He stood eyeing her and wondering in a dazed fashion what she could see in a small, white-faced, slab-sided—
The girl broke in upon his meditations. “How does he cook?” she inquired, smiling.
He was about to tell her, when he suddenly remembered the cook's statement as to his instructor. “He's getting on,” he said, slowly; “he's getting on. Are you his sister?”
The girl smiled and nodded. “Ye—es,” she said, slowly. “Will you tell him I am waiting for him, please?”
The skipper started and drew himself up; then he walked forward and put his head in at the galley.
“Bert,” he said, in a friendly voice, “your sister wants to see you.”
“Who?” inquired Mr. Jewell, in the accents of amazement. He put his head out at the door and nodded, and then, somewhat red in the face with the exercise, drew on his jacket and walked towards her. The skipper followed.
“Thank you,” said the girl, with a pleasant smile.
“You're quite welcome,” said the skipper.
Mr. Jewell stepped ashore and, after a moment of indecision, shook hands with his visitor.