“Where is your aunt Jooly?” inquired the old man, hurriedly. “I thought she was coming on deck.”
“So she is,” answered Netty. “I left her in the saloon. She is quite well. She was talking to some people.”
“What, already?” exclaimed the lady's brother. And Netty nodded her head with a mystic gravity. She was looking towards the saloon stairway, from whence she seemed to expect Miss Mangles.
“My sister Jooly, sir,” explained Mr. Mangles to Cartoner, “is no doubt known to you—Miss Julia P. Mangles, of New York City.”
Cartoner tried to look as if he had heard the name before. He had lived in the United States during some months, and he knew that it is possible to be famous in New York and quite without honor in Connecticut.
“Perhaps she has not come into your line of country?” suggested Mr. Mangles, not unkindly.
“No—I think not.”
“Her line is—at present—prisons.”
“I have never been in prison,” replied Cartoner.
“No doubt you will get experience in course of time,” said Mr. Mangles, with his deep, curt laugh. “No, sir, my sister is a lecturer. She gets on platforms and talks.”