Down in the saloon, half-a-dozen kindred spirits are drinking the cup that cheers etc., dispensed by the pretty little hands of a pretty little woman, the wife of a colonel returning from a six months’ European tour, charged with quantities of nice new dresses and a freshly-whetted appetite and zest for flirtation. She has helped to “get up” theatricals on board, and played her part to admiration; she sings delightfully piquante French songs to an audience of enthralled fellow-passengers; she tells amusing little stories about the other ladies in her cabin to her ravished listeners; she treats everything as a joke--even Sir Reginald Fairfax amuses her. He avoids all the ladies, never speaks to them, and keeps aloof from the fair sex in a manner that stimulates her vanity and her curiosity alike. However, she has overcome circumstances, and by a propitiously-dropped book made his acquaintance, and finds that “he is altogether charming, and every bit as nice as he looks.” This she explains to the lady at the next washing-stand, as she dresses elaborately for dinner. Sir Reginald is compelled to come to five o’clock tea--there is no escape for him--and he submits to circumstances with as good a grace as he can muster. Behold the picture Alice would have seen, had second sight been vouchsafed to her: Pretty, very pretty Mrs. Wynyard, in a dressy pink cotton, pouring out tea at the end of one of the saloon tables for the benefit of two ladies and five gentlemen, who are all in the highest possible spirits, and discussing the lottery that they are getting up on passing Perim. Her husband is the object of Mrs. Wynyard’s most marked civilities; he has been deputed to cut the cake, and is fulfilling the task with wonderful skill and alacrity, and is laughing and talking with as much animation as anyone else. For the moment he has cast care behind him and closed his eyes to the past; and, indeed, care is but a sorry associate for a young man of five-and-twenty. * * * * * To leave the tea-party on board the _Alligator_, and return to Alice in the railway carriage, does not take us more than a second. Whilst her face is steadfastly turned away from the new arrivals, they have been regarding her with a long exhaustive stare. “Who are these young people?” they ask themselves with the intolerance of people in their own county. “The girl is well dressed, and might be good-looking if she had more colour and not those dark rings round her eyes,” was their mental verdict. These ladies themselves, attired in fashion’s latest _hint_ of fashion, by no means disdained to bring art (and a good deal of art) to the aid of nature.