She had suddenly remembered a promise to sketch Capt. Warren's
dog holding the gaff, a feat of which both Pal and his master were
justifiably proud. Indeed, so long had the arrangement been made and so
entirely had it been neglected, that no one was more surprised than the
Captain himself at her unexpected appearance.
"But Pal and me ought to be at the Tuna Club in fifteen minutes, to take
a party o' members out fishin'," he demurred. "You can't paint Pal in no
quarter of an hour!"
"I'm sorry to have had to put it off so long," replied Miss Hastings
crisply, "but I'm planning to go home in a few days now, - this
afternoon probably. It's the only chance I shall have." And she prepared
to make good the belated promise with such determination that, after a
wistful glance or two across the slapping white caps, the old skipper
meekly succumbed.
It was here Blair found her an hour or so later. Unceremoniously he
placed himself in front of her, his hands in his pockets, and gave vent
to a low whistle.
"Well, of all the - !"
"Oh, is it you, Mr. Blair?" she inquired in cool, sweet tones. "I
thought most probably you'd gone! Didn't you say yesterday you intended
to as soon as you'd seen the cavern?" Then, after a pause during which
Blair said nothing, "I've been getting dreadfully behind with my own
work, so I thought, if you didn't mind, I'd try to catch up a little
this morning.
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