"Who cares?" says Auntie, shruggin' her shoulders.
Say, I wasn't so much surprised at Mr. Ellins. He's spent most of his life slippin' things over on the government. Auntie, though! A steady, solemn old girl with her pedigree printed in the Social Register. You wouldn't have thought it of her.
"Some plunger, Auntie, eh?" says I to Vee. "She don't seem to care what happens."
"I never knew she could be so reckless," says Vee. "Getting us chased by a warship! Isn't that rather dangerous, Torchy?"
"I shouldn't call it the mildest outdoor sport there was," says I.
"And the casual way she talks of our being shot at—as if they'd fire tennis balls!" goes on Vee.
"I didn't care for that part of the conversation myself," says I. "I'm no hero, like Rupert. If there's any shootin' takes place, I'm goin' to get nervous. I feel it comin' on."
"You don't think Auntie and Mr. Ellins would let it go that far, do you?" asks Vee.
"It would be just like Auntie to fire back," says I. "What's a navy more or less to her, when she gets her jaw set?"
"I—I wish I hadn't come on this old yacht," says Vee.