"No, Puk," said Bobby, "you're not. I think your father should apologize."
"I apologize, Pukkie," I said hastily, for I would not wound my son. "You are not. And, Bobby, can't you find any? Is that why you are out of sorts?"
"Find any what?" asked Bobby, puzzled. "Any toad-grunters? I hope not. Who wants to find 'em? You speak in riddles, Adam."
"It was submarines I meant."
Bobby smiled seraphically. "Your traps, Adam, are no good. But I'm going to find some submarines pretty soon. Pret—ty soon, you mark my words."
"Words marked. But what do you mean?"
"What I say. Now, Puk, what do you say to a walk about the deck? Or would you rather follow your captain?"
And Bobby strolled off with Pukkie. They went up forward, where the Arcadia was shouldering aside the great seas. We had the wind on the quarter, and there was no longer the sound of spray like rolling musketry. And presently Elizabeth looked out of the companionway, and seeing me alone, she came and sat in the chair next to mine, and she put out her hand.
"Adam," she said with a pretty flush.
"Elizabeth," I answered, with no flush, but I watched hers flaming.