Anny gasped. She knew a little about the importance which sailors in general, and smugglers in particular, attached to the names of their vessels, and was fully sensible of the honour which the Spaniard was conferring upon her. She began to feel flattered.
“You honour me too much, sir,” she said, bobbing and smiling.
The Spaniard made a stately bow.
“Mistress, I thank you for deigning to accept so small a tribute,” he said in his grand manner. “And may I beg of you two more favours, namely, that you will honour my ship with your presence, and will yourself bless the brig and proclaim thyself its guardian and patron?”
Anny blushed and laughed happily.
“Ay,” she said, “and gladly if you can trust my blessings.”
The Spaniard bowed again.
“What blessings might I trust in if not in yours?” he said gallantly. “I will come myself to bring thee there. Au revoir, fair one.” He picked up his big-brimmed hat and, taking the little brown hand in his soft white one, respectfully raised it to his lips.
Anny smiled shyly as she drew it slowly away and put it behind her back.
Dick looked into her little face, so very little lower than his own.