"Operator, operator!" she cried. "I must speak to the Captain. It's a matter of life and death!" But the phone was dead.
When the alarm bells rang, she listened to the announcement and then slowly put back the useless instrument. Back in her corner, she picked up her chalk, shuffled her drawings into an orderly heap, paused, and with a wry smile dropped them all to the floor and hurried away.
A sound of crying wailed from the open door of the playroom, and she looked in to see a group of children, none of them more than six, huddled together and sobbing. She walked up to them and smiled, hands on her hips.
"Well, small fry! What are you doing up so late? Why the big howls?"
Still they cried, ignoring their abandoned toys. Around the room hobby horses sat quietly, alphabet blocks lay scattered, and picture books and sprawling dolls littered the floor.
"So," she said. "Your nurses ran out on you, did they? Left you to shift for yourselves? Never mind, youngsters, Aunt Tanya will look after you. Take hands, now, and come with me."
When the alarm rang in the Bar, a glass crashed to the floor as the only son of the deutonium millionaire jumped to his feet and ran.
