“Of course not,” said Fraser, and, giving way, ascended the stairs before him. Mr. Wheeler, junior, after a moment’s hesitation, turned back and, muttering threats under his breath, returned to the parlour.
Miss Tyrell, who was sitting by the window reading, rose upon the mate’s entrance, and, observing that he was alone, evinced a little surprise as she shook hands with him. It was the one thing necessary to complete his discomfiture, and he stood before her in a state of guilty confusion.
“Cap’n Flower couldn’t come,” he stammered.
The girl said nothing, but with her dark eyes fixed upon his flushed face waited for him to continue.
“It’s his misfortune that he couldn’t come,” continued Fraser, jerkily.
“Business, I suppose?” said the girl, after another wait. “Won’t you sit down?”
“Bad business,” replied Fraser. He sat down, and fancied he saw the way clear before him.
“You’ve left him on the Foam, I suppose?” said Poppy, seeing that she was expected to speak.
“No; farther back than that,” was the response.
“Seabridge?” queried the girl, with an air of indifference.