"Gone? Why, I haven't been in, yet. You went to bed so early, Hope! It's only about half-past ten. I've been walking the deck—it's a lovely night, as soft and warm as can be."
"With Dwight?" asked Hope languidly, for in Martha Jordan's practised hands she was growing warm and drowsy again.
"N-no, not Dwight," answered Faith hesitantly. "I'll tell you about it soon. Here comes papa."
She opened the door into his cabin, and gave a cry of horrified surprise. "Oh, oh! how did it happen?"
"What?" shrieked Hope, all nerves again.
"There! Be quiet now," said her father, and entered quickly, carrying a limp little bundle of fawn and white.
"Hafiz! It's Hafiz! What has happened? Is he dead?"
"I'm afraid he is. Your Lascars turned out to be our Mohammedans, Huri and his brother, two as faithful creatures as I have on board. It seems Hafiz, for some reason, found himself weary of first-cabin passage, so made his way into the fo'castle, where a dog belonging to one of the men took after him, and hurt him badly. Huri found him and saw he must be finished, but hated to do it, and, with his brother, was discussing the matter while looking for you girls. Faith, where have you been this last hour or so?"
The girl's eyes were flooded with tears for her lost pet, and involuntarily his face softened as he turned to her. She flushed a little, but answered at once, "On the upper deck, sir."
"Ah! that was you then? I saw the couple promenading there. Well, well, you'd better keep with your sister after this, and look after your own passengers," with a glance at the dead cat, "instead of mine, eh? Now, now, Hope, don't cry so!" for, quite worn out by all this excitement, the girl was sobbing in a somewhat hysterical manner.