, I should imagine," I answered. "Oh, I see!
You've skipped a line, Hephzy. Bergenstein belongs to another person.
The Princess's name is Berkovitchky. Russian or Polish, perhaps."

"I don't care if she's Chinese; I mean to see her. I never expected to
look at a live Princess in MY life."

We stopped in the hall at the entrance to the dining-saloon to examine
the table chart. Hephzibah made careful notes of the tables at which the
knights and the lord and the Princess were seated and their locations.
At lunch she consulted the notes.

"The lord sits right behind us at that little table there," she said,
excitedly. "That table for two is marked 'Lord and Lady Erkskine.' Now
we must watch when they come in."

A few minutes later a gray-haired little man, accompanied by a
middle-aged woman entered the saloon and were seated at the small table
by an obsequious steward. Hephzy gasped.

"Why--why, Hosy!" she exclaimed. "That isn't the lord, is it? THAT?"

"I suppose it must be," I answered. When our own Steward came I asked
him.

"Yes, sir," he answered, with unction. "Yes, sir, that is Lord and Lady
Erkskine, sir, thank you, sir."

Hephzy stared at Lord and Lady Erkskine. I gave our luncheon order,
and the steward departed. Then her indignant disgust and disappointment
burst forth.

"Well! well!" she exclaimed. "And that is a real live lord! That is!
Why, Hosy, he's the livin' image of Asaph Tidditt back in Bayport. If
Ase could afford clothes like that he might be his twin brother. Well! I
guess that's enough. I don't want to see that Princess any more. Just as
like as not she'd look like Susanna Wixon."

Her criticisms were not confined to passengers of other nationalities.
Some of our own came in for comment quite as severe.

"Look at those girls at that table over there," she whispered. "The two
in red, I mean. One of 'em has got a little flag pinned on her dress.
What do you suppose that is for?"

I looked at the young ladies in red. They were vivacious damsels and
their conversation and laughter were by no means subdued. A middle-aged
man and woman and two young fellows were their table-mates and the group
attracted a great deal of attention.

"What has she got that flag pinned on her for?" repeated Hephzy.

"She wishes everyone to know she's an American exportation, I suppose,"
I answered. "She is evidently proud of her country."

"Humph! Her country wouldn't be proud of her, if it had to listen to