It may have been accident--the unprincipled opportunist of a godling who rules these matters will league himself with any chance--that the Tyro's eyes fell upon her hand, which lay, pink and warmly half-curled in her lap, and remained there. It certainly was not accident that the hand was hastily moved. "Do you suppose Baby Karl and his mother are safe?" she inquired, in a voice of extreme detachment. "Just as safe as we are. By the way, you heard what Judge Enderby suggested to me about 'safety first'?" Her face took on an expression of the severest innocence. "No. Something stupid, I dare say." "He advised me to go and sit on the rudder for the rest of the voyage." "Wouldn't it be awfully wet--and lonely?" "Unspeakably. Particularly the latter." "Then I wouldn't do it," she counseled. "I won't," he promised. "But, Miss Grouch, the dry land may be just as lonely as the wet ocean." "Haven't you any friends in Europe?" "No. Unless you count Lord Guenn one." "You never met him until I introduced you, did you?" "No. But he's asked me to come and visit him at Guenn Oaks." "Has he! Why?" The Tyro laughed. "There's something very unflattering about your surprise. Not for my _beaux yeux_ alone. It seems he's sort of inherited me from a careless ancestor." "_I_ came to him by marriage." "So he tells me. Also that you're going to Guenn Oaks." "Yes." "Well?" "Why 'well'? I didn't say anything." "You didn't. I'm waiting to hear you." "What?" "Tell me whether I'm to go or not." "What have I to do with it?" "Everything." "Your servitude ends the moment we touch land." "It will never end," said the Tyro in a low voice. Little Miss Grouch peeked up at him from under the fascinating, slanted brows, and immediately regretted her indiscretion. What she saw in his face stirred within her a sweet and tremulous panic, the like of which she had not before experienced. "Please don't look at me like that," she said petulantly. "What will people think?" "People are, for once, minding their own businesses, bless 'em." "Well, anyway, you make me n-n-nervous." "Am I to come to Guenn Oaks?" "I'll tell you to-morrow," she fenced. "To-morrow I shan't be speaking to you." "Why not?--oh, I forgot. Still, you might write," she dimpled. "Would you answer?" "I'll consider it." "How long would consideration require?" "Was there ever such a human question-mark! Please, kind sir, I'm awfully tired and sleepy. Won't you let me off now?" "Forgive me," said the Tyro with such profound contrition that the Wondrous Vision's heart smote her, for she had said, in her quest of means of defense, the thing which most distinctly was not true.