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‘You wouldn’t accept it even in the case I put to him–that of her believing she had been encouraged to throw over poor Porterfield?’

‘Not even–not even. Who knows what she believes?’

‘Then you do exactly what I said you would–you show me a fine example of maternal immorality.’

‘Maternal fiddlesticks! It was she began it.’

‘Then why did you come up to-day?’

‘To keep you quiet.’

Mrs. Nettlepoint’s dinner was served on deck, but I went into the saloon. Jasper was there but not Grace Mavis, as I had half expected. I asked him what had become of her, if she were ill (he must have thought I had an ignoble pertinacity), and he replied that he knew nothing whatever about her. Mrs. Peck talked to me about Mrs. Nettlepoint and said it had been a great interest to her to see her; only it was a pity she didn’t seem more sociable. To this I replied that she had to beg to be excused–she was not well.

‘You don’t mean to say she’s sick, on this pond?’

‘No, she’s unwell in another way.’

‘I guess I know the way!’ Mrs. Peck laughed. And then she added, ‘I suppose she came up to look after her charge.’

‘Her charge?’

‘Why, Miss Mavis. We’ve talked enough about that.’

‘Quite enough. I don’t know what that had to do with it. Miss Mavis hasn’t been there to-day.’

‘Oh, it goes on all the same.’

‘It goes on?’

‘Well, it’s too late.’

‘Too late?’

‘Well, you’ll see. There’ll be a row.’

This was not comforting, but I did not repeat it above. Mrs. Nettlepoint returned early to her cabin, professing herself much tired. I know not what ‘went on,’ but Grace Mavis continued not to show. I went in late, to bid Mrs. Nettlepoint good-night, and learned from her that the girl had not been to her. She had sent the stewardess to her room for news, to see if she were ill and needed assistance, and the stewardess came back with the information that she was not there. I went above after this; the night was not quite so fair and the deck was almost empty. In a moment Jasper Nettlepoint and our young lady moved past me together. ‘I hope you are better!’ I called after her; and she replied, over her shoulder–

‘Oh, yes, I had a headache; but the air now does me good!’

I went down again–I was the only person there but they, and I wished to not appear to be watching them–and returning to Mrs. Nettlepoint’s room found (her door was open into the little passage) that she was still sitting up.

‘She’s all right!’ I said. ‘She’s on the deck with Jasper.’

The old lady looked up at me from her book. ‘I didn’t know you called that all right.’

‘Well, it’s better than something else.’

‘Something else?’

‘Something I was a little afraid of.’ Mrs. Nettlepoint continued to look at me; she asked me what that was. ‘I’ll tell you when we are ashore,’ I said.

The next day I went to see her, at the usual hour of my morning visit, and found her in considerable agitation. ‘The scenes have begun,’ she said; ‘you know I told you I shouldn’t get through without them! You made me nervous last night–I haven’t the least idea what you meant; but you made me nervous. She came in to see me an hour ago, and I had the courage to say to her, “I don’t know why I shouldn’t tell you frankly that I have been scolding my son about you.” Of course she asked me what I meant by that, and I said–“It seems to me he drags you about the ship too much, for a girl in your position. He has the air of not remembering that you belong to some one else. There is a kind of want of taste and even of want of respect in it.” That produced an explosion; she became very violent.’

‘Do you mean angry?’