"Here you are." It was the gay voice of the returning Silvia. "So sorry I've been so long. But I've had to hunt for you. One might have known you would choose the coolest and quietest spot in the whole garden."
As the sailorman was handing them into the car, Silvia said:
"By the way, have you remembered to tell Mr. Harper about Klondyke?"
"Yes, I have," said Mary.
"It will be priceless to see you and Klondyke meet," said Silvia. "We shall not say a word about you. You are to be kept a secret. You have just got to come and be sprung on him, and then you've got to tell him to stand by and go about like the sailormen in Stevenson."
Henry Harper tried very hard to laugh. It was so clearly expected of him. But he failed rather lamentably.
"I don't suppose he'll remember me," was all he could say. "It's years and years since we met. I was only half-grown and half-baked in those days."
"Of course, he'll remember you," said Silvia, "if you really sailed round the world together before the mast. But you will let us hear you talk? And it must be pure brigantine Excelsior, mustn't it, Mary?"
"He's already promised."
In the Sailor's opinion, this was not strictly true; at least he had no recollection of having gone so far as to make a promise. He could hardly have been such a fool. Mary, in her enthusiasm, was taking a little too much for granted.