Mrs. Le Roy-Jones turned coldly away from her daughter, who was a plain girl and wore her fussy clothes with a discontented air.
“Here he comes,” called Feargus. “He is a funny little chap with such old ways. I talked with him a moment this morning, but his guardians are so careful they won’t let any one come near him.”
“Who is the child?” asked Miss Campbell, at last revived from a morning nap.
“I tell you, we don’t know, Cousin. Nobody has ever taken the trouble to look him up on the passenger list. He is called Arthur by the tall man in blue, and that’s all we know.”
Mr. Kalisch shook back his shaggy hair and looked carefully at the little boy, who now approached walking between two tall young Englishmen.
Just as the child came opposite the company, he stopped and put his hand to his heart. His face turned very pale and tears came into his eyes.
The two young men were so engrossed in their conversation that they did not notice him swaying dizzily. It was Mr. Kalisch who caught him in his arms.
“Oh, my heart! My heart!” cried the little fellow.
In a moment the other passengers had surrounded him, as people will do at such times, partly from curiosity, partly from sympathy.
“Give him air, my friends,” called Mr. Kalisch, as he laid Arthur on a steamer rug that Billie had spread on the deck for the purpose.