"You have been on the bridge?" I questioned, with my eyes fixed on the brass plate which proclaimed the bridge sacred. "Oh, yes," said Mrs. Harris gaily. "It's the nicest place I know to be on, especially at this time of day. Many an early visit have I paid the captain up there, haven't I, Captain?" I lifted eyebrows at Tom, but he would not look. "Got an appetite for breakfast, Polly?" he shouted, taking my arm. "Come along, and let's see if you don't do your doctor credit." "I am not going to the saloon," I returned quietly, disengaging myself; "I am going to have my breakfast on the bridge with you." "But I'm not going to breakfast there. I'm off duty, and we may as well be comfortable when we can." Then he congratulated us both on being such good sailors as to be able to go to breakfast the first morning, and, not to make a fuss, I let him take me down into the saloon, and seat me at the public table by his side, _vis-à-vis_ with Mrs. Harris. He spoke to other passengers, shaking hands with some, and introducing me to one or two. A rather nice man talked to me throughout the meal, while Mrs. Harris monopolised Tom entirely. This was not what I had come to sea for, and so, as soon as I had finished, I slipped away, ran up to the bridge, got out a little chair, and prepared for a quiet morning with my husband, where no one had the right to disturb us. In fact, I was fully resolved to defend that bridge, if need were, against unauthorized intruders. Mrs. Harris might have done what she liked with it and him in those old times that she was for ever flinging in my face. She would not do it now. Scarcely had I opened my workbag and threaded my needle when up she came as bold as brass, with a yellow-back under her arm. It was too much. I felt that, if I were to make any stand at all, it must be now or never, or I should be altogether trodden under foot. So I looked at her with an air of calm inquiry, and said, "Oh! Mrs. Harris--do you want anything?" "No, thanks," she replied in an off-hand tone. "The steward is bringing up my chair." "Bringing it _up?--here?_" "Certainly. Why not?" "Only that--perhaps you don't know--nobody is allowed on the bridge. The notice is stuck up against the stairs." "Then why are you here?" she retorted, bristling. "I am the captain's wife." "I presume the captain's wife is as much a passenger as the rest of us," she argued, with an offensive laugh. "I presume the captain can do what he likes with his own bridge, at any rate. If _he_ gives one the freedom of the city, one certainly has it, beyond question; and I have always been accustomed to sit here when travelling with him. Thank you, steward--in this corner, please." She took possession of her chair. "If one person has the freedom of the city," I said, trying to keep my voice from shaking, "all should have it. He has no business to make distinctions where all are equal."