Meanwhile Mr. Withersq had rather sidled away towards a nice little girl in a cream frock very low and fluffy, and had talked to her and she had opened wide great eyes of amaze to him to hear so great a poet speak ordinary. He was now muttering something with many muffled laughs to a very tall oldish man in a suit of pearl grey silk, and munching a fish sandwich which from time to time he dipped in a glass of champagne he had had brought him by a menial attired as a sailor. From the chair in which she had sunk Selia pawed at her Harold’s near trouser. So he passed her down some food which she wolfed up. Then as she was tired and could not make out much of the various persons around who were all smoking long cigarettes and by their talk seemed to have endless little private jokes of their own, she went off to bed, which was down some steep brass-tipped stairs with a rope bannister, into the bowels of the boat. Imagine her surprise when she opened her room door to find Scrogg knitting a sock within. “Goodday” cried Scrogg springing up and ready to unfasten her, and “Goodevening” said Selia stifling her yawn with a smile “how did ever you come here Scrogg?” “I thought you would like me” said Scrogg humbly, “so I came up the river in a little row-boat I keep for emergencies.” “I see” said Selia “that was very nice of you I’m sure. I am very tired though.” “No wonder madame” said the maid throwing her pink Greecian nightdress over her head nimbly, “with so many clever people about, for the Countess only has the first class cream at her boat parties.” “Hurrah” cried Selia “what a funny pillow!” and lo the bed she jumped in was built to the wall like a real boat’s bed and her pillow was like a life-buoy but made in feathers with a white linen cover and frilled with real lace. Scrogg then quickly fixed up a hammock across the little room, under the round window, and went to bed in it, and thus to the sound of the slapping waves mistress and maid snoozed while Mr. Withersq talked of his poetry to the company on deck, still all swigging champagne till the early hours. Selia slept late next day for the fresh air made her drowsy and only peeped out of her bed in time to hear in the distance the loud end of Mr. Bross’s Sunday morning song and the applause after it. Scrogg then entered with a tray of rolls and coffee. “The Countess asked me to tell you the song was a great success” she said with her usual curtsey, “it was in Yiddish this week.” “Oh” said Selia rubbing her eyes up for the day, “how clever!” for she unluckily did not know where this was spoken. When she had just finished up her breakfast a thunderous knock sounded on her door and Scrogg opened. “Dear me” said this good servant, for who should stand there but Mr. Withersq in a grand navy bathing costume embroidered with anchors and wearing canvas boots. Selia modestly hid in her bed.