He took the question under advisement, with a gravity suitable to its import. "Not just the same," he decided, "not as--as anxiously." "But you'd have come?" "Oh, yes, I'd have come." "I thought so." Her voice was strange. There was a pause. "Do you know you're a most exasperating person? It wouldn't make any difference to you who a woman was, if she needed help, whether she was in the steerage--" He leaped to his feet. "The baby!" he cried, "and his mother. I'd forgotten." On the word he was gone. Little Miss Grouch looked after him, and there was a light in her eyes which no human being had ever surprised there--and which would have vastly surprised herself had she appreciated the purport of it. In five minutes he was back, having calmly violated one of the most rigid of ship's rules, in bringing steerage passengers up to the first cabin. "Here's the Unparalleled Urchin," he announced, "right as a trivet. Here, let's make a little camp." He pulled around a settee, established the frightened but quiet mother and the big-eyed child on it, drew up a chair for himself next to the girl and said, "Now we can wait comfortably for whatever comes." News it was that came, in the course of half an hour. An official, the genuineness of whose relief was patent, announced that the leak was above water-line, that it was being patched, that the ship was on her way and that there was absolutely no danger, his statement being backed up by the resumed throb of the engines and the sound of many hammers on the port side. Stateroom holders in D and E, however, he added, would best arrange to remain in the saloon until morning. So the Tyro conveyed his adoptive charges back to the steerage, and returned to his other and more precious charge. There he found Judge Enderby in attendance. "Isn't there something more I can get from your room?" the Tyro asked of Little Miss Grouch, after he had greeted the judge. She shook her head with a smile. "So the dumb has found a tongue, eh?" remarked the lawyer. "Emergency use only," explained the Tyro. "Well, my legal advice," pursued the jurist with a reassuring grimace at the girl, "is that you can make hay while the moon shines, for I don't think any officer is going to concern himself with your little affair just at present. But my personal advice," he added significantly, "in the interests of your own peace of mind, is that you go and sit on the rudder the rest of the voyage. Safety first!" "I think he's an awfully queer old man," pouted Little Miss Grouch, as the judge sauntered away. "Don't abuse my counsel," said the Tyro. "He isn't your counsel. He's my counsel. I paid him five whole dollars to be." "Hoots, lassie! I paid him ten." "You want my house," said Little Miss Grouch, aggrieved, "and you want my lawyer. Is there anything else of mine you'd like to lay claim to?"