“Humph! Yes, he does seem very reticent. His father as good as said, as I think I told you, that this was a voyage of discovery, a search for something he wanted to take back, and which was to make his country very great. But he has never said what, and it would be so very ungentlemanly to seem curious.”
“But you do feel curious to know, don’t you, uncle?”
“Well, I must confess, my boy, that I do—a little jealous, perhaps, of another man’s success, for I did learn as much as this, that he felt pretty sure of being successful if he could get the brig sound again. Well, I suppose we shall know some day.”
“I don’t like to say any more to Morny, uncle. It would seem so small; and besides, he never questions me anything about what we are doing—only seems very much interested.”
“You are quite right, Rodd. It would be mean and petty. Leave it to them, and if they like to take us into their confidence, well and good. If they do not, well, it is no business of ours.”
“Why, uncle,” cried Rodd suddenly, and then he stopped. “It isn’t because—”
Rodd stopped short again, looking straight away over the sea, as if in deep thought.
“Well, my boy? It isn’t because what?”
“Oh, I don’t like to say, uncle. You would laugh at me.”
“How do you know that? Wait and see,” cried Uncle Paul. “Now then, what were you thinking?”