assed Mrs. Fillson her
tea without looking at her, an example which Mrs. Fillson followed in
handing her the cut bread and butter. When she took the plate back it
was empty, and Mrs. Bunnett, convulsed with rage, was picking the slices
out of her lap.

"Oh, I _am_ sorry," said Mrs. Fillson.

"You're not, ma'am," said Mrs. Bunnett fiercely. "You did it a purpose."

"There, there!" said both men feebly.

"Of course my husband'll sit quite calm and see me insulted," said Mrs.
Bunnett, rising angrily from her seat.

"And my husband'll sit still drinking tea while I'm given the lie," said
Mrs. Fillson, bending an indignant look upon the mate.

"If you think I'm going to share the state-room with that woman, George,
you're mistaken," said Mrs. Bunnett in a terrible voice. "I'd sooner
sleep on a doorstep."

"And I'd sooner sleep on the scraper," said Mrs. Fillson, regarding her
foe's scanty proportions.

"Very well, me an' the mate'll sleep there," said the skipper wearily.
"You can have the mate's bunk and Mrs. Fillson can have the locker. You
don't mind, George?"

"Oh, George don't mind," said Mrs. Bunnett mimickingly; "anything'll
do for George. If you'd got the spirit of a man, you wouldn't let me be
insulted like this."

"And if you'd got the spirit of a man," said Mrs. Fillson, turning on
her husband, "you wouldn't let them talk to me like this. You never
stick up for me."

She flounced up on deck where Mrs. Bunnett, after a vain attempt to
finish her tea, shortly followed her. The two men continued their meal
for some time in silence.

"We'll have to 'ave a quarrel just to oblige them, George," said the
skipper at length, as he put down his cup. "Nothing else'll satisfy
'em."

"It couldn't be done," said the mate, reaching over and clapping him on
the back.

"Just pretend, I mean," said the other.

"It couldn't be done proper," said the mate; "they'd see through it.
We've sailed together five years now, an' never 'ad what I could call a
really nasty word."

"Well, if you can think o' anything," said the skipper, "say so. This
sort o' thing is worrying."

"See how we get on at breakfast," said the mate, as he lit his pipe. "If
that's as bad as this, we'll have a bit of a row to please 'em."

Breakfast next morning was, if anything, worse, each lady directly
inciting her lord to acts of open hostility. In this they were
unsuccessful, but in the course of the morning the husbands arranged
matters