"Well," said the father, thoughtfully, "I don't know, and can't give advice. I should have thought that when a man was a good sailor and held your position he ought to stick to it. A rolling stone gathers no moss."
"Yes," I answered, "but I am tired of the sea."
"So am I," said Fanny, "and I don't blame you, though you ought to go with careless captains just on purpose to save people's lives, you know, Mr. Ticehurst; for you saved ours, and I think some of us might thank you better than by sitting like a dry stick without saying a word."
With this she dug at Elsie with her elbow, smiling sweetly all the time.
"Yes," said Elsie, "and there is Mr. Harmer now in the Vancouver. Perhaps she will be wrecked."
This was the first word she had spoken since I had entered the carriage, and I recognized by its spite that Elsie was a woman not above having a little revenge. For poor Fanny, who had flirted quite a little with Harmer, said no more.
They put down at their hotel, and I went inside with them.
"Well," said Fleming, "I suppose we shan't see you again, unless you do as Fanny says, and turn up in our new country. If you do, be sure we shall welcome you. And I wish you well, my boy."
I shook hands with them again, and turned away; and as I did so, I noticed some of their boxes marked, "Per SS. Mexico." Fanny saw me looking, and whispered quickly, as she passed me, "Tom Ticehurst, go to Mexico!" and vanished, while Elsie stood in the gaslight for a moment as if in indecision. But she turned away.