"Ah! I am very glad to see that. It is just the thing for Tiger."
Then she turned round and said to the waiter,—
"Can I take a piece of this meat to give to my kitten?"
"Your kitten?" said the waiter. "Have you got a kitten on board?"
"Yes," said Jane.
"Where is she?" asked the waiter.
"I left her in the cabin," said Jane, "by the end of a sofa. She is in her cage."
The waiter smiled to hear this statement. Jane had been, in fact, a little afraid to ask for meat for her kitten, supposing it possible that the waiter might think that she ought not to have brought a kitten on board. But the truth was, the waiter was very glad to hear of it. He was glad for two reasons. In the first place, the monotony and dulness of sea life are so great, that those who live in ships are usually glad to have any thing occur that is extraordinary or novel. Then, besides, he knew that it was customary with passengers, when they gave the waiters any unusual trouble, to compensate them for it fully when they reached the end of the voyage; and he presumed, therefore, that if he had a kitten to take care of, as well as the children themselves, their father, whom he had no doubt was on board would remember it in his fee. So, when Jane told him where the kitten was, he said he would go and bring her out into the dining saloon, and give her some of the meat there, as soon as the passengers had finished their luncheon, so that he could be spared from the table.
Accordingly, when the proper time arrived, the waiter went aft, to the cabin, and very soon returned, bringing the cage with him.
He seemed quite pleased with his charge; and several of the passengers, who met him as they were going out of the saloon, stopped a moment to see what he had got in the cage, and Jane was much gratified at hearing one of them say,—