“I don’t think so,” said the doctor, accepting with alacrity an offer to go ashore in the launch and change into some decent clothes. “I think I know what it was.”
The second officer leaned forward.
The captain of the Stella pricked up his ears, and the second officer leaned forward with parted lips. Carson, accompanied by the deputy and the solicitor, walked toward the launch.
“What was it?” cried the skipper, anxiously.
“I think that you ate something that disagreed with you,” replied the doctor, grinning meaningly. “Good-by, captain.”
The master of the Stella made no reply, but rising feebly, tottered to the side, and shook his fist at the launch as it headed for the shore. Doctor Carson, who had had a pious upbringing, kissed his hand in return.
A GOLDEN VENTURE
The elders of the Tidger family sat at breakfast—Mrs. Tidger with knees wide apart and the youngest Tidger nestling in the valley of print-dress which lay between, and Mr. Tidger bearing on one moleskin knee a small copy of himself in a red flannel frock and a slipper. The larger Tidger children took the solids of their breakfast up and down the stone-flagged court outside, coming in occasionally to gulp draughts of very weak tea from a gallipot or two which stood on the table, and to wheedle Mr. Tidger out of any small piece of bloater which he felt generous enough to bestow.