Secure from prying eyes, they sat together, side by side, at the bottom of the boat. Alfred slipped an arm round Fancy's waist, and pressed her to him. He wondered whether she would remain cool and calm, when the burning question was asked. With huge satisfaction he noticed that her bosom just heaved beneath her thin blouse. On this blouse rested a tiny gold locket which held the portrait of her sailor brother. Alfred had never seen this locket palpitate before. His own heart thumped almost indecorously at the sight. Stealing a glance at her face, he saw that she was blushing. The silence was so delicious that he hated to break it—and didn't. Certain carefully-prepared phrases whirled out of his mind.
"My!" exclaimed Fancy.
"What is it, dear?"
"A big water-rat!"
"So 'tis. I don't blame him for wishing to have a look at you."
The rat behaved charmingly, peering down at them from the bank, ready to dive into his hole, if the trespassers upon his domain moved.
"He ain't afraid," said Alfred; "but I am."
Fancy said hastily:
"Don't move! What bright eyes he has, to be sure."
"No brighter than others I know."