The mate gazed calmly out to sea.
"Jack!" said the girl again, in a lower whisper than before.
The mate went hot all over, and at once descended. He found Miss Alsen,
her eyes sparkling, with the mustard-pot in her left hand and the spoon
in her right, executing a war-dance in front of the second portrait.
"Don't do it," said the mate, in alarm.
"Why not?" she inquired, going within an inch of it.
"He'll think it's me," said the mate.
"That's why I called you down here," said she; "you don't think I wanted
you, do you?"
"You put that spoon down," said the mate, who was by no means desirous
of another interview with the skipper.
"Shan't!" said Miss Alsen.
The mate sprang at her, but she dodged round the table. He leaned over,
and, catching her by the left arm, drew her towards him; then, with her
flushed, laughing face close to his, he forgot everything else, and
kissed her.
"Oh!" said Hetty indignantly.
"Will you give it to me now?" said the mate, trembling at his boldness.
"Take it," said she. She leaned across the table, and, as the mate
advanced, dabbed viciously at him with the spoon. Then she suddenly
dropped both articles on the table and moved away, as the mate, startled
by a footstep at the door, turned a flushed visage, ornamented with
three streaks of mustard, on to the dumbfounded skipper.
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