The weather was exceptionally fine, and hardly any one was seasick. The Reverend Mr. Blinderpool was often on deck, and he made it a point to cultivate the acquaintance of Tom and his friends. In spite of the fact that he said he had traveled very little, he seemed to know much about hidden corners of the world, but always, as on an occasion when he had accidently let slip some remark that showed he had been in far-off China or Asia, he would suddenly change the conversation when it verged to travel.
"There's something queer about that minister," said Ned after one of these occasions, "but I can't decide what it is."
"Nonsense!" exclaimed Tom, who rather liked the man.
"No nonsense about it. Why should a minister take a trip like this when he isn't sick, and when he isn't going to establish a mission in South America? There's something queer about it, for, by his own words he just took this voyage as a whim."
"Oh, you're too fussy," declared Tom; and for the time the subject was dropped.
They ran into a storm when about ten days out, and for a while they had a rough time of it, and then the weather cleared again.
It was one evening, after the formal dinner,
