“Oh, yes, quite, thank you,” said Hildegarde, a little ashamed at being so infinitely better off than poor Mrs. Blumpitty. But that lady, with an air of subdued pride, was presenting, “One of our party, Dr. Daly,” an important-looking man of thirty or so, with a highly impressive manner. “Ruth, Ruth, please come here! My niece, Miss Sears.” “My niece” was little and shy and brown. Hildegarde felt instantly that she was a nice niece. “And this is Mr. Tobin. Dr. Merton”—about nineteen this last gentleman, with the complexion of a lucky girl. “And Dr. Thomas.” Why, it rained doctors! Which was the dentist? Hildegarde on reflection decided they were all dentists. “Oh, and here comes Miss Leroy Schermerhorn!” Mrs. Blumpitty spoke in the tone of a chamberlain announcing “Her Majesty the Queen!” Through the crowd advanced the heralded “business woman to Blumpitty & Co.,” a lady of twenty-eight or thirty, with a somewhat defiant face under the shadow of a fuzzy black bang, and a ruthless eye. When it had pierced Miss Mar in many a vital spot, it fell upon the only deck-chair on the ship, with its “robe” and scarlet cushion. “Well, you’re making yourself pretty comfortable,” said Miss Leroy Schermerhorn. “Like your room?” Hildegarde was in no haste to reply. Mrs. Blumpitty bridged the chasm. “I was so glad when I heard you’d got a berth up-stairs.” “I guess it cost you a lot,” said Miss Schermerhorn, with a snap of her eyes. “No,” said Hildegarde. “It was a piece of luck.” “Well, I’m that glad and relieved,” said Mrs. Blumpitty, as the haughty Schermerhorn retired a few paces to whisper conclusions in Dr. Thomas’ ear, while surreptitiously both pursued their study of Miss Mar. But Mrs. Blumpitty’s eye still angled among the sea creatures that swarmed upon the waters of Puget Sound. With a little jerk of satisfaction she landed yet another big fish. “Miss Estelle Maris.” Oh, yes, the lady with the languid air, the rakish hat and red velveteen blouse; this was the one who “said” she could cook. “Any more of our party up yet?” Mrs. Blumpitty asked her. “Guess the rest’s asleep,” answered Miss Estelle Maris. “Guess so, too,” said Mr. Blumpitty, with benevolence. “We wus all pretty tired.” And that was the sole reference to the battle of the night before. Neither then nor later from any member of Blumpitty’s staunch party a syllable of complaint at their quarters on the ship. Mr. Blumpitty himself, during these amenities and some further conversation, had stood by the ship’s side, looking sadly toward Vancouver Island. “There goes our breakfast horn,” said his wife at last, as one who offers substantial cheer. The Blumpitty party melted away; only the leader remained. “Guess everybody that ain’t on deck’s either eatin’ or asleep.” He offered it as a general comment upon existence. “I suppose so,” said Miss Mar. “And the smokin’-room’ll be empty. Will you step in there a minute?” “Yes.” (What on earth—?)