“I can’t quite make out about that. Sometimes I fancy it is so, and then I don’t know what to think. But Effie has been ill all the summer, and though Cyril used to go and see her pretty often, I could never make out if they cared for one another. Effie’s never been allowed to talk about the fire, so I don’t know if she saw or remembered what Cyril did then. I don’t much believe that Cyril cares for anybody but himself; only May is well born, and Effie is an heiress. It’s those things he thinks about.” “Sheila, Sheila, don’t be cynical!” “Well, I’ve heard people say so. Even Ray said something very like that. Ray is sensible; she doesn’t go down flat before the family idol. She is fond of Cyril, but she sees his faults. She and North have really much more in them than Raby and Cyril.” Sheila enjoyed her little gossip with Miss Adene, and was almost reluctant to go to bed. However, when once there she slept soundly, and only awoke when the stewardess brought her a cup of morning tea. “It’s pretty rough, miss, but fine and sunny. Not weather as sailors call it, but a capful of wind right in our faces. If you feel like getting up, I’ll bring you hot water; but most of the ladies are lying still, even those that aren’t ill.” But Sheila was all for getting up, though she staggered about her narrow little cabin, and was glad to sit down as much as she could, for the vessel pitched and lurched a good deal, and her hairpins went flying over the floor, and her clothes swayed and flapped in a comic manner. But once up and out in the breezy sunshine, all the little dizziness of getting up vanished. Ronald was on deck before her, and welcomed her with a most friendly smile, and little Guy was trotting about, the pet and plaything of the captain, who had found him a ship’s cap, vastly too large for him, which was tied on his head by a broad ribbon. Sheila was the only lady up at breakfast, and was made much of by the captain and the other passengers. She was full of sparkle and fun, was delighted to be taken to various mysterious portions of the boat where passengers seldom ventured, and spent a perfectly delightful morning, learning a vast deal of nautical lore, and winning the good-will of everybody on board. She flitted into the cabins where Effie and Miss Adene lay. Effie was quite comfortable, but indisposed for the exertion of getting up in such a rough-and-tumble sea. Miss Adene rose for lunch, but was a little disinclined for talk, and Lady Dumaresq did not appear at all that day. But soon they passed through the troubled Bay; the water became calm and smiling; one after another the passengers appeared; and Effie would lie on her deck-chair all day, watching the indigo blue of the great Atlantic rollers, which lifted them gently up and let them down, and shone with rainbow tints when the sunlight caught their foam-flecked crests.