The nurse made a meek show of despair and Ramsey turned upon her. "Now, mammy, this is no time—now—don't—cry."
The old woman braced up superbly. "Yass'm," persisted the waiter, "he dah now, in bed; slightly indispose'."
A rumble close below broke in upon the rhythm of the boat. "What's that?" demanded Ramsey.
"Oh, dat's on'y de aujience a-stompin' de actohs."
The next moment, a step or two down the stair, with the skylight roof still in sight as much as hidden tears would let her see it, she stopped again, to stare anxiously at another trio, coming from the bell to the captain's room.
"Da'—dat's all right," the white-jacket reassured her. "Dat's dess de cap'm, wid Mr. Hugh an' a passengeh."
"Kentucky passenger?"
"Yass'm, 'zac'ly; f'om Ca'fawnia; dat's him."
She sprang back to the deck, and the servant went his way down the stair. Hugh had left his father to proceed on the arm of the Californian and was approaching. He murmured only a preoccupied greeting and would have taken the stair, but old Joy motioned eagerly to the girl. She spoke. He stopped. "Yes, Miss Ramsey?"
"Go on," she said, "we're going that way."