V. F. M.
for dogs and children; a crèche in which to immure children and those doomed to attend them, a suitably arranged receptacle in each cabin for the passenger’s dog. On a certain cross-Channel route, between Ireland and England, I had, before the War, established myself and my dogs on a sound basis. The dear Stewardess, with whom this was arranged, is now dead, so without injury to her I can reveal the relations between us. You must picture me as lurking, with two small white dogs in a leash, in some obscure spot beneath the bridge. I have secured a cabin, and during the confusion prior to getting under way I rush into it with the dogs. I then establish them in a rug under a seat. The Stewardess enters—we converse affably. (One of these many journeys took place on the same day that Queen Victoria crossed the Irish Sea to pay her last visit to Ireland. I mentioned the fact to the Stewardess. “Why, then, I hope she’ll have a good crossing, the poor gerr’l!” replied the Stewardess, benignantly.)
To return to the dogs. They, being well trained, have instantly composed themselves for sleep. The Stewardess, equally well trained, ignores them, only, when leaving the cabin, saying firmly, “Now, I don’t see them dogs. I never seen them at all.”
Then she leaves. Later, the vessel having started, and I having retired to my berth, the door is softly opened. In the darkness I hear the Stewardess’s voice hiss, in the thinnest of whispers, “Have ye their tickets?” I reply in equally gnat-like tones, “I have!” “I’ll take them, so,” she replies. And all is well.
It was this same Stewardess, in the course of my first crossing with her, of whom I wrote to Martin as follows. The subject is not strictly within the scope of this chapter, but, as may have been observed, I have absolved myself from limitations such as this.
E. Œ. S. to V. F. M. (May, 1890.)
“The Stewardess, in the course of much friendly converse, said, ‘Well, and I suppose ye’re coming back from school, now?’
“I concealed my deep gratification at the supposition, and said ‘No—that I was done with school for some time.’ ‘Well then, I suppose you are too’—(clearly thinking I was offended at the inference)—‘I suppose you’re too big now to be going to school!’
“Then I said I had never gone to school; whereat she put her helm hard down, and began to abuse school-girls with much heartiness, and said they gave more trouble than any other passengers.