"Oh, it was easy enough to think of the bag. It was the last thing I put in the tray of my trunk. I was only afraid I couldn't get back with it in time. I dare say the poor wretch meant to sell those bananas at a profit when he lands, and I didn't wish to have his trade spoiled."
"But where in the world did you learn the Italian you hurled at him? He seemed to understand it, too."
"Oh, I knew a few words before I left home, and here on shipboard I have managed to pick up a few more."
Did Marion speak with embarrassment, or did Irma imagine this because she had heard of his going to the steerage for lessons?
"Addio, addio," cried the owner of the bananas, who had completed his task of packing the fruit in Marion's bag.
"Addio, addio," responded Marion, while the man, as he passed on to the gangway, poured forth a flood of thanks.
When the tender had steamed off, Irma went below. She needed a good night's rest, for breakfast was to be at half past seven.
In the misty morning the tender made a quick run to the dock. Just as they pushed away from the Ariadne Irma heard a voice crying, "Good-by, god-daughter." It was the little old gentleman. Since evening she had not seen him, and now she was ashamed that she had not tried to find him for a word of farewell.