“Well, I wouldn't give up hope quite yet,” said Chris, very much amused; “you see, I'm not exactly real English, I've been in the States so long;” and when Marie-Celeste came to think of it, there was some comfort in that.
Meantime, a number of passengers had come on to the decks of both cabins, and a few moments later the little buglers appeared simultaneously on both sides of the saloon, and the call for breakfast rang out on the still sea air.
“There's something English for you,” said Chris.
“What do you mean?” with puzzled frown.
“Why, that's the English mess call,
'Officers' wives eat puddings and pies,
Soldiers' wives eat skilly'
—those are the words that go to it.”
“Why, so they do!” for the little buglers were obligingly repeating their strain, and Marie-Celeste discovered for herself that they fitted the notes exactly.
“What's 'skilly?'” she asked presently, as Chris expected she would.