“Why didn’t you come up and stand by me?” inquired the girl hotly.
The mate hung his head.
“Oh,” said the girl, and her tones were those of acute disappointment, “you’re afraid.”
“I’m not,” said the mate scornfully.
“Why didn’t you come up, then, instead of skulking down here?” inquired the girl.
The mate scratched the back of his neck and smiled, but weakly. “Well, I—I thought”—he began, and stopped.
“You thought”—prompted Miss Cringle coldly.
“I thought a little fright would do you good,” said the mate, speaking quickly, “and that it would make you appreciate me a little more when I did come.”
“Ahoy! Maggie! Maggie!” came the voice of the graceless varlet who was steering.
“I’ll Maggie him,” said the mate, grinding his teeth, “Why, what the—why you’re crying.”