Mr. Warburton looked up, smoothed his brow, and began to ask, "What are you going to do--?" But in the midst of his question he thought better of it, acknowledging its uselessness; and, reaching into a little press by his side, he took down a key and handed it to Anna without comment. Anna said only, "Thank you, father." For we should be polite to our parents when they do as we wish them.
She stood a moment looking back at the bowed figure, which, upon her departure, had resumed the perplexed frown as though it had been a mask. Then she walked briskly down to the boathouse.
Upon the eastern side of Suliscanna there is a beach. It is a rough beach, but landing is just possible. There are cunning little spits of sand in the angles of the stone reaches, and by good steering between the boulders it is just possible to make boat's-way ashore.
"Row!" said Anna, after they had pushed the boat off, and began to feel the hoist of the swell. "I will steer."
Simeon obediently took the oars and fell to it. So close in did Anna steer to one point, that, raising her hand, she pulled a few heads of pale sea-pink from a dry cleft as they drew past into the open water and began to climb green and hissing mountains.
"Listen!" she said. "I have been reading in a book of my father's about this place, and there was a strange great bird once on Suliscanna. It has been lost for years, so the book says; and if we could get it, it would be worth a hundred pounds. We are going to seek it."
"That is nonsense," said Simeon, "for you can get a goose here for sixpence, and there is no bird so big that it would be worth the half of a hundred pounds."
"Goose yourself, boy," said Anna tauntingly. "I did not mean to eat, great stupid thing!"
"What did you mean, then?" returned Simeon.
"You island boy, I mean to put in wise folks' museums--where they put all sorts of strange things. I have seen one in London."
"Seen a bird worth a hundred pounds?" Simeon was not taking Anna's statements on trust any more.
"No, silly--not the bird, but the museum."
"Um--you can tell that to Donald; I know better than to believe."
"Ah, but this is true," said Anna, without anger at the aspersion on her habitual truthfulness. "I tell you it is true. You would not believe about the machine-boat that runs by steam, with the smoke coming from it like the spout of our kettle, till I showed you the picture of it in father's book."