"My cabin is forty-two," said Marjorie, who was once more a tourist, on her way upstairs.
"Here is a steward," said Delight, "he will show us the way."
The steward was invisible, but either of the girls spoke in his voice, as occasion demanded.
"This way, madam," said Midget, as she led Delight to the door of her own room. "This is your stateroom, and I hope it will suit you."
"Is it an outside one?" asked Delight, who had travelled on night boats, though not across the ocean.
"Yes, ma'am. Outside and inside both. Where is your steamer trunk?"
"It will be sent up, I suppose."
"Yes, ma'am. Very good, ma'am. Now, you can be steward to me, Delight."
"Shure. This way, mum. It's Oirish, I am, but me heart is warrum. Shall I carry the baby for ye?"
"Yes," said Midget, giggling at Delight's Irish brogue, which was always funny; "but be careful. The child isn't well." The child was Blackberry, who was dressed in large white muffler of Mrs. Spencer's pinned 'round its neck.