tairs was suddenly thrust open against my face, and framed in the
opening thus made, there appeared the august visage of Auntie Lucinda
herself.

"Well, sir-r-r-r!" said she, after a time, regarding me sternly. I can
by no means reproduce the awfulness of her "r's."

"Yes, madam?" I replied mildly, holding my nose, which had been
smitten by the door.

She made no answer, but stood, a basilisk in mien.

"I just came, my dear Mrs. Daniver," I began, "to ask you----"

"And time you did, sir-r-r-r! I was just coming to ask _you_----"

"And time you did, my dear Mrs. Daniver--I have missed you so much,
these several days. So I just called to ask for your health."

"You need not trouble about my health!"

"But I do, I do, madam! I give you my word, I was awake all night,
thinking of--of your neuralgia. Neuralgia is something--something
fierce, in a manner of speech--if one has it in the morning, my dear
Mrs. Daniver."

"Don't 'dear Mrs. Daniver' me! I'm not your dear Mrs. Daniver at all."

"Then whose dear Mrs. Daniver are you, my dear Mrs. Daniver?" I
rejoined most impudently.

"If the poor dear Admiral were alive," said she, sniffing, "you should
repent those words!"

"I wish the poor dear Admiral were here," said I. "I should like to
ask an abler sailorman than Peterson what to do, with the glass
falling as it is, and the holding ground none too good for an anchor.
I thought it just as well to come and tell you to prepare for the
worst."

"The worst--what do you mean?" She now advanced three steps upward, so
that her shoulders were above the cabin door. Almost mechanically she
took my hand.

"The worst just now is nothing worse than an orange with ice, my dear
Mrs. Daniver. And I only wanted you to come out on deck with--Miss
Emory--and see how blue the sea is."

She advanced another step, being fond of an iced orange at
eleven-thirty. But now she paused. "My niece is resting," said she,
feeling her way.

"No, I am not," I heard a voice say. Inadvertently I turned and almost
perforce glanced down the cabin stair. Helena, in a loose morning wrap
of pink, was lying on the couch. She now cast aside the covering of
eider-down, and shaking herself once, sprang up the stairs, so that
her dark hair appeared under Auntie Lucinda's own. Slowly that
obstacle yielded, and both finally stood on the after deck. The soft
wind caught the dark tendrils of Helena's hair. With one hand she
pushed at them. The other cau