The Tyro coughed gently.
Little Miss Grouch scowled.
The Tyro lapsed to the deck and curled his legs under him.
Little Miss Grouch turned upon him a baleful eye. But her glance wavered: at least, it twinkled. Her little jaw was set, it is true. At the corner of her mouth, however, dimpled a suspicious and delicious quiver. Perhaps the faintest hint of it crept into her voice to mollify the rigor of the tone in which she announced:
"I came here to be alone."
"We are," said the Tyro. "At last!" he added with placid satisfaction.
"Well, really!" For the moment it was all that came to her, as offset to this superb impudence. "Go away, at once," she commanded presently.
"I can't."
"Why not?"
"I'm lame," he said plaintively. "Pity the poor cripple."