“You have no sister on board,” he said. “No bitter regrets for letting her come into such danger.”
“No,” I said, rather chokingly; “but I’ve got people at home, and it would be very horrid to think I should never see them again.”
“Let’s go on,” he said laconically, and I helped him along, choosing the easiest moments till we were in shelter, and then without leaving hold of me he whispered—
“Make the best of things to her.”
There was a lamp burning in the cabin as we entered, and Miss Denning sprang to our side.
“Oh, John,” she cried piteously, “this will be death to you, drenched with the cold sea! Pray, pray, stay in shelter now.”
“Nonsense!” he cried; “it does me good, and it’s grandly exciting to fight the storm like this. How are you, little one? Ah, don’t touch me, I’m wet.”
“Suffering terribly, John dear. You must stay with me now.”
“Tied to your apron, you foolish girl,” he said merrily. “Nonsense! I’m wanted to help. There, I bring you good news. We’ve got all the pirates safely in prison, and as soon as the storm’s over all will be right again.”
Miss Denning gave me a piteous, inquiring look.