When she returned, the sail-cloth bundle was lying on the table, and Hal and Cip de Musset were sitting together by the fire, the latter drinking hot rum.
“Good-morrow, fair one,” grinned the visitor as he looked up, “there’s somewhat on the table for thee.”
His clothes proclaimed him a sailor, and his manners were free and easy.
“For me?” Anny looked first at the bundle and then over at Hal who was watching her covertly.
“And—er—and who will it be sent from, Master de Musset?” she said at last.
Cip de Musset laughed.
“Open it, lassie,” he said, “open it and see.”
Anny, nothing loath, pulled at the knots, and pushed back the sail-cloth; underneath was a white linen covering.
Hal rose to his feet and in spite of himself craned his neck to see.
The other man got up and stood beside the girl, looking down at the bundle. The arrival of a parcel was an unusual occurrence at the Ship.