Page:Barbour--Joan of the ilsand.djvu/148

136 "Well?" he said in a voice that he hardly recognized.

Joan glanced up at him with a secret smile, and then lowered her eyes as a faint flush mounted to her smooth cheeks.

"I, too, was counting my chickens," she replied lightly and yet shyly. And then: "Come," she continued, rising. "The Kestrel is nearly at her moorings, and Chester will be grumbling if his tea isn't ready in another five minutes."