The mate laid back his head and laughed with boyish glee at the rueful look which came over his friend's countenance, at the mere memory of the stinging rebuff he had suffered.
"Do not imagine that your lady friend is always in the humour she showed to-day, doctor. She is pretty sick, and for the first time, too. She told me before what a good sailor she was. Never missed a meal at sea! Never had an inclination to turn over!"
"Did she say that, McLeod? That she was a 'good sailor'?"
"Yes."
"The vixen! And then you heard the way she has just soaked it to me for being a 'good sailor.'"
McLeod shook with laughter.
"Don't be too hard on her, doctor. She has got it good and plenty this time, and she's disgusted with herself, disgusted with the sea, the boat, and everything and everybody connected with them."
"She doesn't hesitate to express her disgust," replied the doctor. "I blundered upon her at an unlucky moment and received the full contents of the vials of her wrath."
"Never mind; she will soon get over this. Then she will be quite angelic."
"I guess she got some Chinese chow at Amoy, which didn't agree with her."