“I’ll try to, Miss Pet, since you wish it,” said poor Mr. Toosypegs, with tears in his eyes; “but it’s blamed hard. I wish to gracious I had never been born—I just do! I don’t see where is the good of it at all.”
“Oh, now, Orlando, you mustn’t feel bad about it, because it won’t amount to anything,” said Pet, in a consoling tone; “don’t let us talk any more about it. Guess what I heard last night over at Judestown.”
“I’m sure I don’t know, Miss Pet,” said Mr. Toosypegs, giving his eyes and nose a vigorous wiping with his handkerchief.
“Well, then, that the gang of smugglers who have been for so long a time suspected of having a rendezvous around the coast somewhere, have been seen at last. Two or three of them were observed pulling off in a boat, the other night, and going on board a dark, suspicious-looking schooner, anchored down the bay. They are known to have a hiding-place somewhere around here, but the good folks of Judestown can’t discover it, and consequently are in a state of mind at having such desperadoes near them. I am going to hunt all over the shore far and near myself, this very day, and see if my eyes are not sharper than those of the Judestown officials. Oh, I would love, of all things, to discover their hiding-place; perhaps my smartness wouldn’t astonish the natives slightly.”
“But, good gracious, Miss Pet! if they get hold of you,” said Mr. Toosypegs, his blood running chill with horror at the very idea; “why, it would be awful.”
“If they did,” said Pet, “they would find, as others have done, to their cost, before now, that they had caught a Tartar; a snap-dragon; a pepper-pod; an angel in petticoats! Oh, they’d have their hands full, in every sense of the word. I’m bound to go on my exploring expedition this afternoon, wind and weather permitting, anyway, and see what will be the result. Where are you going, may I ask?”
“To Dismal Hollow, or—no, I’ve got to go to the White Squall, first.”
“Very well; I won’t detain you, then. I’m off to Judestown—good-by; remember me to uncle Harry.”
And giving her jaunty, plumed hat another gallant touch, Firefly dashed off, leaving Mr. Toosypegs gazing dejectedly after her until the last flutter of her dark riding-habit vanished amid the trees; and then he slowly and mournfully turned his solemn-faced nag in the direction of the White Squall, to tell the admiral the unsatisfactory result of his proposal.