“Oh, how do you do?” Hildegarde went quickly forward and shook hands with a tiny, weather-beaten woman. “I heard on the water front you wus askin’ for me,” said the new-comer, looking very shy and embarrassed. “Oh!” Mrs. Mar was on her feet. “Is this Mrs. Blumpitty?” Before that little person knew what had happened, she was on the other side of the room, shrinking into the extreme corner of a big, red satin sofa—not unlike some sort of insect hiding in the heart of a poppy. But it was idle trying to escape from Mrs. Mar. She prodded her prisoner with pointed questions, and there was no manner of doubt but “Mis’ Bumble Bee” was intensely frightened. But she must have come out of the ordeal uncommon well, for the catechist rose at the end of a quarter of an hour (breaking in upon Harry’s glib exposition of the huge difficulty in these days of floating a gold mining scheme). “Your wife and I have been arranging things,” said Mrs. Mar, with a suddenness that made Blumpitty blink. “My daughter must go on your ship.” “But, mama—” “Mrs. Blumpitty says she will look after you on board.” “Yes,” agreed the rusty wife, a little breathless. “And if she doesn’t find her father just at first she can stay with us, can’t she?” Blumpitty, thus appealed to, said, “Ya-as,” so entirely without enthusiasm, that his wife added, “He said to me after we’d talked with your daughter, ‘It’s a pity she ain’t goin’ on the _Los Angeles_. We could ’a’ helped her.’” “Well, she is going on the _Los Angeles_.” “No, mama, the _Congress_.” “Don’t be pig-headed, Hildegarde. Why should you insist on the _Congress_ when here are Mr. and Mrs. Blumpitty ready to look after you on the _Los Angeles_?” “I don’t exactly insist, but I’ve paid $125—” “You can change your ticket, if that’s all, can’t she?” Mrs. Blumpitty appealed to the repository of wisdom on the edge of the chair. “Oh, ya-as,” said Mr. Blumpitty. “Why are you so sure?” said Hildegarde. “Is it because the _Congress_ is so much the better boat, as your big, tall friend said?” “He ain’t right about that, though he’s a mighty smart feller. Been to Harvard College,” he said, for Mrs. Mar’s benefit. Then, as one adducing a destiny higher still, “The _Los Angeles_ has been a Manila transport.” “But why does everybody seem to want to go in the _Congress_?” “Sails four days earlier,” said Blumpitty unmoved. “But”—he glanced, or no, Blumpitty never glanced; with apparent difficulty he rolled his pale eye heavily over to Mrs. Mar—“settin’ out’s one thing, gettin’ in’s another. ’Tain’t likely the _Congress_’ll see Nome ’fore we do.” “Anyhow, what are four days compared to—?” Mrs. Mar turned briskly upon her daughter. “Mrs. Blumpitty is going to see that you have all the necessary things, and if you’re sick she’s going to look after you.”