My companion came to the table, but ate sparingly. The meal suited me to perfection, especially the fresh fish, drawn that day from the Caribbean, which swarms in the most appetizing varieties. The butter came in tins from Denmark, and was not bad. There was a ragout, some cakes, plenty of oranges and "figs," as the small yellow bananas are called in the Islands, good black coffee and cheese, and a fine _petit verre_ of brandy to top off with. Eggert and his wife dined with us at my earnest request. The quarantine master filled up the time with little reminiscences of my former stay, which he remembered much better than I. He pointed to the exact spot where each of the "famous party" sat at the table and laughed himself nearly into a fit as he spoke of the jokes Mapp played on the good-natured Haytian Jew we had named from his home town--"Puerta Plata." One of the guests of that day was the grandson of an American president and another the son of an American senator, but that did not harm either. A more diversified party, it is safe to say, were never placed together in a quarantine, or made the time pass in livelier fashion. When dinner ended the Madiana was out of sight. Miss May's headache had vanished and she passed the evening with me on the veranda, inspecting the stars through the telescope. They seemed brighter and larger than in America and what knowledge I had of their names and locations (gained principally three years before from the grandson of the President, who was an amateur astronomer of no mean acquirements) I imparted freely. "You seem ever so much better in health than when we left New York," said my companion. "I am," was my reply. "The sea always does wonders for me. I have lost entirely the nervous feeling I had before we started." "I wish I could say as much," she said. "I dread, for instance, going to bed alone in this strange place. Those shadows dancing on the grass almost terrify me." "I will get Eggert to put a lock on your door," I said. "He must have one somewhere and he is an excellent carpenter." She shuddered till her teeth chattered. "Not for the world!" she said. "I could not sleep with the door locked. I should feel as if I were choking. There is always a chance that one may be taken ill and have to call for help. With a locked door, what could I do? No, no! I will conquer my fears, which I admit are foolish ones." "The station is surrounded by a high fence," I said, "and the gate cannot be unbarred from the outside. You are perfectly safe. My room is close by. If the slightest thing alarms you, you have only to speak." She breathed with difficulty. It was plain that her terrors were genuine. "You will come--if I call you?" she asked. "Assuredly." "Do you sleep as lightly as that?" "I sleep like a child, as a general thing; but my name spoken by your voice will wake me instantly."