The Little Colonels Hero | Page 6

but water. Soon she began walking
up and down the deck, looking for something to entertain her. In one
place some little girls were busy with scissors and paint-boxes, making
paper dolls. Farther along two boys were playing checkers, and, under
the stairs, a group of children, gathered around their governess, were
listening to a fairy tale. Lloyd longed to join them, for she fairly ached
for some amusement. She paused an instant, with her hand on the rail,
as she heard one sentence: "And the white prince, clasping the crystal
ball, waved his plumed cap to the gnome, and vanished."
Wondering what the story was about, Lloyd walked around to the other
side of the deck, only to find another long uninteresting row of sleepy
figures stretched out in steamer-chairs, and half hidden in rugs and
cloaks. She turned to go back, but paused as she caught sight of a girl,
about her own age, standing against the deck railing, looking over into
the sea. She was not a pretty girl. Her face was too dark and thin,
according to Lloyd's standard of beauty, and her mouth looked as if it
were used to saying disagreeable things.

But Lloyd thought her interesting, and admired the scarlet jacket she
wore, with its gilt braid and buttons, and the scarlet cap that made her
long plaits of hair look black as a crow's wing by contrast. Her hair was
pretty, and hung far below her waist, tied at the end with two bows of
scarlet ribbon.
The girl glanced up as Lloyd passed, and although there was a cool
stare in her queer black eyes, Lloyd found herself greatly interested.
She wanted to make the stranger's acquaintance, and passed back and
forth several times, to steal another side glance at her. As she turned for
the third time to retrace her steps, she was nearly knocked off her feet
by two noisy boys, who bumped against her. They were playing horse,
to the annoyance of all the passengers on deck, stepping on people's
toes, knocking over chairs, and stumbling against the stewards who
were hurrying along with their heavy trays of beef tea and lemonade.
Lloyd had seen the boys several times before. They were little fellows
of six and nine, with unusually thin legs and shrill voices, and were
always eating.
Every time a deck steward passed, they grabbed a share of whatever he
carried. They seemed to have discovered some secret passage to the
ship's supplies. Their blouses were pouched out all around with the
store of gingersnaps, nuts, and apples which they had managed to stow
away as a reserve fund. Lloyd had seen the larger boy draw out six
bananas, one after another, from his blouse, and then squirm and
wriggle and almost stand on his head to reach the seventh, which had
slipped around to his back while he was eating the others. They were
munching raisins now, as they ran.
After their collision with Lloyd they stopped running, and suddenly
began calling, "Here, Fido! Here, Fido!" Lloyd looked around eagerly,
expecting to see some pet dog, and wishing that she had one of the
many pet animals left behind at Locust, to amuse her now. But no dog
was in sight. The girl in the scarlet jacket turned around with an angry
scowl.
"Stop calling me that, Howl Sattawhite!" she exclaimed, crossly. "I'll

tell mamma. You know what she said she'd do to you if you called me
anything but Fidelia."
"And you know what she said she'd do to you if you kept calling me
Howl," shouted the larger of the boys, making a saucy face and darting
forward to give one of her long plaits of hair a sudden pull.
Quick as a flash, Fidelia turned, and catching him by the wrists, twisted
them till he began to whimper with pain, and tried to set his teeth in her
hand.
"You dare bite me, you little beast!" she cried. "You just dare, and I'll
tell mamma how you spit at the waiter the morning we left the hotel."
Lloyd was scandalised. They were quarrelling like two little dogs,
seemingly unconscious of the fact that a hundred people were within
hearing. As Fidelia seemed to be getting the upper hand, the little
brother joined in, calling in a high piping voice, "And if you squeal on
Howell, Fidelia Sattawhite, I'll tell mamma how you went out walking
by yourself in New York when she told you not to, and took her new
purse and lost it! So there, Miss Smarty!"
"Oh, those dreadful American children!" said an English woman near
Lloyd. "They're all alike. At least the ones who travel. I have never
seen any yet that had any manners. They are all pert and spoiled.