“Yes, I would if I were you,” Mr. Wing advised her. “I think Breck is thoroughly interesting, and to be bromidic, he is one of ‘nature’s gentlemen’ if not one of society’s. Besides, from little things he let drop one night when we were on the same watch, I believe he took this job for some definite reason other than for self-support. Often I have wished he would mix a bit more with us. You are the only one of the girls he even notices. Sometimes I think he isn’t awfully happy—anything you can do with him or for him, Plain Jane, will be heartily approved by the skipper, I can assure you.”
Their conversation was stopped by the appearance of Breck through the galley hatch. “If you are ready, Miss Pellew, I will be very glad to take you to the Western Union,” he said very formally.
“Heavens!” thought Jane, “he is all stiff again. How can I unbend him so he will be limber as he was this afternoon. I will begin with some clever, original remark about the weather.”
But Breck anticipated her by saying politely, “When we get up as far north as Portland, I expect we will see some northern lights.” Then warming to his subject he continued, “I believe you said you had never been north before. I do hope we have a chance to see the lights then, because I know you would love them.”
“Unswallowing his poker already,” mentally commented Jane. “This trip will no doubt turn out all right.” Aloud she said frankly, “Breck, I love to talk to you. You always sound as if you had knocked about such a lot—just what I always wanted to do and would have done, no doubt, if I hadn’t been born Jane instead of John.”
Breck smiled at this open compliment and again compared her with his blasé sister and her group of friends suffering from a heavy boredom. “A bit too much, according to some people’s way of thinking,” he answered rather grimly.
“Well, of course, half of the world doesn’t approve of what the other half does and disapproval makes an almost impassable barrier against understanding, but let’s hurry to the telegraph office and then you will poke around this funny little place with me, won’t you?” Jane demanded as they clambered up the wharf ladder.
“I am hoping for several replies to messages I sent at the last port,” Breck told her as they walked along the narrow sidewalk that went past old and battered warehouses and sail lofts.
“Everything even on land at Gloucester has got to do with sea, ships or sailors in some way,” Jane said as she observed the different signs in the shop windows, advertising sailors’ outfits, slickers, rubber boots reaching to the hip and sou’westers.