The Vultures | Page 6

own good, he led the way to a warmer
quarter. But at the corner of the deck-house a gust caught Miss Cahere,
and held her there in a pretty attitude, with her two hands upraised to
her hat, looking at him with frank and laughing eyes, and waiting for
him to come to her assistance. The same gust of wind made the steamer
lurch so that Cartoner had to grasp Miss Cahere's arm to save her from
falling.
"Thank you," she said, quietly, and with downcast eyes, when the
incident had passed. For in some matters she held old-fashioned
notions, and was not one of the modern race of hail-fellow-well-met
girls who are friendly in five minutes with men and women alike.
When she came within sight of her uncle, she suddenly hurried towards
him, and made an affectionate, laughing attempt to prevent his
returning his cigar-case to his jacket pocket. She even took possession
of the cigar-case, opened it, and with her own fingers selected a cigar.
"No," she said, firmly, "you are going to smoke again at once. Do you
think I did not see you throw away the other? Mr. Cartoner--is it not
foolish of him? Because I once said, without reflecting, that I did not
care about the smell of tobacco, he never lets me see him smoke now."
As she spoke she laid her hand affectionately on the old man's shoulder
and looked down at him.
"As if it mattered whether I like it or not," she said. "And I do like it--I
like the smell of your cigars."
Mr. Mangles looked from Cartoner to his niece with an odd smile,
which was perhaps the only way in which that lean countenance could
express tenderness.
"As if it mattered what I think," she said, humbly, again.
"Always like to conciliate a lady," said Mr. Mangles, in his deep voice.
"Especially when that lady is dependent on you for her daily bread and
her frocks," answered Netty, in an affectionate aside, which Cartoner
was, nevertheless, able to overhear.
"Where is your aunt Jooly?" inquired the old man, hurriedly. "I thought

she was coming on deck."
"So she is," answered Netty. "I left her in the saloon. She is quite well.
She was talking to some people."
"What, already?" exclaimed the lady's brother. And Netty nodded her
head with a mystic gravity. She was looking towards the saloon
stairway, from whence she seemed to expect Miss Mangles.
"My sister Jooly, sir," explained Mr. Mangles to Cartoner, "is no doubt
known to you--Miss Julia P. Mangles, of New York City."
Cartoner tried to look as if he had heard the name before. He had lived
in the United States during some months, and he knew that it is
possible to be famous in New York and quite without honor in
Connecticut.
"Perhaps she has not come into your line of country?" suggested Mr.
Mangles, not unkindly.
"No--I think not."
"Her line is--at present--prisons."
"I have never been in prison," replied Cartoner.
"No doubt you will get experience in course of time," said Mr. Mangles,
with his deep, curt laugh. "No, sir, my sister is a lecturer. She gets on
platforms and talks."
"What about?" asked Cartoner.
Mr. Mangles described the wide world, with a graceful wave of his
cigar.
"About most things," he answered, gravely; "chiefly about women, I
take it. She is great on the employment of women, and the payment of
them. And she is right there. She has got hold of the right end of the
stick there. She had found out what very few women know--namely,
that when women work for nothing, they are giving away something
that nobody wants. So Jooly goes about the world lecturing on women's
employment, and pointing out to the public and the administration
many ways in which women may be profitably employed and paid. She
leaves it to the gumption of the government to discover for themselves
that there is many a nice berth for which Jooly P. Mangles is eminently
suited, but governments have no gumption, sir. And--"
"Here is Aunt Julie," interrupted Miss Cahere, walking away.
Mr. Mangles gave a short sigh, and lapsed into silence.
As Miss Cahere went forward, she passed another officer of the ship,

the second in command, a dogged, heavy man, whose mind was given
to the ship and his own career. He must have seen something to interest
him in Netty Cahere's face--perhaps he caught a glance from the dark-
lashed eyes--for he turned and looked at her again, with a sudden, dull
light in his face.

II
SIGNAL HOUSE
Where Gravesend merges into Northfleet--where the spicy odors of
chemical-fertilizing works mingle with the dry dust of the cement
manufactories which throw their tall chimneys into an ever-gray sky--
there stands