She greeted him with
enthusiasm.
"Hail, friend," she said. "You, at least, are not jealous if I speak
to your master, wherein you show your exceeding wisdom. Now, since you
and I are persons of leisure, tell me, Joey, what we shall do to make
ourselves useful?"
The dog was accustomed to being spoken to. He awaited developments.
"It seems to me, Joey," she continued, "that Gulielmo Frascuelo is the
one person on board who claims our attention. There is a mystery to be
solved. Bound up in it are my poor Isobel, that beast, Ventana, and a
drunken coal-trimmer. An odd assortment to rub shoulders, don't you
think?"
Joey still reserved his opinion. When the girl went to the forecastle
by climbing down the sailors' ladder to the lower deck, he thought she
was making a mistake; but she held her arms for his spring, and all was
well. She had not previously visited the quarters set apart for the
crew. Puzzled by the large number of small cabins with names of
subordinate officers painted on them, she paused and cried loudly:
"Are you there, Frascuelo? May I speak to you?"
An exclamation of surprise, a somewhat forcible exclamation, too,
answered her from an inner berth.
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