Ill as the mistress was, the maid was even worse, and it was pitiful to see the poor creature's efforts to obey the exigent demands of her employer. In the end faintness overcame her, and if Claire had not rushed to the rescue, she would have fallen on the floor. "It's no use struggling against it! You must keep still until the boat stops. You'll feel better at once when we land, and you get into the air." Claire laid the poor soul in her bunk, and turned back to the old lady who was momentarily growing younger and more formidable, as she continued the stages of her toilette. "Can I help you?" she asked smilingly, and the offer was accepted with gracious composure. "Please do. I should be grateful. Thank you. That hook fastens over here, and the band crosses to this side. The brooch is in my bag--a gold band with some diamonds--and the hat-pins, and a clean handkerchief. Can you manage? ... The clasp slides back." Claire opened the bag and gazed with admiration at a brown _moire_ antique lining, and fittings of tortoiseshell, bearing raised monograms in gold. "I shall have one exactly to match, when I marry my duke!" was the mental reflection, as she selected the articles mentioned and put the final touches to the good lady's costume. Later on there was Mason to be dressed; later on still, Claire found herself carrying the precious dressing-bag in one hand, and supporting one invalid with the other, while Mason tottered in the wake, unable for the moment to support any other burden than that of her own body. Mrs Fanshawe--Claire had discovered the name on a printed card let into the lining of the bag--had no sympathy to spare for poor Mason. She plainly considered it the height of bad manners for a maid to dare to be sea-sick; but being unused to do anything for herself, gratefully allowed Claire to lead the way, reply to the queries of custom-house officials, secure a corner of a first-class compartment of the waiting train, and bid an attendant bring a cup of tea before the ordinary breakfast began. Mason refused any refreshment, but Mrs Fanshawe momentarily regained her vigour, and was all that was gracious in her acknowledgment of Claire's help. The quizzical eyes roved over the girl's face and figure, and evidently approved what they saw, and Claire, smiling back, was conscious of an answering attraction. Thoughtless and domineering as was her behaviour to her inferior, there was yet something in the old lady's personality which struck an answering chord in the girl's heart. She was enough of a physiognomist to divine the presence of humour and generosity, combined with a persistent cheerfulness of outlook. The signs of physical age were unmistakable, but the spirit within was young, young as her own! The mutual scrutiny ended in a mutual laugh, which was the last breaking of the ice.