Pip arrived at Knocknaha after breakfast, but Elsie flatly refused to stir outside until the rain had ceased. This was no more than her swain had expected, and he returned resignedly to the hotel, where he passed an exceedingly unprofitable morning smoking and playing billiards.
After luncheon an ancient mariner in a blue jersey and a high-crowned bowler hat approached him on the hotel veranda and intimated that the day was a good one for deep-sea fishing. It was certainly no day for courting, and Pip, weary in spirit, was fain to accept the implied invitation.
They walked to the beach together, and began to haul down the old man's boat. This done, the oars and tackle were put in, and the expedition was on the point of departure when Pip suddenly realised that it had stopped raining.
"Hallo!" he said. "Rain over?"
"Aye," remarked the old man; "it will be a grand afternoon yet."
Pip turned upon him suddenly.
"Are you sure?" he asked.
"Aye."
"Certain?"
"'Deed aye," replied the old gentleman rather testily. "When the top of yon ben is uncovered like so, and the wind—"