Manners and customs -- Fiction; Short stories, American
"But I don't want you to, Cassie," he said. "You're talking like a
baby. What's the good of waiting when I am never coming back?"
"You say that now," she exclaimed, "but my words will come back to
you in Injya when you grow tired of her ladyship's coldness and
disdain; and I'm silly enough to think you'll find them a comfort
to you out there, with nothing to do but to think and think, and
be miserable."
VI
The next day he found Cassie in a more cheerful humour and excited
about the dance. The house was all upset and she was busy with a
dozen of her girl friends in decorating the hall and drawing-room,
taking up the carpets, arranging for the supper and the
cloakrooms, and immersed generally in the thousand and one tasks
that fall on a hostess-to-be. Frank put himself at her orders and
spent the better part of the afternoon in running errands and
tacking up flags and branches; and after an hilarious tea, in the
midst of all the litter and confusion, he went back to the ship
somewhat after five o'clock. As he was pulled out in a shore boat
he was surprised to pass a couple of coal lighters coming from the
Minnehaha, and to see her winches busily hoisting in stores from a
large launch alongside. He ran up the ladder, and seeing the
captain asked him what was up.
"Sailing orders, Chief," said Captain Landry, enjoying his
amazement. "We'll be off the ground in half an hour, eastward
bound!" "But I wasn't told anything," cried Frank. "I never got
any orders."
"The little lady said you wasn't to be disturbed," said the
captain, "and she took it on herself to order your staff to go
ahead. I guess you'll find a pretty good head of steam already!"
Frank ran to the side and called back his boat, giving the man
five shillings to take a note at once to Cassie. He had no time
for more than a few lines, but he could not go to sea without at
least one word of farewell. They were cutting the anchor and were
already under steerage way when Cassie came off herself in a
launch and passed up a letter directed to the chief engineer. It
reached him in the engine-room, where he, not knowing that she was
but a few feet distant, was spared the sight of her pale and
despairing face.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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