“Grilled sardines and toast, sir? Prawns is off,” he said to a man in the group.
“The company doesn’t pander to our appetites,” Kit remarked to Alison. “Do you like grilled sardines?”
The steward turned his head and Alison’s heart beat, but the adventure was intriguing and she felt Kit would not let her down. Kit beckoned the man.
“Two portions, please! Have you coffee?”
“Coffee’s not served after dinner. I might, perhaps——”
“Never mind; we musn’t break the rules,” said Kit. “Bring the sardines.”
The steward went off, and when he returned he carried two plates. Alison took her plate. Kit had banished her moodiness, and although she doubted if she ought to agree, his ordering a first-class passenger’s supper was something of a joke. After a time she got up, and he put a coin on a plate.
“I’m not scrupulous about cheating a steamship company, but one ought not to cheat a steward,” he remarked. “Then, since he reckons on getting his tips at Montreal, he’ll speculate about our generosity, and he may see the joke. Unless the other sees it, a joke has not much point.”
They stole away, and at the bottom of the ladder Alison laughed.
“Your code’s elastic.”