Now Susan was hungry, for it was past dinnertime, and she had breakfasted early. She knew that Maria had brought sandwiches and buns with her, but in her hasty retreat she had taken the bag, and had evidently forgotten all about it. She looked hesitatingly at the biscuit which her companion had broken in halves, and was now holding on the paper in front of her. It was the French gentleman’s only biscuit—ought she to take it?
He guessed what was passing in her mind, and smiled kindly at her, nodding his head.
“If you will eat with me I shall have better appetite,” he said. “It is perhaps a little dry—but after all, if one is hungry!—”
He shrugged his shoulders without finishing the sentence, and Susan took the half-biscuit, finding when she began it that she was even hungrier than she thought. She was still hungry when it was all gone, and she felt sure the French gentleman could easily have eaten more. She would have liked to offer him some of her sandwiches or a bun, but there was still no sign of Maria.
So hour after hour went by, until, late in the afternoon, her companion told her they were getting near Ramsgate.
“In one quarter of an hour we shall be at the pier. The journey will then be over. The passage has been fine and tranquil.”
But poor Maria had not found it so, for it was not until the steamer was stopping that she appeared on deck looking very white, and staggering about helplessly. It was fortunate, therefore, that Susan’s new friend was there, and that she herself could point out the luggage, for Maria had now quite lost her head, and was of no use at all.
The French gentleman, however, was most active and kind in their service, and did not leave them till they were safely in a cab with their property. Even then Maria had forgotten the address, and it was Susan who said:
“It is Belmont Cottage, Chatham Road.”
“Ah!” exclaimed Susan’s friend; “it is the house of Madame Enticknapp! We shall then perhaps meet again, ma petite amie.”