“Eh, why not? There are none of them here. I wish we could have caught one to dry or stuff, or keep in spirits. I mean quite a little one, you know. Ah, those were rather horrid times, though, and I shan’t want a specimen reptile to make me remember them.”
“No,” said Morny musingly; “we want nothing to make us recollect them.”
“But I suppose it is nearly all over now, for our voyages will soon come to an end.”
“Oh no?” cried Morny eagerly. “Why should they, now that your uncle and my father have become such friends?”
The lads both started, for those of whom they were speaking just then strolled up behind them.
“Well, boys,” said the Count gravely, “what are you two talking about?”
“Rodd was saying that he supposed our friendship would soon come to an end.”
“Indeed?” cried the Count, raising his eyebrows and turning to give a meaning glance at Uncle Paul. “Why should it, eh, my lad? I thought you and Morny had become such fast friends.”
“Yes, so we have, sir,” cried Rodd, flushing; “but I didn’t quite mean that, for I hope we shall often meet; but I thought that now we are out at sea again we should be separating. The brig will be going one way, and we shall be going another.”
“Do you wish this to be so?” said the Count, after another glance at Uncle Paul.