losing Miss Rutherford’s respect he would not refrain from telling the truth, “And I bit it too,” he blurted out.
“Then I suppose I may,” said Miss Rutherford. “I should like to more than anything. I so seldom get the chance.”
She bit and munched heartily; bit again, and smiled at Frank. He began to feel more at his ease.
“There are some biscuits,” he said. “The macaroons are finished, I’m afraid. But there are some cocoanut creams. I’m afraid they’re rather too sweet to go well with tongue.”