The Argosy — page 156: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

144 By the Sad Sea Waves. not hear from me. Five minutes later we stand on the edge of the water. Ottalie points to a small rowing boat. ‘‘See,” she says, “that boat is what I’ve been trying to get ever since we came here. We'll borrow it for a little while, Deb.” “ Borrow it?” “Just to sit in,” she says, jumping in. ‘‘Oh, it is cool and pleasant sitting here! Come in, Deb.” I don’t know why I always obey her; she knows that she tyrannises over me. In I get. “The least little push—so—Deb, will run it off into the water.” The boldness of the assertion locks my lips, and almost before I understand the situation we are skimming away from shore. People have said Ottalie rows well; I know the fact does not comfort me in the least. I close my eyes, and cling to the boat-side. Ottalie laughs, and begins to sing ; so I am left in peace to indulge my fears, I always was a coward on the water. “ Won't you put back, Ottalie? ” But Ottalie only smiles, and sings the louder. Presently, I find my- self almost a mile out. Z “Four o'clock !” I say, drawing out my watch. “Is it?” Ottalie asks, lazily. ‘‘I know what an inquiring mind you have, Deborah, and I am taking you to explore the Isle of Shoals!” Her eyes flash laughter as I expostulate : “Jt is dinner-time. At least, it will be by the time we get back.” ‘““ My dear Deborah,” she says, coolly, backing water, ‘I am not a well-regulated individual like you; my appetite does not depend on the clock!” And, as she speaks, she runs the boat into land. “ Now let us explore,” she says, preparing to get out. “ And let the boat drift off?” I ask, tartly. “No; don’t come out; stay where you are,” shouts out a strange masculine voice from the shore. We both start. ‘“« Push off,” I whisper, nervously. But before Ottalie, with all her dexterity, can obey, a gentleman, with fishing-basket ‘and tackle, comes rushing down, and jumps in. “My girl,” he says to Ottalie, as he takes the seat facing her, “the next time Michael sends you to bring a hungry man back to shore and dinner, please don’t make a pleasure excursion of it! Row quickly now, and make up for lost time.” Ottalie’s back is towards me, but just as I open my lips to answer, she turns to me a very red face, and makes me a sign to be quiet. The gentleman lights his cigar, and leans back, fixing his eyes on Ottalie. “By Jove!” he ejaculates presently, “you are pretty, and no mistake.” Oc: ale comicbooks.com