But it's my belief I'm irritable because I do not know my
own mind. I hate the stuffy stateroom, the food, the captain."

"The captain?"

"Yes. Nothing seems to disturb his conceit. To-night we sleep on
deck, the starboard side. At five o'clock we have to get up and go
inside again so they can holystone the deck. And I am always soundest
asleep at that time. Doubtless, I shall be irritable all day
to-morrow."

"Sleep up here on deck?" horrified.

"That, or suffocate below."

"But the men?"

"They sleep on the port side." Elsa laughed maliciously. "Don't
worry. Nobody minds."

"I hate the East," declared Martha vindictively. "Everything is so
slack. It just brings out the shiftlessness in everybody."

"Perhaps that is what ails me; I am growing shiftless. When I came on
board I decided to marry Arthur, and have done with the pother. Now I
am at the same place as when I left home. I don't want to marry
anybody. Have you noticed that fellow Craig?"

"What will you do if he speaks?"

"I have half a dozen good hat-pins left," dryly.

"I hate to hear you talk like that."

"It's the East. . . . There goes that hateful gong again. Soup,
chicken, curry, rice and piccalilli. I am going to live on plantains
and mangosteens. I'm glad we had sense enough to order that distilled
water. I should die if I had to drink any more soda. I wish I had
booked straight through. I shall be bored to death in Japan, much as I
wish to see the cherry-blossom dance. Probably I shan't enjoy
anything. Come; we'll go down as we are to dinner, and watch the
ridiculous captain and his fan-bearer. The punka will at least give us
a breath of fresh air. There doesn't seem to be any on deck. One
regrets Darjeeling."

Martha followed her young mistress into the dining-saloon; she was
anxious and upset. Where would this mood end? With a glance of relief
she found Warrington's chair still vacant.

The saloon had an air of freshness to-night. All the men were in drill
or pongee, and so receptive is the imagination that the picture robbed
the room of half its heat. To and fro the punka flapped; the pulleys
creaked and the ropes scraped above the sound of knives and forks and
spoons.

Elsa ate little besides fruit. She spoke scarcely a word to Martha,
and none to those around her. Thus, she missed the frown of the
colonel and the lifted brows of the spinsters, and the curious glances
of the tourists. The pas