Molly wished they would stop talking about seasickness! The food looked good. A plate of cream celery soup had just been placed in front of her. It seemed all that celery soup should be, but a qualm had suddenly arisen in her soul, (at least she called it her soul,) and she decided to let the soup go and wait for the next course.
"Uncle Tom, I have met an old friend of yours on board; also an acquaintance of my own from the Art Students' League," said Pierce as soon as the business of eating was well under way.
"Is that so? I'll bet on you for nosing around to find out things! Who is the gentleman?" inquired Mr. Kinsella.
"Gentleman much! It's a lady, and a very beautiful lady at that, who complimented you greatly by saying you looked like me," laughed the boy. "Her name is Mrs. Huntington."
"Huntington? I know no one of that name that I can remember. She must be some casual acquaintance who has slipped from my memory."
"Well, maybe,—anyhow, she called you Tom. Her daughter, Miss Elise O'Brien, is my friend."
Mr. Kinsella's face flushed and his somber eyes lit up with what Molly thought an angry light.
"So," he muttered, "she has married again. Yes, yes, my boy, I—I did know a Miss Lizzie Peck in my youth who married an old friend of mine, George O'Brien. I have not seen or heard of them for years and did not know George was dead. I shall take great pleasure in meeting his little girl."
"Little! She is as tall as Miss Brown, who is certainly not stumpy, and is some years older, if I am any judge of the fair sex."
"Of course you are a judge of the fair sex, a most competent one, I should say. What boy of eighteen is not?" teased his uncle. "Where are your new acquaintances seated?"