Ramsey was even more taken aback than he or old Joy. She knew the pilot was looking down on her, the mate glancing back at her. Yet she laughed and prattled and all at once frowningly said: "But one thing I just can't make out! What on earth had the Hayle blood to do with any right or wrong of selling Phyllis? Do you know?"
Hugh reddened worse, and in that instant, outblushing him, she saw the truth. "Never mind!" she cried. "Oh, did I stop you? Go on!—I—I mean go on down—to breakfast!"
"Won't you go first?"
"No, thank you; go on! Please, go on!" Glancing up to the pilot and catching his amused eye, she pointed distantly ahead. "What is that high bank on the—the stabboard shore?" she asked him.
"Why"—his tobacco caused but a moment's delay—"nothing much. They call that Port Hudson."
"Thank you!" She darted below, where Hugh was already gone. As she started she caught sight of the twins. They had just come up on the far side of the boat and were approaching the mate. Still flushed, but straight as a dart, at the stair's foot she turned on her attendant and with brimming eyes said softly: "I don't want any breakfast. I'm going to the lower deck—to find mom-a."
"You shayn't! You'll git de cholera!"
"Pooh, the cholera!—after what I've got!—I'm going to tell mom-a on you!"
"On me—me! Good Lawd! Go on, I's wid you!"
"You'd no right to tell me that story!"