‘Can any of you gentlemen show us the way to cabin number twelve?’ she asked, as, laden with parcels and band-boxes, she pushed her way to the front. Maggie was looking fresh and comely that evening. She wore her best clothes, and she had ‘cleaned herself’ for the occasion. Her dark hair and eyes formed a vivid contrast to her rosy cheeks; and her wide mouth, with its strong white teeth, looked sweet and wholesome. Will Farrell was the first man to answer her challenge. ‘_I_ will!’ he exclaimed, jumping up from his seat. ‘I sleep in number eleven. Here it is, you see--next to mine.’ ‘Thank you kindly. ’Tisn’t for me; it’s for this lady here. And now, how are we to get our boxes down?’ ‘Where are they?’ demanded Farrell. ‘On deck. There’s two of ’em. A black box, and a little blue one that’s mine.’ ‘If they’re not very large, I’ll bring them down for you.’ ‘Oh! _you’d_ make nothing of them. I’d carry them myself, except for those plaguey stairs.’ ‘Maggie,’ remonstrated Iris, in a low voice, ‘we cannot trouble this gentleman. Remember he is a stranger.’ ‘Oh, no! he ain’t. Are you, sir? No one is strangers once they’re on board ship together.’ ‘Of course not,’ rejoined Farrell heartily, ‘and if it is the case, the sooner we’re friends the better. But won’t you have a cup of tea first? Shall I tell the steward to fetch you some? Your friend looks tired.’ ‘She _is_ tired, poor dear!’ replied Maggie, who had been warned to treat Iris as her equal during the voyage. ‘I’ll fetch it whilst you are taking off your things,’ replied Farrell, hastening away. ‘Now, mistress, take off your hat and veil,’ whispered Maggie to Iris, as he disappeared, ‘this place is stifling hot.’ ‘Oh, Maggie! I feel as I should never dare to show my face in public.’ ‘Oh, but that’s nonsense! Besides, there’s no fear. _He’ll_ be a deal too grand to put his foot in the second cabin: you may take your oath of that. And here comes back this good fellow with the tea.’ ‘Really, sir, you’re very kind to us,’ said Maggie, as Farrell set two cups of steaming tea before them, ‘but _I_ mustn’t drink any, you know. _I_ ain’t a second classer. I’m only steerage, and I shouldn’t have intruded myself here at all, except to see this lady safe to her cabin, because she ain’t used to roughing it, as I am.’ ‘There’s no harm in saying _that_,’ she continued, as a slight pinch from Iris warned her not to go too far. ‘You are travelling in the steerage!’ exclaimed Will Farrell; ‘I _am_ sorry.’ ‘Why so, sir? It’s good enough for me. I’m not a duchess.’ ‘No! and I’m not a duke, and so I think we should have been good company for each other on the voyage, Miss Maggie.’ ‘Miss Greet, if you please, sir. I don’t hold to being called out of my name.’ ‘Miss Greet, then. However, the steerage is not far off, and so I shall still hope we may see a good deal of each other.’