“What!” said the mate, stuttering, “put his—put his arm—round—your waist—like”—
His courage suddenly forsook him.
“Like what?” inquired the girl, with superb innocence.
“Like that,” said the mate manfully.
“That’ll do,” said Miss Cringle softly, “that’ll do. You’re as bad as he is, only the worst of it is there is nobody here to prevent you.”
IN BORROWED PLUMES
The master of the Sarah Jane had been missing for two days, and all on board, with the exception of the boy, whom nobody troubled about, were full of joy at the circumstance. Twice before had the skipper, whose habits might, perhaps, be best described as irregular, missed his ship, and word had gone forth that the third time would be the last. His berth was a good one, and the mate wanted it in place of his own, which was wanted by Ted Jones, A. B.
“Two hours more,” said the mate anxiously to the men, as they stood leaning against the side, “and I take the ship out.”
“Under two hours’ll do it,” said Ted, peering over the side and watching the water as it slowly rose over the mud. “What’s got the old man, I wonder?”
“I don’t know, and I don’t care,” said the mate. “You chaps stand by me and it’ll be good for all of us. Mr. Pearson said distinct the last time that if the skipper ever missed his ship again it would be his last trip in her, and he told me afore the old man that I wasn’t to wait two minutes at any time, but to bring her out right away.”