CHAPTER IV.—A FRIEND BY THE WAY.
Hartley,” called a cheery voice from somewhere forward. Chris was on his feet in an instant, and turning in the direction of the voice, discovered Mr. Harris and Captain Revell. It is astonishing how much can be couched in the ring of a word when one looks carefully to it; and the tone in which Mr. Harris called “Hartley” was enough to put Chris at his ease in an instant, and to make him hurry to the little gate with all fears as to his reception skurrying to the winds. Mr. Harris at once introduced him to Captain Revell, and Captain Revell as speedily informed him of the call with which Marie-Celeste had favored him and of her errand. “We are good friends, Marie-Celeste and I,” said Hartley proudly, “and I was counting on seeing something of her on the way over, but I understand now, of course, how it cannot be, and that we must content ourselves with a word now and then here at the gate, if Mr. Harris is willing.”
“But you are mistaken, Hartley,” said the captain cordially, for he took to the man the moment he saw him. “There is nothing to prevent your little friend from making you a visit whenever she likes. I have shown her the way myself through the passage below decks, and you are welcome to come forward in the same fashion whenever the bow has any attraction for you. As you are alone, you will hardly be missed from the second cabin, and it will be unnecessary to inform anyone of your special privileges;” and then the captain, who had an aversion to being thanked, moved hurriedly away before Chris had had a chance to put his gratitude into words.
“She's a fearless little body, that little daughter of ours,” said Mr. Harris at the close of the long talk he and Chris had been having at the gate. “I sometimes wonder what we had better do about it. She arrives at decisions so quickly and acts so promptly and is so outspoken, that she'll get herself and all of us into serious trouble some day, I imagine.”
“Never you fear, Mr. Harris,” said Chris warmly; “that kind do more good than harm;” and Mr. Harris believed in his heart that Chris was right. On thinking it over, he wondered too if he had not been rather easily annoyed with Marie-Celeste that morning, and if, on the whole, she had not been more brave than bold in her call upon the captain.. He would have been quite sure on that score had he known how the little heart had thumped and the little knees trembled as she made her way to the captain's room. But in any case he did not regret having put the little daughter on her guard. It would help rather than hinder that little woman's numerous projects should she learn to think twice before putting her quick resolves into action.
Meantime, Marie-Celeste herself had been making a new friend. A gentleman, entered on the passenger list as Mr. E. H. Belden, sat just at the entrance of the main stairway, a cigar poised in his left hand, a book balanced in his right; the book closed for the moment, with his forefinger marking the place, and his elbow resting on the arm of his steamer-chair. To all appearances, Mr. E. H. Belden was absorbed in meditation, and presumably in a line of thought suggested by the book be had temporarily suspended reading—a line of thought, at any rate, that made him wholly oblivious to his surroundings. It was somewhat of a surprise, therefore, for him to find his book flying out of one hand with a momentum that swept the cigar out of the other; but he did not need to look far or long for an explanation. “Oh, I'm so sorry,” gasped a breathless little body, as quickly as she could reverse engines and bring herself in front of the offended party. “It was very careless of me. I slipped because I tried to turn too short a corner. Please let me get the book for you,” and she bounded to the spot where it had landed, while Mr. Belden, detecting a faint scorching odor, hastened to rescue the lighted cigar from the folds of a steamer rug lying on the next chair.