In the midst of his mirth Mr Durant suddenly turned to Queeker and said—
“By the way, what made you so late of coming to-night, Queeker? I thought you had promised to come to tea.”
“Well, yes, but—a—that is,” stammered Queeker in confusion, “in fact I was obliged to keep an appointment in connection with the—the particular business—”
“The secret mission, in short,” observed Katie, with a peculiar smile.
“Well, secret mission if you choose,” laughed Queeker; “at all events it was that which prevented my getting here sooner. In truth, I did not expect to have managed to come so soon, but we came to the boat—”
Queeker stopped short and blushed violently, feeling that he had slightly, though unintentionally, committed himself.
Fanny looked at him, blushed in sympathy, and giggled.
“Oh, there’s a boat in the secret mission, is there?” cried Stanley; “come, let us make a game of it. Was it an iron boat?”
“No,” replied Queeker, laughing, for he felt that at all events he was safe in answering that question.
“Was it a wooden one?” asked Katie.