"You come along in here," she commanded, stretching out her bony hand, and taking her by the wrist. "Steward, send my maid at once," and the cabin door closed on the pair—the wolf, and the lamb!
"You shall have dry things immediately," said Mrs. De Wolfe, "and Haynes shall make you up a bed on the sofa here."
"Thank you, ma'am, you are very kind," chattered Nancy, whose teeth were like a pair of castanets.
"Take a towel and dry your hair, Haynes will be here in a moment."
Almost as her mistress spoke, Haynes made her appearance in a trim red flannel dressing-gown, and took the matter in hand with quiet promptitude. Nancy soon found herself invested in a beautiful silk and lace nightgown, which she regarded with unspeakable awe.
"It's quite all right, chicken," declared the old lady who had returned to her berth, "I wear plain upper garments, and keep the show for what I call my 'Undies.' It fits you to a T. Better sleep with the towel round your head. How on earth do you manage to hide all that hair!"
"Less talking!" growled a voice from the neighbouring cabin.
"Haynes, you'll bring two teas at half-past seven," continued Mrs. De Wolfe, totally unmoved by this command, "and now you may turn out the light, and go."
In the ensuing darkness, Nancy was able to reflect at leisure upon her novel position. She was actually sleeping in the cabin—and the nightgown—of the woman she most feared and avoided of all the passengers on board the Patna. Yet in spite of her overpowering personality, she had proved to be a good Samaritan, and not so alarming after all; consoled by this conviction, Nancy dozed off.
In the morning, Haynes—a celebrated Treasure—brought Nancy a cup of delicious "private" tea, and when she had drunk it, and thanked her hostess for a night's lodging, she slipped on her dressing-gown, and fled into her own quarters—once more habitable.