“Where are you going?”
“To the cabin. Do you want anything brought up?”
“No.”
The girl was longer than two minutes, but she was no less surprised when, upon her reappearance with a small hand-bag, she found Cheviot talking to Mrs. Locke. “The current is carrying the ice out all right. Probably the only danger is the passengers making fools of themselves. But if they’ll only go quietly to bed—”
“They won’t,” said Mrs. Locke. The two discussed this quite in the tone of being allies. “Nobody will go to bed to-night,” she assured him.
“What do they want to do?” he demanded.
“Sit up till one in the morning,” Mrs. Locke answered, “and see the tide float us off the bar.”
“Well, the women at all events”—Cheviot looked about with an air of relief—“the women have gone to bed already.”
“No, indeed,” said Hildegarde. “They’re tumbling over one another down in the saloon, in and out of the state-rooms collecting their things. Some are saying their prayers, and some—”
“Do you sing?” Cheviot demanded.