n I do, sir?" said she to Loring, in English. "This poor little
thing has eaten nothing since she came aboard. She has cried herself
sick. She is as weak as a baby and must have food, yet she will not let
me go."

"Stay with her until she is calmer," said Loring. "I'll get what is
needed."

"But I cannot. The other ladies call for me incessantly."

A little disk of gold was slipped quickly into the disengaged hand. "Let
them call awhile but don't you go," was the double answer.

It is odd to note how soon the troubled waves subside along those summer
shores. The Idaho was only lazily bowing and courtesying to Old Neptune
now. A long, languorous heave of the billows, as though worn out with
the furious lashing of the last few days, was the only greeting of the
broadening sea as the steamer rounded the southeast headland and slowly
bore away for Cape San Lucas. Little Pancha's dusky head was resting
wearily, yet resignedly, on the pillow, her hand still clasping that of
the stewardess, as an attendant from below appeared with a little tray
and some scalding hot chocolate, some tender slices of the breast of
chicken, some tempting little dainties were quickly set before her.
"Make her take them," whispered Loring from the shadows, and, once the
effort was made and the "ice broken," the dark-eyed invalid ate almost
eagerly. At three bells the stewardess was allowed to slip away for just
a little more chocolate, and, glancing furtively, fearfully about her,
Pancha was aware of a dim masculine form seated not ten feet away. She
knew it was Loring, and yet could not move. She felt that he must
presently rise and accost her, and she shrank from the meeting in
dismay, yet soon began to look again, and to note that he had not
changed his attitude. Apparently indifferent to her presence, he was
gazing dreamily out across the slowly-heaving billows, wherein the stars
were dancing. The stewardess was gone full quarter of an hour, and in
all that time he never even once glanced her way, and poor Pancha found
her eyes flitting toward him every little while in something almost
akin to fascination. Could it be that he had--forgotten?--or that he did
not recognize her? Yet she had heard how both Loring and the other, that
older officer, the Colonel Turnbull, had carried her below as she slowly
rallied from her fainting spell two nights before. Surely she thought
she remembered seeing recollection or recognition in the eyes of both,
y