“Now, Miss Earle, I hope that you will like this chutney sauce. You see there is some difficulty in getting it, and that of itself ought to be a strong recommendation for it.” “It is a little too hot to suit me,” answered the young lady, trying the Indian sauce, “still, there is a pleasant flavour about it that I like.” “Oh, you are all right,” said Morris, jauntily; “you will be a victim of the chutney habit before two days. People who dislike it at first are its warmest advocates afterwards. I use the word warmest without any allusion to the sauce itself, you know. I shall now try some myself.” As he looked round the table for the large bottle, he saw that it had been whisked away by steward number two, and now stood on the other table. Miss Earle laughed. “Oh, I shall have it in a moment,” said the young man. “Do you think it is worth while?” “Worth while? Why, that is the excitement of a chutney fight. It is not that we care for chutney at all, but that we simply are bound to have it. If there were a bottle of chutney at every table, the delights of chutney would be gone. Steward,” said Morris, as that functionary appeared, “the chutney, please.” The steward cast a rapid glance at the other table, and waited until steward number two had disappeared. Then Morris had his chutney. Steward number two, seeing his precious bottle gone, tried a second time to stealthily obtain possession of it, but Morris said to him in a pleasant voice, “That’s all right, steward, we are through with the chutney. Take it along, please. So that,” continued Mr. Morris, as Miss Earle rose from the table, “that is your first experience of a chutney fight—one of the delights of ocean travel.” Fourth Day