e rail, watching me.

"You are the man Mr. McWhirter has been looking after, aren't you?"

"Yes." I pulled off my cap, and, recollecting myself--"Yes, miss."

"You are not a sailor?"

"I have had some experience--and I am willing."

"You have been ill, haven't you?"

"Yes--miss."

"Could you polish brass, and things like that?"

"I could try. My arms are strong enough. It is only when I walk--"

But she did not let me finish. She left the rail abruptly, and
disappeared down the companionway into the after house. I waited
uncertainly. The captain saw me still loitering, and scowled. A
procession of men with trunks jostled me; a colored man, evidently a
butler, ordered me out of his way while he carried down into the cabin,
with almost reverent care, a basket of wine.

When the girl returned, she came to me, and stood for a moment, looking
me over with cool, appraising eyes. I had been right about her
appearance: she was charming--or no, hardly charming. She was too
aloof for that. But she was beautiful, an Irish type, with blue-gray
eyes and almost black hair. The tilt of her head was haughty. Later I
came to know that her hauteur was indifference: but at first I was
frankly afraid of her, afraid of her cool, mocking eyes and the upward
thrust of her chin.

"My brother-in-law is not here," she said after a moment, "but my
sister is below in the cabin. She will speak to the captain about you.
Where are your things?"

I glanced toward the hospital, where my few worldly possessions,
including my dress clothes, my amputating set, and such of my books as
I had not been able to sell, were awaiting disposition. "Very near,
miss," I said.

"Better bring them at once; we are sailing in the morning." She turned
away as if to avoid my thanks, but stopped and came back.

"We are taking you as a sort of extra man," she explained. "You will
work with the crew, but it is possible that we will need you--do you
know anything about butler's work?"

I hesitated. If I said yes, and then failed--

"I could try."

"I thought, from your appearance, perhaps you had done something of the
sort." Oh, shades of my medical forebears, who had bequeathed me,
along with the library, what I had hoped was a professional manner!
"The butler is a poor sailor. If he fails us, you will take his place."

She gave a curt little nod of dismissal, and I went down the gangplank
and along the wharf. I had secured what I w