"Yes," admitted the Californian, full of a new scheme, yet always generous, "and that was a ten-strike, your wife, after supper, taking Miss Hayle away from Hugh and Gideon in such gay style. Did you see how't sort o' eased the old man's mind?"
The leadsman's cry changed and so came twice or thrice, Hugh as often repeating it to the pilots, while Ramsey and Mrs. Gilmore, though hearkening, whispered busily.
"Shoaling," commented Mrs. Gilmore to Ramsey.
"Not seriously," said the river-wise Ramsey. "Go on. What did you get out of him at last?" She had a merry sparkle.
Once more the far-below cry rose to them and was restated by Hugh without color or thrill. Ramsey well knew that so it was always sung and spoken, yet she remarked:
"Hear that absurd difference—in those two voices."
"That's the difference between him and other men, Ramsey; even between him and your father."
She liked that, though now she felt bitter toward him for not being more like ordinary mortals.
"Go on," she lightly repeated. "If he won't make words happen with me I must take him second-hand."
"You naughty girl! He'll tell you all you'll let him."