“I was carrying you off to the doctor,” said the boatswain. “How was I to know you was only shamming?”
“Shamming?” said Chrissie, in tones of incredulous horror. “I was asleep. I often go to sleep in the afternoon.”
The boatswain made no reply, except to grin with great intelligence as he followed his charge upstairs again. He grinned at intervals until the return of Susan and Miss Polson, who, trying to look unconcerned, came in later on, both apparently suffering from temper, Susan especially. Amid the sympathetic interruptions of these listeners Chrissie recounted her experiences, while the boatswain, despite his better sense, felt like the greatest scoundrel unhung, a feeling which was fostered by the remarks of Susan and the chilling regards of Miss Poison.
“I shall inform the captain,” said Miss Polson, bridling. “It’s my duty.”
“Oh, I shall tell him,” said Chrissie. “I shall tell him the moment he comes in at the door.”
“So shall I,” said Susan; “the idea of taking such liberties!”
Having fired this broadside, the trio watched the enemy narrowly and anxiously.
“If I’ve done anything wrong, ladies,” said the unhappy boatswain, “I am sorry for it. I can’t say anything fairer than that, and I’ll tell the cap’n myself exactly how I came to do it when he comes in.”
“Pah! tell-tale!” said Susan.
“Of course, if you are here to fetch and carry,” said Miss Polson, with withering emphasis.