“I suppose so.” Pooke spoke languidly, as if going to sleep.
“But that extra half-hour, or something like it, throws them out and makes them shift. Why is it?”
“How can I say? Accident.”
“It cannot be accident, for people can calculate and put in the almanacks when the tides are to be.”
“I suppose so.”
“And then--why are some tides much bigger than others? We are having high tides now.”
Pooke half rose, seated himself again, and said in a tone of desperation, “Look here, Kitty! I ain’t going to be catechised. Rather than that, I’ll jump into the mud and smother. It is bad enough having to sit here in the wind half the night, without having one’s head split with thinking to answer questions. If we are to talk, let it be about something sensible. Shall you be at sister Sue’s wedding?”[wedding?”]
“I do not know. That depends on whether aunt will let me go.”
“I want you to see and worship me in my new suit.”
“I may see--I shan’t worship you.”