“Tuppence!” bawled a rude steward, slamming down a knife and fork.
Grandma could hardly believe it.
“Twopence each?” she asked.
“That’s right,” said the steward, and he winked at his companion.
Grandma made a small, astonished face. Then she whispered primly to Fenella. “What wickedness!” And they sailed out at the further door and along a passage that had cabins on either side. Such a very nice stewardess came to meet them. She was dressed all in blue, and her collar and cuffs were fastened with large brass buttons. She seemed to know grandma well.
“Well, Mrs. Crane,” said she, unlocking their washstand. “We’ve got you back again. It’s not often you give yourself a cabin.”
“No,” said grandma. “But this time my dear son’s thoughtfulness—”
“I hope—” began the stewardess. Then she turned round and took a long, mournful look at grandma’s blackness and at Fenella’s black coat and skirt, black blouse, and hat with a crape rose.
Grandma nodded. “It was God’s will,” said she.
The stewardess shut her lips and, taking a deep breath, she seemed to expand.