He dived into his cabin, and, after a hasty search, brought out some garments which he placed on the table before his commander.
“I wouldn’t wear ’em, no, not to drown myself in,” declared Evans after a brief glance; “they ain’t even decent.”
“So much the better,” said the mate; “it’ll be more of a contrast with me.”
After a slight contest the skipper gave way, and the mate, after an elaborate toilette, went on deck and began to make himself agreeable, while his chief skulked below trying to muster up courage to put in an appearance.
“Where’s the captain?” inquired Miss Cooper, after his absence had been so prolonged as to become noticeable.
“He’s below, dressin’, I b’leeve,” replied the mate simply.
Miss Cooper, glancing at his attire, smiled softly to herself, and prepared for something startling, and she got it; for a more forlorn, sulky-looking object than the skipper, when he did appear, had never been seen on the deck of the Falcon, and his London betrothed glanced at him hot with shame and indignation.
“Whatever have you got those things on for?” she whispered.
“Work, my dear—work,” replied the skipper.
“Well, mind you don’t lose any of the pieces,” said the dear suavely; “you mightn’t be able to match that cloth.”