“Glad you’ve come,” said Budlong, with unhappy cordiality. “I got here this morning. Peter Skerrett said it was time for me to be on hand and gave me half his stateroom. Seasick all night; yes, sir, every minute. Peter says juicy men always are. Deuced rough off P’int Judith. Peter said it was the story in the Apocalypse, Judith, and whole infernos. Found Tim with his head very much swelled. Bad cold, he said. I told him he’d better stay in bed. He said he would till evening--had a small subscription party at nine. Asked him to take me--he said strangers had to be balloted for once a week for three weeks. I’m afraid it’s all poppycock. Mrs. B. has gone out to walk with that blasted Frenchman. Ah, here she comes now.” Mrs. Budlong entered with Auguste Henri. She dismissed her escort with a whisper and walked up to her husband, very handsome, very well dressed, perfectly at her ease, and gave him two fingers of the hand which held her parasol. “How d’ye do, pa?” said she. “You’ve left us to take care of ourselves so long that we thought you’d forgotten us. I’m sorry you didn’t let me know you were coming; you could have brought up another horse instead of Drummer.” “What’s happened to him? He’s my best horse,” said the husband thus tenderly received as master of the cavalry. “De Châteaunéant was riding him, and that rude young Dunstan, driving the Wellabouts, ran into him. Drummer was badly cut and Aug--De Châteaunéant had his--his clothes torn. He intends to punish Dunstan, who was very insolent.” “I hope he will,” said De Flournoy, rubbing his hands and brightening up. “I should like to see the beggar well thrashed”--of course it was Dunstan he meant. Mrs. De Flournoy had been quite conscious of Waddy’s presence during this colloquy. Waddy was a man whom she was willing to propitiate. She had even tried her fascinations on him early in the voyage--merely in the way of a flirtation, of course. But Ira was loyal, though not pretending to be a saint, and remained impervious to the darts which Mrs. B. shot at him from her expressive eyes. To Ira, therefore, Mrs. B. now turned, bowed gracefully and smiled pleasantly. She had the spoiling of a very fine woman in her. “We were sorry to be deprived of your society on board,” said she, with easy suavity, “even for so heroic a reason. We were hardly willing to speak to Mr. Tim Budlong after his abandoning you. But he is so aristocratic. He said he thought the little beggar might as well drown. We, of course, did not think so. I hope to see you often while you are here. We will study American society together. One of the charms of hotel life is that we can see our friends so constantly and familiarly and form agreeable intimacies.”