"That's foolish," said my mother. And I thought it was myself, although I felt my rejoinder had a meaning I couldn't just explain.
We talked till the sun was pouring in through the eastern window; yet we determined little else than this—that mother thought I should and I was almost sure I couldn't.
I think we all felt better in the morning. Mother and I certainly did; even Europe and a yacht didn't impress me so formidably as in the ghostly dawn. We had shad for breakfast, fresh from its briny home; and if shad be skillfully cooked it can colour all the succeeding day. Wherefore, when we were all gathered on the porch in the glorious sunshine mother immediately became communicative. She had previously advised me that it would be better to say nothing to Uncle Henry or Aunt Agnes about the subject that engrossed us both; this of itself was almost a guarantee to me that mother would tell it all, for she generally took this means of reserving that luxury to herself. So it wasn't very long till she had told them all about it. Before she was through, the private yacht had grown to dimensions of a man-of-war fitted up in oriental splendour—and I had been all but presented to half the crowned heads in Europe.
"And I've been telling Helen how foolish she is," she concluded earnestly, looking to my aunt and uncle for confirmation of her view. "It isn't every girl gets a chance of a honeymoon on a yacht, is it, Henry?" nodding towards me over her shoulder.
But uncle didn't seem as agitated as he should have been. "Oh, I don't know," he replied drawlingly, "it depends on your position on the yacht. I suppose there'll be women aboard, cooks and such like, that nobody'd envy very much."
"Position!" my mother ejaculated vigorously; "I should think the wife of the owner would have position enough for anybody."
"Yes—if she owns him," replied my uncle slowly.
"Owns what?" echoed my mother. "What do you mean, Henry?"
"I mean if she owns him," repeated uncle cheerfully; "if she loves him enough, you know—and if he does the same. Sooner be on an old raft—if they really own each other," uncle went on quite seriously, "than the finest ship in the world—if they don't."
"You're great on love," said mother; "and that's all right for a beginning—but there are other things besides. I think love needs a good solid foundation to build on," as she nodded emphatically towards my uncle.