“Isn’t there any other place vacant? At one of the smaller tables, for instance? I don’t like to sit at the long table,” said Morris, placing his finger and thumb significantly in his waistcoat pocket.
“I think that can be arranged, sir,” answered the steward, with a smile.
“Is there a place vacant at the table where that young lady is sitting alone?” said Morris, nodding in the direction.
“Well, sir, all the places are taken there; but the gentleman who has been placed at the head of the table has not come down, sir, and if you like I will change his card for yours at the long table.”
“I wish you would.”
So with that he took his place at the head of the small table, and had the indignant young lady at his right hand.
“There ought to be a master of ceremonies,” began Morris with some hesitation, “to introduce people to each other on board a steamship. As it is, however, people have to get acquainted as best they may. My name is Morris, and, unless I am mistaken, you are Miss Katherine Earle. Am I right?”
“You are right about my name,” answered the young lady, “I presume you ought to be about your own.”
“Oh, I can prove that,” said Morris, with a smile. “I have letters to show, and cards and things like that.”
Then he seemed to catch his breath as he remembered there was also a young woman on board who could vouch that his name was George Morris This took him aback for a moment, and he was silent. Miss Earle made no reply to his offer of identification.