“But in the meantime–” began Miss Leslie.
“In the meantime we’re like to miss a chance or two of being picked up, just because we’ve failed to stick out a signal that’d catch the eye twice as far off as any other color than scarlet. Do you suppose I worked my way up from axeman to engineer, and didn’t learn anything about flags?”
“But it is all really too absurd! I do not know the first thing about sewing, and I have neither thread nor needle.”
“It’s up to you, though, if you want to help. My sisters sewed mighty soon after they learned to toddle. ’Bout time you learned– There, now; I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. You’ve made a fair stagger at cooking, and I bet you win out on the dressmaking. For needle you can use one of these long slim thorns–poke a hole, and then slip the thread through, like a shoemaker.”
“Ah, yes; but the thread?” put in Winthrope.
“The cocoanut fibre would hardly do,” said Miss Leslie, forgetting to dry her eyes.
“No. We could get fairly good fibres out of the palm leaves; but catgut will be a whole lot better. I’ll slit up a lot for you, fine enough to sew with. And now, let’s get down to tacks. No offence–but did either of you ever learn to do anything useful in all your blessed little lives?”
“Why, Mr. Blake, of course I–”
“Of course what?” demanded Blake, as Miss Leslie hesitated. “We know all about your cooking and sewing. What else?”
“I–I see what you meant. I fear that nothing of what I learned would be of service now.”