“Oh, yes. Such a pretty little girl baby! They have been shut up in their stateroom for a week on account of the mother’s seasickness. She is out on deck to-day for the first time. When I saw a new face there I thought it was hers, but was not certain, so I passed her by. But a little later, when I saw the stewardess place a young infant in her arms, then I felt almost certain, and I went up and spoke to her. A prodigal daughter, I fear she is, but a most interesting one, and her father is to meet her at Liverpool and——” “Lamia,” interrupted the man, “suppose we drop the subject. I am not at all interested in your charity girl.” He yawned with a bored air. “Oh, very well; what shall we talk about? The end of the voyage? Well, I heard the captain say that we shall be at Queenstown to-morrow morning.” “And we shall get off at Queenstown; do you hear?” “At Queenstown? But why, when our tickets are for Liverpool?” “Because I will it to be so!” said the man, in the sullen wilfulness of intoxication. “Oh, very well! Quite right! So be it!” replied Lamia, with contemptuous submission. And the discussion ended. She loosened her dress and laid herself down on the lower berth to take an afternoon nap. He sat on the sofa, with the brandy bottle before him, and drank and drank and drank. That evening Gentleman Geff was much too drunk to go into the dining saloon, yet with the fatuity of drunkenness he insisted on doing so, and he reeled out of his stateroom and through the cabin and up the stairs. But had it not been for Lamia’s strong support he could never have reached his seat at their table. Lamia was like Burns’ Nanny: “A handsome jaud and strang,” and she succeeded in setting him safe in his seat, where he sat bloated, blear-eyed, and luckily stupid, instead of hilarious or quarrelsome. Every one at table noticed his condition, and— “What a pity! What a pity!” was thought or whispered by one or another. It was a severe ordeal for Lamia, yet the trial was softened by the thought that all the sympathies of the company were with her, all the condemnation for him. She was glad at last when she succeeded in drawing him away from the table to the privacy of their stateroom, where he fell upon the sofa and sank into the heavy sleep of intoxication. Lamia felt too bitterly humiliated to return to the saloon or go on deck, so she remained in the stateroom, reading a French book until it was time to retire. Then she turned into her berth, leaving the stupefied inebriate to sleep off the fumes of his brandy, lying on the sofa dressed as he was. Jennie Montgomery sat on deck with her baby on her knees until the fading day and the freshening breeze warned her to seek shelter in the cabin. Then she took her child to her stateroom, where soon after both were rocked to sleep by the rolling of the ship. It was a dark night, partly overclouded, and with but few stars shining.