The Captain of the Kansas

GROSSET & DUNLAP
Copyright, 1906, by
Entered at Stationers’ Hall
“I think I shall enjoy this trip,” purred Isobel Baring, nestling comfortably among the cushions of her deck chair. A steward was arranging tea for two at a small table. The Kansas , with placid hum of engines, was speeding evenly through an azure sea.
“I agree with that opinion most heartily, though, to be sure, so much depends on the weather,” replied her friend, Elsie Maxwell, rising to pour out the tea. Already the brisk sea-breeze had kissed the Chilean pallor from Elsie’s face, which had regained its English peach-bloom. Isobel Baring’s complexion was tinged with the warmth of a pomegranate. At sea, even in the blue Pacific, she carried with her the suggestion of a tropical garden.
“I never gave a thought to the weather,” purred Isobel again, as she subsided more deeply into the cushions.
“Let us hope such a blissful state of mind may be justified. But you know, dear, we may run into a dreadful gale before we reach the Straits.”
Isobel laughed.
“All the better!” she cried. “People tell me I am a most fascinating invalid. I look like a creamy orchid. And what luck to have a chum so disinterested as you where a lot of nice men are concerned! What have I done to deserve it? Because you are really charming, you know.”
“Does that mean that you have already discovered a lot of nice men on board?”
Elsie handed her friend a cup of tea and a plate of toast.
“Naturally. While you were mooning over the lights and tints of the Andes, I kept an eye, both eyes in fact, on our compulsory acquaintances of the next three weeks. To begin with, there’s the captain.”