"Run up the rigging as you do. I heard one of the sailors talking to Mrs. Meyrich the other day, and he said you were too daring, and some day you'd have a slip, and be overboard, if you did not look sharp."
"Oh, I'll take care of myself, Cecily. At one time I thought of being a sailor, and I was always climbing, always climbing at home. There isn't the least fear. I'm not rash. I'm a very careful fellow."
"Are you? I'm glad of that. Had you tall trees at your home?"
Gerald gave the little hand a squeeze.
"They were like other trees," he said. "Don't let us talk of them."
"Mustn't we? I'm sorry. I wanted to hear all about your home."
"I haven't a home, Cecily. Once I had one, but you can understand that it is painful to speak of what one has lost."
"I'm very sorry for you, dear Mr. Wyndham. Did you lose a little sister, too? Is that why you squeeze me so tight?"
"I have lost many little sisters; we won't talk of them, either. What is the matter, Cecily? Do you feel faint?"
"No, but I hate this rough, choppy sea. I want it to be smooth again as it used to be. Then I can go on deck, and lie under the awning, and you can sit near me, and tell me stories. Will you?"