"It was Inez who cooked the fish. It's in Spanish style."
"Good!" exclaimed Jack, as he flashed another look at Bess, with whom he seemed to have some understanding. "Whatever style it is, I'm for it. I don't care whether it has gores down the side, and plaits up the middle, with frills around the ruffles, or whatever you call them—it's good."
The others laughed, while Inez looked very much puzzled at Jack's juggling of dressmaking terms.
"Is it zat I have put too much paprika on ze fith?" asked the Spanish girl.
"No, Jack is just trying to be funny," explained Cora. "He thinks it's great—don't you, Jack?"
"What, to be funny?"
"No, to eat the fish," said Walter.
There was more laughter. Little enough cause for it, perhaps, and yet there seemed to come a sudden relaxation of the strain under which they had all been laboring the last few days, and even a slight excuse for merriment was welcomed.
So the meal went on, and a good one it was. The motor girls, from having gone on many outings, and from having done much camping, were able to cook to satisfy even the sea-ravenous appetites of two young men, although Jack was not exactly "up to the mark."
Then, too, the novelty of shifting for themselves, after being used to the rather indolent luxury of a tropical hotel, made a welcome change to them. Joe had his meal after the others had finished, as it was necessary for some one to stay at the wheel, for the Tartar was slipping along through the blue water at a good rate of speed.