When he had finished the story of his own misfortune, he went up on deck, followed by the two rescued men.
"My dear," said Mrs. March to the girl, "you must be tired out. Now you must have something to eat and then go straight to bed. My daughter can easily take you in her room."
The girl laughed, and, leaning forward, placed her hand on the speaker's knee.
"Ah t'ink das iss mos' kind, lak ma own modder. Das iss ve'y nize. How s'all Ah say no at so kind heaht? Ah t'ink Ah ahm 'mos' t'ousand year' old, and 'mos' aslip—me." Her shoulders drooped; her eyes closed. "And das iss ve'y impolite wiz so kind, good peop'!" Her eyes opened again, and begged forgiveness for the discourtesy.
"Nonsense, child!" said Mrs. March. "I should think you'd be half dead. I only hope you won't find worse trouble here; though I must say we deserve all we get for trusting ourselves on the water—we women."
"Yo' lak not doze wateh?" Miss Stromberg asked.
"Like it!" said Mrs. March. "I'm afraid every minute."
"Ah!" she murmured piteously. Her eyes caught Drew's look, and she smiled. "Yo' lak eet, maybe?" she asked him.
"Yes," he answered; "or at least until to-night. But I do not know it well."
"No?" she said.