She glanced aside at Mrs. Ingham-Baker, who was beaming on Fitz, as the simple-hearted beam on the rising sun.
“Yes,” said the stout lady, “we are all so delighted. Agatha was only saying yesterday that your success was wonderful. She was quite excited about it.”
The fond mother looked invitingly towards her daughter with a smile that said as plainly as words--
“There you are! I have cleared the stage for you--step in and score a point.”
But Agatha did not respond.
“I suppose it is a steamer,” continued Mrs. Ingham-Baker eagerly. “A steam man-of-war.”
“Yes,” replied Fitz, with perfect gravity, “a steam man-of-war.”
“The Horrible--or the Terrible, is it not?”
“The Terrific.”
There was an account of the new war-ship in the evening paper which Agatha had laid aside, and Fitz was impolitely glancing at this while he spoke. The journal gave the names of the officers. Fitz was wondering whether Eve Challoner ever saw the Globe.