“Oh, dear, no!” she cried with a shiver, “I’m so afraid of the water.”
“Are you?” he said, smiling. “Well, it would be a job to get all that pretty hair dry again.”
Madge coloured with pleasure.
“It is so nice walking over the rocks quite early,” she said.
“Yes, I suppose so. Well, I must be off.”
“Are you going for a walk?” she said naïvely.
“Yes, but only on my way to work. Good-by for the present. I say, Miss Mullion, a nice bit of brown fish for breakfast, please. I shall be as hungry as a hunter when I come back.”
He walked sharply off, not seeing that uncle Paul’s blind stirred slightly, and Madge stood gazing after him.
“He’s as cold as a stone,” said the girl, petulantly. “I declare I hate him—that I do. But I’ll pique him yet, see if I don’t, clever as he is. He’ll be sorry for this some day. A great, ugly, stupid thing!”
The tears of vexation stood in her eyes, but they disappeared almost directly.