“Well, that is just it,” exclaimed Mrs. Bayley eagerly, welcoming her chance; and throwing back her head, she said rapidly, “do you know I don’t think it is wise to take up with that old thing. Nobody knows who she is, and it’s an awful bore for you—wastes your time and all that. Now, let me give you a piece of advice, Miss Phronsie.”
“Thank you,” said Phronsie; “but my Grandpapa is here, you know, and my brother,” she did not finish, “to whom I can apply for advice.”
Mrs. Bayley colored angrily. “But they are men, and they don’t think. Now, there are some very desirable people on board here, and Mr. Bayley and I could put you in the way of making some of the best of friends—the very best.”
Mr. Bayley made a sudden movement, and said something to his wife of which “don’t you know” was all that came to the surface.
“And at any rate,” hurried on Mrs. Bayley, as she saw Phronsie’s face, “you might amuse me. I am awfully desolée, Miss Pepper, and don’t know what to do with myself.”
Phronsie instinctively glanced at Mr. Bayley.
“Oh, he is no good!” exclaimed his wife petulantly; “all he thinks of is his cigarettes, and how soon he will be ashore to get to the horse-races.”
“Thank you,” said Livingston Bayley with a bow, “much obliged, I’m sure. Miss Pepper, don’t look shocked; it’s all right, don’t you know, I’m quite used to it, only I didn’t think she’d ring up the curtain for your benefit.” And as Phronsie made her excuses and went back, he said, “Well, that’s number one, Celestine. Wonder if you’ll try it again, don’t you know;” and strolled off.
Phronsie was back, tucking up the steamer-rug over the thin little figure in the chair marked “Miss Pepper.” “Now,” she said gayly, “you are all comfortable, you are sure, Mrs. Benson?”
“Indeed, deary, I couldn’t be more so,” said the little old lady gratefully. “And now, don’t you stay with me any more, but just go and enjoy yourself. I saw you talking with some of your fine friends just now, and you’ve left them to come to me. And it worries me, Miss Pepper.”