The Moonless Night by Joan Smith

means the host of the meal. The Boltwoods and Benson hastened to the door while he settled the account, but noticed over their shoulders that he went back to speak to Madame, bowing low over her hand, joking, flirting outrageously, and taking several minutes to do it.
    “Another example of poor taste on Sanford’s part,” Benson said, in a condemning way.
    “Aunt Biddy would be furious to know what he is up to,” Marie said, to David, but with no effort to conceal her speech from Mr. Benson.
    “The outside of enough to be offering hospitality on the part of another and when it was pretty clear you were both against it. I would say we were all against it, but it is no affair of mine.”
    He had made clear all the same that he considered their discomfort his own affair, and won a smile from both his companions. At length Sanford joined them, and began immediately exhorting the family to charity on Madame’s behalf.
    “You had better speak to my father about it,” David said with a stiff face. He was doubly chagrined by the affair. In his secret heart, he would have liked very well to ask her.
    “I shall certainly do so the moment we reach the Hall,” Sanford answered, then offered his arm, so lately clutched at by Madame, to Marie. She looked at it as though it were a dead rat before turning pointedly to accept Mr. Benson’s escort. There was only one other thing to be done before leaving the town. David wished to obtain a copy of the booklet that explained the flag language used by the navy. As it was no secret document, he got ahold of it at the ships’ chandler shop, and stuck it into his pocket for the ride home.
    The wind continued rising as they rode along to Bolt Hall, a good stiff breeze off the ocean, that sent David’s curled beaver flying off his head, and caused Marie’s skirts to billow in a bothersome way. These were only minor irritations; the real disappointment in it was that the trip out to see Boney must be postponed to a better day.
    Biddy told them with unsuppressed glee that they had waited too long to go, and it couldn’t be done today.
    “It’s only a gentle breeze. The Fury could take it,” Sanford objected, looking to the men for agreement, and finding none.
    “I doubt very much my stomach could take it,” Benson admitted. “I am no sailor, I fear.”
    “You must be, Mr. Boltwood, as you live on the coast,” Sanford continued, undaunted as usual by one negative.
    Much as he disliked to admit to Sanford any inferiority in anything, David knew his father would skin him alive to be taking Fury out into the teeth of a gale. Furthermore, his major reason for going was to help Benson along, so he replied, “The keel is not dry yet.”
    “Your father said she could be launched today,” Sanford reminded him.
    “We’ll wait for tomorrow, so that Mr. Benson can go with us,” David replied firmly.
    Sanford expressed his displeasure by lowering his brows and staring at them. In the saloon, he sat drumming his fingers on his knee in a way to set everyone’s teeth on edge. He soon arose, saying, “I’m for a jog about the countryside. Is anyone coming with me?”
    David looked to Benson, who had taken up a magazine to thumb idly through it, with no apparent intention of doing anything else, so of course David too had to remain at home.
    He was eager to get searching for the chest of gold, eager to study the flag language, even more eager to reach a first-name basis with the spy, and start sharing secrets.
    Marie wished to join in the search too, and looked away so that she might be excepted from Sanford’s canvas of companions. “Will you be kind enough to come with me, Miss Boltwood?” he asked her averted cheek. She turned on him a face full of reproach, approaching hatred. He looked startled to have engendered so much hostility. She waited a moment before answering, hoping Biddy would rescue her and forbid her going out, but Biddy, influenced possibly by the title, said only,