“We are all here except Marie-Jeanne,” observed Billie, determined to draw the forlorn young girl into their pleasures.
“My daughter is not well. She is in her stateroom,” put in Mrs. Jones.
The deck was marked and the game soon in full swing. Mary Price slipped away and went down to the Jones’ stateroom, which was one of the less expensive kind somewhere in the depths of the ship. There were no second cabin passengers on board.
Mary tapped timidly on the door, which was flung open almost instantly by Marie-Jeanne herself. There was a flush on her cheeks and she looked almost pretty for the first time since Mary had known her.
“Oh,” she exclaimed, “I thought you were the stewardess. Does mother want me?”
“Oh, no,” answered Mary. “I came down to see how you were. Your mother said you were not well.”
Marie-Jeanne’s face flushed angrily.
“I am quite——” she began, and interrupted herself with a hopeless little gesture. “It was sweet of you to come down. I’m not used to such attentions. You see, I’m doing housework,—washing clothes this morning.”
Mary slipped her arm around the other’s waist.
“I believe you are happier when you are working, Marie-Jeanne,” she said.