back and forth, back and forth, behind the boat, with ominous patience.
"If we're shipwrecked, we ought to be doing something," said the bride suddenly, in the tone of one announcing the concluding clause of a syllogism.
"That's right," acquiesced the Maestro; "we ought to do something."
"We should empanel a jury," said the bride briskly.
"Empanel a jury," repeated the Maestro, somewhat dazed.
"Oh," said the bride, blushing, "I mean a jury-rudder. We should empanel a jury-rudder."
"You mean rig up a jury-rudder," exclaimed the Maestro, a flashing light of understanding in his eyes; "rig is the more nautical term."
"Oh, yes," cried the bride delightedly; "that's it; we must rig up a jury-rudder!"
"Well," said the Maestro, after a moment's thought; "jury-rudders, you know, are rigged up when the real rudder has been carried away. But we never had a real rudder; therefore we can't very well have a jury one."
"Oh," said the bride, disappointed.
She was silent a moment; then inspiration again flamed up.
"We should signal a ship," she said decidedly.
