“Poppy!” he cried. “Why, I’ve been waiting up at the Wheelers’ for you for nearly a couple of hours.”
“I must have missed you,” said Miss Tyrell, serenely. “Annoying, isn’t it?”
The master of the Foam said it was, and seemed from his manner to be anxious to do more justice to the subject than that.
“I didn’t dream you’d come down here,” he said, at length.
“No, you never invited me, so I came without,” said the girl softly; “it’s a dear little schooner, and I like it very much. I shall come often.”
A slight shade passed over Captain Flower’s face, but he said nothing.
“You must take me back now,” said Miss Tyrell. “Good-bye, Mr. Fraser.”
She held out her hand to the mate, and giving a friendly pressure, left the cabin, followed by Flower.
The mate let them get clear of the ship, and then, clambering on to the jetty, watched them off the wharf, and, plunging his hands into his pockets, whistled softly.
“Poppy Tyrell,” he said to himself, slowly. “Poppy Tyrell! I wonder why the skipper has never mentioned her. I wonder why she took his arm. I wonder whether she knows that he’s engaged to be married.”