"And can you bring," Eve asked, "your yeogirl? I invite her, and ask you to deliver the invitation."
He laughed suddenly. "My yeogirl—did you hear she was a joke? She is a real girl, but I don't know her, and I couldn't bring her over here,—or anywhere. No, I'm afraid you will have to get somebody else to deliver the invitation. How would Mr. Wales do?—or Bobby?"
"Jimmy has a wife, my cousin."
"Yes, I know. But Bobby—he hasn't any."
"Poor Bobby would be in greater trouble than ever. Besides, he wouldn't do it. Bobby has developed a nasty temper lately. I wanted the yeogirl for you, and if you don't want her—I am sorry Olivia has gone."
"Olivia would never do for me," he said, shaking his head. "I guess I shall have to devote myself to the clams—or to Elizabeth."
"You might do worse, young man," I said severely.
"I might," he assented. "In fact I have done worse."
I did not know whether he referred to the clams or to Elizabeth; but it was true in either case. And he said nothing more, and thereupon a silence fell, which is no misfortune and no embarrassment when the people are suited to it. I had been seeing Pukkie's yacht for some time, and she had just disappeared behind Old Goodwin's pier. And she had three people in her, when I supposed she carried only Elizabeth and Pukkie. I mentioned it to Eve, who was as much surprised as I; and we watched the pier and the shore.