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.

"There's salt and pepper somewhere," she remarked. "You put them on
while the fish is cooking; it is half the battle, as Dick says. They're
in the back of the locker, I think. If you'll move just a little----"

He screwed himself into as small a compass as possible, and she dived
into the locker and got out a couple of tin boxes.

"And here's the bread--rather stale, I'm afraid--and some biscuits. The