"You seem to find it very amusing to see men hurt, Miss MacAllister," he said almost fiercely.
"I did not know that you were hurt, Dr. Sinclair, or I should not have laughed. I am so sorry."
"I'm not hurt," said the young man even more ferociously than before; "but this man is injured, seriously injured, I'm afraid. He's still unconscious."
"Oh, but I was not laughing at him. I was laughing at you. You would have laughed yourself if you could have seen the figure you cut going across the deck. Really, Dr. Sinclair, you would. I simply could not help it."
She looked up in his face with such a childlike innocence of expression, such confidence in the validity of the excuse, that even Dr. MacKay's somewhat stern face relaxed, and he turned away to hide a smile. As for Dr. Sinclair, he was helpless. He could not remain angry under the circumstances. His good-humoured laugh broke out as he replied:
"We must accept your confession, believe in your penitence, and grant you absolution."
He and MacKay went below with the injured Chinese, but in a few minutes reappeared on deck.
"I have not seen your father to-day, Miss MacAllister," said Dr. MacKay.
"He is in his stateroom with mother. She is very ill and he will not leave her."
"I must congratulate you on being so good a sailor. You do not show a symptom of sea-sickness. That is quite remarkable in such a storm as this."