Most young girls with whom he had become acquainted had bored him by their insipidity or disgusted him by their precocity; but from this one there emanated a kind of charm which rested while it attracted him. It was pleasant to lean back and look at and listen to her; to watch the soft tendrils of dark hair stirred by the wind, to see the frank smile light up the gray eyes and curve the sweet red lips; to listen to the musical voice, the low brief laugh, which was so distinct from the ordinary girl's giggle or forced and affected gayety. The fish were biting, and soon a pile of silver lay wet and glittering in the bottom of the boat. "Haven't you got enough?" asked Vernon, with your sportsman's dislike of "pot hunting." "For ourselves? Oh, yes; but some of the old people of the Mills like mackerel," replied Nell, "and they'll be waiting on the jetty for the _Annie Laurie's_ return. Are you getting tired?" she asked, for the first time directing her attention to him. "I quite forgot you were an invalid." "Go on forgetting it, please," he said. "In fact, the invalid business is played out. I'm far too hungry to keep up the character." She laughed. "So am I." She raised herself on her elbow and looked toward the shore. "If you'll take her to that cove just opposite us, we'll have some lunch. You can eat fish, I hope? It was awfully stupid of me not to remember----" "I can eat anything," he said quickly. "I was just going to propose that we should cast lots, in cannibalistic fashion, to decide who should lunch on the other." She laughed, and pulled in her line. "That's a beauty for the last. Do you know how to cook mackerel?" "No; but I can learn." "Very well, then; you'll find a spirit lamp and stove in that locker under the tiller. Yes, that's it. And there ought to be some bread and butter, and some coffee. Milk, as we don't carry a cow, we shall have to do without. We shall be in smooth water presently, and then we can lunch." He sailed the boat into a sheltered cove, and, rather awkwardly, with his one hand, extracted the cooking utensils from the locker. Nell lowered the sail, dropped the anchor, and came aft. "I'm afraid I shall have to cook," she said. "Dick generally does it, but you've only one hand. There's one fish;" as she cut it open skillfully. "How many can you eat?" "Two--three dozen," he said gravely. She laughed, and placed three of the silver mackerel in the frying pan. "Now don't, please, don't say that you haven't a match!" she said, half aghast with dread. He took his silver match box from his pocket, and was on the point of handing it to her. Then he remembered the coronet engraved on it, and holding it against his side, managed to strike a light and ignite the spirit. "Of course, you have to pretend that you don't mind the smell of cooking fish; but it really isn't so bad when one is hungry," she said, as the pan began to hiss and the fish to brown.