"Mamma," she began, "the first officer says that if you are willing he will take me across to the bows to see the rainbows on the foam. May I go? He says Anne can go too."
"Yes, certainly, if Mr. Graves will take charge of you. But first speak to this young lady, who is the sister of Mr. Young, who was so kind about playing ship-coil with you yesterday, and tell her you are glad she is able to be on deck. Then you can go, Amy."
Amy turned a pair of beautiful, long-lashed, gray eyes on Imogen.
"I'm glad you're better, Miss Young. Mamma and I were sorry you were so sick," she said, with a frank politeness that was charming. "It must be very disagreeable."
"Haven't you been sick, then?" said Imogen, holding fast the little hand that was put in hers.
"No, I'm never sick now. I was, though, the first time we came over, and I behaved awfully. Do you recollect, mamma?"
"Only too well," said her mother, laughing. "You were like a caged bird, beating yourself against the bars in desperation."
Amy lingered a moment, while a dimple played in her pink cheek as if she were moved by some amusing remembrance.
"Ah, there's Mr. Graves," she said. "I must go. I'll come back presently and tell you about the rainbows, mamma."
"I suppose most of these people on board are Americans," said Imogen after a little pause. "It's always easy to tell them, don't you think?"