“Oh, yes, of course it’s a trading schooner, but it was originally a gentleman’s yacht, and sails like one.”
“Indeed!” said the boy sneeringly. “And pray whose is it?”
Poole looked at him open-eyed as if expecting to see him suffering from a little deliriousness again; but as no sign was visible he merely said quietly—
“My father’s.”
“And pray who’s your father?”
Poole looked at him again, still in doubt.
“That is.”
“Oh!”
There was silence for a few moments, before Fitz turned himself wearily and said in a careless, off-hand tone—
“And what’s the name of the craft?”