In a Steamer Chair | Page 8

do not expert to be a _habitué_ of the smoking-room," said Miss
Earle. "Nevertheless, you have a friend who will be, and so in that way,
you see, you will enjoy the advantages of belonging to the smoking
club."
A few moments afterwards, Morris appeared with a camp-stool under
his arm, and two cups of coffee in his hands. Miss Earle noticed the
smile suddenly fade from his face, and a look of annoyance, even of
terror, succeed it. His hands trembled, so that the coffee spilled from
the cup into the saucer.
"Excuse my awkwardness," he said huskily; then, handing her the cup,
he added, "I shall have to go now. I will see you at breakfast-time.
Good morning." With the other cup still in his hand, he made his way
to the stair.
Miss Earle looked around and saw, coming up the deck, a very
handsome young lady with blonde hair.

THIRD DAY.
On the morning of the third day, Mr. George Morris woke up after a
sound and dreamless sleep. He woke up feeling very dissatisfied with
himself, indeed. He said he was a fool, which was probably true enough,
but even the calling himself so did not seem to make matters any better.
He reviewed in his mind the events of the day before. He remembered
his very pleasant walk and talk with Miss Earle. He knew the talk had
been rather purposeless, being merely that sort of preliminary
conversation which two people who do not yet know each other
indulge in, as a forerunner to future friendship. Then, he thought of his
awkward leave-taking of Miss Earle when he presented her with the
cup of coffee, and for the first time he remembered with a pang that he
had under his arm a camp-stool. It must have been evident to Miss
Earle that he had intended to sit down and have a cup of coffee with her,
and continue the acquaintance begun so auspiciously that morning. He
wondered if she had noticed that his precipitate retreat had taken place
the moment there appeared on the deck a very handsome and stylishly
dressed young lady. He began to fear that Miss Earle must have
thought him suddenly taken with insanity, or, worse still, sea-sickness.
The more Morris thought about the matter the more dissatisfied he was
with himself and his actions. At breakfast--he had arrived very late,
almost as Miss Earle was leaving--he felt he had preserved a glum,
reticent demeanour, and that he had the general manner of a fugitive
anxious to escape justice. He wondered what Miss Earle must have
thought of him after his eager conversation of the morning. The rest of
the day he had spent gloomily in the smoking-room, and had not seen
the young lady again. The more he thought of the day the worse he felt
about it. However, he was philosopher enough to know that all the
thinking he could do would not change a single item in the sum of the
day's doing. So he slipped back the curtain on its brass rod and looked
out into his state-room. The valise which he had left carelessly on the
floor the night before was now making an excursion backwards and
forwards from the bunk to the sofa, and the books that had been piled
up on the sofa were scattered all over the room. It was evident that
dressing was going to be an acrobatic performance.

The deck, when he reached it, was wet, but not with the moisture of the
scrubbing. The outlook was clear enough, but a strong head-wind was
blowing that whistled through the cordage of the vessel, and caused the
black smoke of the funnels to float back like huge sombre streamers.
The prow of the big ship rose now into the sky and then sank down into
the bosom of the sea, and every time it descended a white cloud of
spray drenched everything forward and sent a drizzly salt rain along the
whole length of the steamer.
"There will be no ladies on deck this morning," said Morris to himself,
as he held his cap on with both hands and looked around at the
threatening sky. At this moment one wave struck the steamer with more
than usual force and raised its crest amidship over the decks. Morris
had just time to escape into the companion-way when it fell with a
crash on the deck, flooding the promenade, and then rushing out
through the scuppers into the sea.
"By George!" said Morris. "I guess there won't be many at breakfast
either, if this sort of thing keeps up. I think the other side of the ship is
the best."
Coming out on the other side of the deck, he was astonished to see,
sitting