“It couldn’t have been my father,” said Annis slowly. “Somebody has been deceiving you. Good-night. I will come round in the morning; it is getting late.”
“Where are you going?” inquired the mate.
“She’s going to look for a hotel,” said the skipper, answering for her.
“It’s late,” said the mate dubiously, “and this isn’t much of a place for hotels. Why not take her to the woman where her father has been staying? You said she seemed a decent sort.”
“It’s a poor place,” began the other.
“That’ll do,” said Annis decidedly; “if it was good enough for my father it is good enough for me. If it wasn’t my father I may learn something about him. Is it far?”
“Two miles,” said the mate.
“We’d better start at once, then,” said the skipper, moving a step or two by way of example.
“And perhaps you’ll walk down too,” said Annis to the mate.
It went to the mate’s heart to do it, but he was a staunch friend. “No, I think I’ll turn in,” he said, blushing at his rudeness; “I’m tired.”