The skipper put his ideas into practice as soon as they reached London. Between Wapping and Charing Cross he lost the cook three times. Miss Jewell found him twice, and the third time she was so difficult that the skipper had to join in the treasure-hunt himself. The cook listened unmoved to a highly-colored picture of his carelessness from the lips of Miss Jewell, and bestowed a sympathetic glance upon the skipper as she paused for breath.
“It's as bad as taking a child out,” said the latter, with well-affected indignation.
“Worse,” said the girl, tightening her lips.
With a perseverance worthy of a better cause the skipper nudged the cook's arm and tried again. This time he was successful beyond his wildest dreams, and, after ten minutes' frantic search, found that he had lost them both. He wandered up and down for hours, and it was past eleven when he returned to the ship and found the cook waiting for him.
“We thought something 'ad happened to you,” said the cook. “Kate has been in a fine way about it. Five minutes after you lost me she found me, and we've been hunting 'igh and low ever since.”
Miss Jewell expressed her relief the next evening, and, stealing a glance at the face of the skipper, experienced a twinge of something which she took to be remorse. Ignoring the cook's hints as to theatres, she elected to go for a long 'bus ride, and, sitting in front with the skipper, left Mr. Jewell to keep a chaperon's eye on them from three seats behind.
Conversation was for some time disjointed; then the brightness and crowded state of the streets led the skipper to sound his companion as to her avowed taste for a country life.
“I should love it,” said Miss Jewell, with a sigh. “But there's no chance of it; I've got my living to earn.”
“You might—might marry somebody living in the country,” said the skipper, in trembling tones.
Miss Jewell shuddered. “Marry!” she said, scornfully. “Most people do,” said the other.