Kitabı oku: «Marjorie's New Friend», sayfa 7

"I think you might entertain me," she said; "my head aches awfully."

"Shall I read to you?" asked Midget. She had had little experience with headaches, and didn't quite know what to do for them.

"Yes, read a fairy story."

So Midget good-naturedly laid aside her own book, and read aloud to

Delight until her throat was tired.

"Go on," said Delight, as she paused.

"I can't," said Midget, "for it hurts my throat."

"Oh, pshaw, what a fuss you are! I think you might read; it's the only thing that makes me forget my headache."

So Marjorie began again, and read until Delight fell asleep.

"I'm glad I kept on," thought Midget to herself; "though it did make my throat all scratchy. But I mustn't be sorry for myself, so I'm glad I was sorry for Delight. Maybe a little nap will make her head better."

CHAPTER XIII
GOLDFISH AND KITTENS

Leaving Delight asleep, Marjorie wandered out to the dining-room, where Mrs. Spencer was assisting the waitress in her duties. As Maggie was not allowed to leave the sick-room, Mary, the waitress, did the cooking, and this left many smaller offices to be performed by Mrs. Spencer.

"Can't I help you?" asked Marjorie, who was at her wits' end for occupation.

Usually, she could entertain herself for any length of time, but the strangeness of her surroundings, and a general feeling of homesickness made books or games unattractive.

"Why, no, Marjorie; little girls can't help," said Mrs. Spencer, who never thought of calling on Delight for assistance.

"Oh, yes, I can; truly I can do lots of things. Mayn't I put away that silver?"

"No; you don't know where it belongs. But if want to help me, can't you attend to Delight's canary? He hasn't had his bath, and Mary is too busy to do it. Do you know how?"

"Oh, yes; I often give our bird his bath, and clean his cage, and give him fresh seed and water. Where shall I find the birdseed?"

"In the small cupboard in Delight's playroom, the room where the bird is, you know."

"Yes'm, I know."

Marjorie ran upstairs, interested in this work, and taking the cage from its hook, set it on the table. She found the little bathtub and filled it with water of just the right warmth, and taking the upper part of the cage from its base, set it over the tub, which she had carefully placed on a large newspaper.

"There," she said, "spatter away as much as you like, while I cut a nice round paper carpet for your cage. I don't know your name, but I shall call you Buttercup, because you're so yellow."

The bird cocked his black eye at her, and seemed to approve of his new attendant, for he hopped into his bath, and splashed the water vigorously.

"You're a nice little Buttercup," went on Midget; "some bad little birdies won't jump in and bathe. There, I think that's enough; you'll wash all your feathers off! Here you go back home again."

She replaced the cage, filled the seed and water vases, and hung it back on its hook.

Midget was a capable little girl, and she took away the bathtub, and tidied up all traces of her work, as neatly as Mary could have done. Then she looked around for more worlds to conquer.

She saw the aquarium, a small round one, all of glass, in which were four goldfish.

"I think I'll give you a bath," said Midget to the fishes, laughing at the absurdity of the idea. But as she stood watching them, she observed the green mossy slime that covered the stones and shells at the bottom of the aquarium, and it occurred to her that it would be a good idea to clean them.

"There's a small scrubbing-brush in the bathroom," she said to herself, "and I can scrub them clean, and put in fresh water, and Mrs. Spencer will be so surprised and pleased."

She was about to bring a bowl of water from the bathroom to put the stones in while she scrubbed them, but she thought since there was already water in the glass, she might as well use that, and then get clean water for the fishes afterward.

"But I don't believe they'll like the soap," she thought, as, scrub-brush in hand, she was about to dip the soap in the water. "So I'll lay them aside while I scrub."

Marjorie had never had any goldfish, and knew nothing about them, so with no thought save to handle them gently, she took them out of the water, and laid them on the table in the sunlight.

She caught them by the simple process of using her handkerchief as a drag-net, and with great care, laid them softly down on the felt table-cover.

"There, fishies," she said, "don't take to your heels and run away. I'll soon clean up these dirty old stones and shells, then I'll give you nice fresh water, and put you back home again."

The stones and shells did look better, according to Midget's way of thinking, after she had vigorously scrubbed the moss from them. They shone glistening, and white, and she put them back in the aquarium and filled it with clean water, and then went for the fish.

"Ah, taking a nap, are you?" she said, as the four lay quiet on the table. But when she carefully put them back in the water, and they didn't wriggle or squirm a bit, she knew at once they were dead.

"You horrid things!" cried Midget, "what did you go and die for, just when I was fixing up your cage so nice? You're not really dead, are you? Wake up!"

She poked and pinched them to no avail.

"Oh, dear!" she sighed, "whenever I try to be good and helpful, I'm bad and troublesome. Now I must go and tell Mrs. Spencer about it. I wonder what she'll say. I wish I could tell mother first, but they'd hear me on the telephone. Perhaps the old things will come alive again. Maybe they've only fainted."

But no sign of life came from the four victims, who calmly floated on top of the water, as if scorning the clean white stones and shells below. They looked so pretty and so pathetic, that Marjorie burst into tears, and ran downstairs in search of Mrs. Spencer. That lady heard the tale with a look of mingled amusement and annoyance on her face.

"I've heard you were a mischievous child," she said, "but I didn't think you'd begin your pranks so soon."

"But it wasn't pranks, Mrs. Spencer," said Midget, earnestly. "I truly wanted to be help, fill, and I fixed the bird's cage so nicely, I thought I'd fix the fishes' cage too."

"But you must have known that fishes die out of water."

"No'm; I didn't. At least,—it seems to me now that I ought to have known it, but I didn't think about it when I took 'em out. You see, I never had any goldfish of my own."

"Well, don't worry about it, child. It can't be helped now. But I suppose

Delight will feel terribly. She was so fond of her goldfish."

"I'm sure Father will let me give her some more," said Midget, "but I suppose she won't care for any others."

She went back to the library, where she had left Delight asleep, and found her just waking up.

"Delight," she said, wanting to get it over as soon as possible, "I've killed all four of your goldfish!"

"On purpose?" said Delight, still sleepy and uncomprehending.

"No, of course not. It was an accident. I just laid them on the table while I cleaned the aquarium, and they fainted away and staid fainted. I guess they must have been sick before."

"No, they weren't. They were awfully frisky yesterday. I think you're real mean, Marjorie."

"I'm awful sorry, Delight, truly I am. But I'm 'most sure Father will let me give you other fish to make up for them."

"But they won't be the same fish."

"No, of course not. But we'll get prettier ones."

"Oh, no, you needn't get any fish at all. I'd rather have a kitten."

"Oh, I can get you a kitten easily enough. James always knows where to get them. What color do you want?"

"Gray; Maltese, you know. Will he get it to-day?"

"I'll ask Mother to ask him to-day. He'll get it soon, I know."

"All right; I'd heaps rather have that than fish. I'm tired of goldfish, anyway. You can't cuddle them like you can kittens. And I never had a kitten."

"You didn't! Why, Delight Spencer! I never heard of a girl that had never had a kitten! I'll ask Mother to see about it right away. Do you want two?"

"Yes, as many as I can have. I ought to have four to make up for those goldfish."

"You can have four, if your mother'll let you," said Midget. "Ask her."

"Oh, she'll let me. She never says no to anything I want. Does your mother?"

"Yes, often. But then, I want such crazy things."

"So do I. But I get them. Go on and see about the kittens."

So Midget went to the telephone and told her mother the whole story about the goldfish.

Mrs. Maynard was surprised at Marjorie's ignorance of fish's habits, but she didn't scold.

"I do think," she said "that you should have known better; but of course I know you didn't intend to harm the fish. And anyway we won't discuss it over the telephone. I'll wait until we're together again."

"You'll have to keep a list of all my mischief, Mother," said Midget, cheerfully; "and do up the scolding and punishing all at once, when I get home."

"Yes, but don't get into mischief while you're over there. Do try,

Marjorie, to behave yourself."

"I will, Mother, but I'm so tired of staying here I don't know what to do. Delight heard me say that, but I can't help it. I expect she's tired of having me here."

"I am not!" declared Delight; "now ask her about the kittens."

So Marjorie asked her mother about the kittens, and Mrs. Maynard promised to ask James to see if he couldn't find some that would be glad of a good home.

And so anxious was James to please his dear Miss Marjorie, and so numerous were kittens among James' circle of personal acquaintances, that that very afternoon, a basket was set on the Spencer's porch and the door bell was rung.

Mary opened the door and saw the basket, well-covered over.

"The saints presarve us!" she cried; "sure, it's a baby!"

She brought the basket in, and Mrs. Spencer turned back the folded blanket, and disclosed four roly-poly kittens all cuddled into one heap of fur.

"Oh!" cried Delight, "did you ever see anything so lovely! Midget, I'm so glad you killed the goldfish! These are a million times nicer."

"But you could have had these too," said Marjorie; "and anyway, I'll probably put these in the aquarium and drown them, by mistake!"

"Indeed you won't!" said Delight, cuddling the little balls of fur. "Oh,

Mother, aren't they dear?"

"They are very cunning," answered Mrs. Spencer, "and I'm glad you have them. Though four seems a good many. Don't you want to give them some milk?"

"Oh, yes; and we'll teach them all to eat from one saucer, so they'll be loving and affectionate."

The kittens showed no desire to be other than affectionate, and amicably lapped up milk from the same saucer, without dispute.

There was one white, one Maltese, one black, and one yellow, and Marjorie felt sure James had chosen the prettiest he could find.

"Now to name them," said Delight. "Let's choose lovely names. You'll help us, won't you, Miss Hart?"

"You ought to call the white one Pop Corn," said Miss Hart, "for it's just like a big kernel of freshly popped corn."

"I will," said Delight, "for it's like that; but as that's a hard name to say, I'll call her Poppy for short. A white poppy, you know. Now the black one?"

"Blackberry," suggested Marjorie, and that was the chosen name. The yellow one was named Goldenrod, and the gray one Silverbell, and the four together made as pretty a picture as you could imagine. The girls spent an hour or more playing with them and watching their funny antics, and then Miss Hart proposed that they, crochet balls of different color for each little cat.

Mrs. Spencer provided a box of worsted and they chose the colors.

A red ball was to be made for Blackberry, and a light blue one for Poppy.

Goldenrod was to have a yellow one, and Silverbell a pink one.

Miss Hart showed the girls how to crochet a round cover, hooping it to form a ball, and then stuffing it tightly with worsted just before finishing it.

They made the four balls and tried to teach the kittens to remember their own colors. But in this they were not very successful, as the kittens liked the balls so much they played with any one they could catch.

When Mr. Maynard came home, true to his word, he sent Marjorie a gift.

The bell rang, and there on the doorstep lay a parcel.

It proved to contain two picture puzzles.

"Oh, goody!" cried Midget. "These are just what I wanted. I've heard about them, but I've never had any, and Father told me last week he'd get me one. One's for you, Delight, and one's for me. Which do you choose?"

"Left hand," said Delight, as Marjorie's hands went behind her.

"All right; here it is."

"But I don't know how to do puzzles. I never saw one like this."

"If you knew how to do it, it wouldn't be a puzzle. I don't know either; but we'll learn."

"I'll show you how to begin," said Miss Hart. "Wait a minute."

She went out to the dining-room, and returned with two trays, oblong, square-cornered and of fairly good size.

"Make your puzzles on these," she said, "and then you can carry them around while working on them, if you want to. You can't do that, if you make them right on the table."

So with the trays on the table in front of them the girls began. Each puzzle had about a hundred and fifty pieces, and they were not easy ones. Miss Hart showed them how to find pieces that fitted each other; but would not help them after the first two or three bits were joined, for she said the fun was in doing it themselves.

"But I can't!" said Midge, looking perfectly hopeless; "these pieces are all brownish and greenish and I don't know what they are."

"I see," said Delight, her eyes sparkling; "you must find a face, or something that you can tell what it is, and start from that."

"But there isn't any face here," said Midget; "here's one eye,—if it is an eye!"

"Begin with that," advised Miss Hart. "Find some more of a face to go with it."

"Oh, yes; here's a nose and lips! Why, it just fits in!"

Soon the two children were absorbed in the fascinating work. It was a novelty, and it happened to appeal to both of them.

"Don't look at each other's picture," warned Miss Hart, "and then, when both are done, you can exchange and do each other's. It's no fun if you see the picture before you try to make it."

"Some pieces of mine must be missing," declared Marjorie; "there's no piece at all to go into this long, narrow curving space."

Miss Hart smiled, for she had had experience in this pastime.

"Everybody thinks pieces are lost at some stage of the work," she said; "never mind that space, Marjorie, keep on with the other parts."

"Oh!" cried Delight. "I can see part of the picture now! It's going to be a—"

"Don't tell!" interrupted Miss Hart; "after you've each done both of them, you can look at the finished pictures together. But now, keep it secret what the pictures are about."

So the work went on, and now and then a chuckle of pleasure or an exclamation of impatience would tell of the varying fortunes of the workers.

"Oh!" cried Delight. "I just touched a piece to straighten it, and I joggled the whole thing out of place!"

Then Miss Hart showed them how to take a ruler and straighten the edges,—if the edges were built; and how to crowd a corner down into a corner of the tray, and so keep the pieces in place. So engrossed were the two that Mrs. Spencer had difficulty to persuade them to come to dinner.

"Oh, Mother," cried Delight, "do wait till I find this lady's other arm.

I'm sure I saw it a moment ago."

And Marjorie lingered, looking for a long triangle with a notch in the end.

But at last they set their trays carefully away, at different ends of the room, and even laid newspapers over them, so they shouldn't see each other's puzzle.

"That's the most fun of any game I ever played," said Delight, as she took her seat at the table.

"I think so too," said Midge; "are there many of them made, Miss Hart?"

"Thousands, my dear. And all, or nearly all, different."

"When we finish these," said Delight, "I'll ask my father to bring us some more. I just love to do them."

"You musn't do too many," said Miss Hart; "that stooping position is not good for little girls if kept up too long at a time."

"It did make the back of my neck ache," said Delight; "but I don't mind, it's such fun to see the picture come."

CHAPTER XIV
A PLEASANT SCHOOL

The next day lessons began. Miss Hart and Mrs. Spencer agreed that it would be better for the two little girls to have regular school hours, and Delight was glad to have Marjorie at her lessons with her.

Midge herself was not overpleased at the prospect, but her parents had approved of the plan, and had sent over her school-books.

The play-room was used as a school-room, and a pleasant enough room it was.

When the girls went in, at nine o'clock, it didn't seem a bit like school.

Miss Hart, in a pretty light house-dress, sat in a low rocker by the window. There was nothing suggesting a desk, and on a near-by table were a few books and a big bowl of flowers.

The girls sat where they chose, on the couch or in chairs, and as Midget told her mother afterward, it seemed more like a children's party than school.

"First, let's read a story," said Miss Hart, and Marjorie's eyes opened wider than ever.

"Aren't we going to have school to-day?" she asked.

"Yes, Marjorie; this is school. Here are your books,—we'll each have one."

She gave them each a copy of a pretty looking book, and asked them to open it at a certain page.

Then Miss Hart read aloud a few pages, and the girls followed her in their own books. Then she asked Delight to read, and as she did so, Miss Hart stopped her occasionally to advise her about her manner of reading. But she did this so pleasantly and conversationally that it didn't seem at all like a reading-lesson, although that's really what it was.

Marjorie's turn came next, and by this time she had become so interested in the story, that she began at once, and read so fast, that she went helter-skelter, fairly tumbling over herself in her haste.

"Wait, Marjorie, wait!" cried Miss Hart, laughing at her. "The end of the story will keep; it isn't going to run away. Don't try so hard to catch it!"

Marjorie smiled herself, as she slowed down, and tried to read more as she should.

But Miss Hart had to correct her many times, for Midget was not a good reader, and did not do nearly so well as Delight.

And though Miss Hart's corrections were pleasantly and gently made, she was quite firm about them, and insisted that Marjorie should modulate her voice, and pronounce her words just as she was told.

"What a fine story!" exclaimed Delight, as they finished it.

"Oh, isn't it great!" exclaimed Marjorie; "do you call this book a

'Reader,' Miss Hart?"

"Yes, I call it a Reader. But then I call any book a Reader that I choose to have my pupils read from. This book is named 'Children's Stories From English Literature,' so you see, by using it, we study literature and learn to read at the same time. The one we read to-day, 'The Story of Robin Hood,' is a story you ought to know well, and we will read other versions of it some day. Now, we will talk about it a little."

And then they had a delightful talk about the story they had read, and Miss Hart told them many interesting things concerning it, and the children asked questions; and then Miss Hart had them read certain portions of the story again, and this time she said Marjorie read much better.

"For I understand now," said Midge, "what I'm reading about. And, oh,

Miss Hart, I'm crazy to tell King all about it! He'll just love to play

Robin Hood!"

"Yes," said Miss Hart, "it makes a fine game for out-of-doors. Perhaps some day we'll find a story that we can play indoors, while you poor prisoners are kept captive."

Marjorie gave a little sigh of pleasure. If this was school, it was a very nice kind of school indeed, but she supposed that arithmetic and spelling and all those horrid things were yet to come. And sure enough, Miss Hart's next words brought sorrow to her soul.

"Now, girlies, we'll just have a little fun with arithmetic. I happen to know you both hate it so perhaps if you each hold a kitten in your arm it will cheer your drooping spirits a little."

Marjorie laughed outright at this. Kittens in school were funny indeed!

"Yes," said Miss Hart, laughing with Marjorie, "it's like Mary's little lamb, you know. I never forgave Mary's teacher for turning him out I think kittens in school are lovely. I'll hold one myself."

Then the girls drew nearer to Miss Hart, who had a large pad of paper and a pencil but no book.

And how she did it Marjorie never knew, but she made an example in Partial Payments so interesting, and so clear, that the girls not only understood it, but thought it fun.

Miss Hart said she was Mr. White, and the two children were Mr. Brown and Mr. Green, who each owed her the same sum of money. It was to be paid in partial payments, and the sharp and business-like Mr. White insisted on proper payments and exact interest from the other two gentlemen, who vied with each other to tell first how much was due Mr. White. There was some laughing at first, but the fun changed to earnest, and even the kittens were forgotten while the important debts were being paid.

"Good-bye, arithmetic!" cried Miss Hart, as the problem entirely finished, and thoroughly understood, she tossed the papers aside; "good-bye for to-day! Now, for something pleasanter."

"But that was pleasant, Miss Hart," said Marjorie; "I didn't think arithmetic could ever be pleasant, but it was. How did you make it so?"

"Because I had such pleasant little pupils, I think," said Miss Hart, smiling. "Now for a few calisthenics with open windows."

The windows were flung up, and under Miss Hart's leadership they went through a short gymnastic drill.

"Doesn't that make you feel good?" said Marjorie, all aglow with the exercise, as they closed the windows, and sat down again.

"That's no sort of a drill, really," said Miss Hart; "but it will do for to-day. When we get fairly started, we'll have gymnastics that will be a lot more fun than that. But now for our botany lesson."

"Botany!" cried Midge; "I've never studied that!"

"Nor I," said Delight, "and I haven't any book."

"Here's the book," said Miss Hart, taking a large white daisy from the bowl of flowers on the table.

"How many leaves has it?"

The girls guessed at the number of petals, but neither guessed right. Then they sat down in front of Miss Hart, and she told them all about the pretty blossom.

She broke it apart, telling them the names of petals, sepals, corolla and all the various tiny parts.

The two children looked and listened breathlessly. They could scarcely believe the yellow centre was itself made up of tiny flowers.

It was all so interesting and so wonderful, and, too, so new to them both.

"Is that botany?" said Marjorie, with wide-open eyes.

"Yes; that's my idea of teaching botany. Text-books are so dry and dull,

I think."

"So do I," said Midge; "I looked in a botany book once, and it was awful poky. Tell us more, Miss Hart."

"Not to-day, dearie; it's one o'clock, and school is over for to-day."

"One o'clock!" both girls exclaimed at once; "it can't be!"

But it was, and as they scampered away to make themselves tidy for luncheon, Marjorie said: "Oh! isn't she lovely! Do you always have a governess like that, Delight?"

"No, indeed! My last one was strict and stern, and just heard my lessons out of books. And if I missed a word she scolded fearfully."

"I never saw anybody like Miss Hart! why that kind of school is play."

"Yes, I think so too. And it's lovely to have you here. It's so much more interesting than to have my lessons alone."

"Oh, Miss Hart would make it interesting for anybody, alone or not. But I'll be here for two weeks, I suppose. I don't mind it so much if we have school like that every day."

"And picture puzzles every evening."

"Yes, and kittens all day long!" Marjorie picked up two or three of the furry little balls, that were always under foot, and squeezed them.

At luncheon they gave Mrs. Spencer such a glowing account of their "school" that Miss Hart was quite overcome by their praise.

"It's all because they're such attentive pupils," she said modestly.

"No, it isn't," said Mrs. Spencer. "I knew what a kind and tactful teacher you were before you came. A little bird told me."

"Now how did the bird know that?" said Miss Hart, smiling, and Midget wondered if Miss Hart thought Mrs. Spencer meant a real bird.

Afternoons the governess always had to herself. If she chose to be with the family, she might, but she was not called upon for any duties. So after Midget and Delight had finished their picture puzzles, and had exchanged, and done each other's, time again seemed to hang heavily on their hands.

It was really because they felt imprisoned, rather than any real restraint. Marjorie wanted to run out of doors and play, and Delight didn't know exactly what she did want.

They were allowed to walk on the side piazza, if they chose, but walking up and down a short porch was no fun, and so they fidgeted.

"Let's get up a good, big rousing game," said Midget, "a new one."

"All right," said Delight, "let's."

"Can we go all over the house?"

"Yes, all except the attic and kitchen."

The sick child and his mother had been put in two rooms in the third story. These were shut off from the main part of the house, and were further protected by sheets sprinkled with carbolic acid which hung over them.

The children had been warned to keep as far as possible from these quarters, but the front of the house was at their disposal.

"Let me see," said Midget, who was doing some hard thinking. "I guess we'll play 'Tourists.'"

"How do you play it?"

"I don't know yet. I'm just making it up. We're the tourists, you know; and the house, the whole house in an ocean steamer. First, we must get our wraps and rugs."

Diligent search made havoc in Mrs. Spencer's cupboards, but resulted in a fine array of luggage.

The girls dressed themselves up in Mrs. Spencer's long cats, and Mr. Spencer's caps, tied on with motor-veils, made what they agreed was a fine tourist costume.

In shawl straps they packed afghans, pillows, and such odds and ends as books and pictures, and they filled travellings bags with anything they could find.

Loaded down with their luggage, they went down in the front hall, where

Marjorie said the game must begin.

"Have you ever been on an ocean steamer, Delight?" she asked.

"No; have you?"

"Yes. I haven't sailed on one, you know, but I went on board to see Aunt Margaret sail. So I know how they are. This house isn't built just right; we'll have to pretend a lot. But never mind that."

"No, I don't mind. Now are we getting on board?"

"Yes, here's the gang plank. Now we go upstairs to the main saloon and decks. Be careful, the ship is pitching fearfully!"

Oblivious to the fact that steamers don't usually pitch fearfully while in port, the two travellers staggered up the staircase, tumbling violently from side to side.

"Oh, one of my children has fallen overboard!" cried Delight, as she purposely dropped Goldenrod over the banister.

"Man overboard!" cried Marjorie, promptly. "A thousand dollars reward! Who can save the precious child?" Swiftly changing from a tourist to a common sailor, Marjorie plunged into the waves, and swam after the fast-disappearing Goldenrod. She caught the kitten by its tail, as it was creeping under a sofa, and triumphantly brought it back to the weeping mother.

"Bless you, good man!" cried Delight, her face buried in her handkerchief. "I will reward you with a thousand golden ducats."

"I ask no reward, ma'am; 'twas but my humble duty."

"Say not so! You have rendered me a service untold by gold."

Delight's diction often became a little uncertain, but if it sounded well, that was no matter.

"My cabin is forty-two," said Marjorie, who was once more a tourist, on her way upstairs.

"Here is a steward," said Delight, "he will show us the way."

The steward was invisible, but either of the girls spoke in his voice, as occasion demanded.

"This way, madam," said Midget, as she led Delight to the door of her own room. "This is your stateroom, and I hope it will suit you."

"Is it an outside one?" asked Delight, who had travelled on night boats, though not across the ocean.

"Yes, ma'am. Outside and inside both. Where is your steamer trunk?"

"It will be sent up, I suppose."

"Yes, ma'am. Very good, ma'am. Now, you can be steward to me, Delight."

"Shure. This way, mum. It's Oirish, I am, but me heart is warrum. Shall I carry the baby for ye?"

"Yes," said Midget, giggling at Delight's Irish brogue, which was always funny; "but be careful. The child isn't well." The child was Blackberry, who was dressed in large white muffler of Mrs. Spencer's pinned 'round its neck.

"The saints presarve us, mum! Ye've got the wrong baby! This is a black one, mum!"

"That's all right," said Midget "She's only wearing a black veil, to,—to keep off the cold air."

"Yis, mum. Now, here's yer stateroom, mum, and 'tis the captain's own. He do be givin' it to you, 'cause ye'r such a foine lady."

"Yes, I am;" said Marjorie, complacently. "I'm Lady Daffodil of—of

Bombay."

"Ye look it! And now if ye'll excuse me, mum, I'll go and get the other passengers to rights."

Delight slipped back to her stateroom, and returned with Goldenrod in her arms. She met Marjorie in the hall.

"I think I have met you before," she said, bowing politely.

"Yes," said Marjorie, in a haughty voice, "we met at the Earl's ball. I am Lady Daffodil."

"Ah, yes, I remember you now. I am the Countess of Heliotrope."

"My dear Countess! I'm so glad to see you again. Are you going across?"

"Why, yes, I think I will."

"I think you'll have to, as the ship has already started. Let us go out on deck."

As they were well bundled up, they opened the door and stepped out on the second story balcony. It was not unlike a deck, and they went and stood by the railing.

"The sea is very blue, isn't it?" said Lady Daffodil, looking down at the bare ground with patches of snow here and there.

"Yes, and see the white caps. Oh, we shall have a fine sail. Are you ever seasick?"