rushed up the
plank, and stood panting, by the side of Dempster.

"Oh dear, it is too bad!" says I.

"What is it, Phoemie?" says Dempster.

"Peaches!" says I. "Those delicious peaches--see how they glow in the
sunshine!"

"Oh, nonsense! There is plenty on board," says he; "I'll go and get
some."

"Not yet," says E. E.; "the deck is so crowded."

Dempster got seats for us and a stool for himself. The crowd was packed
so close that one could hardly breathe. I was thirsty, I was tired out,
and just ready to cry. E. E. was tired also, and a little cross. Cecilia
was just as she always is--a nuisance. I felt like thanking Dempster
when he jumped up, and says he:

"Now for the peaches!"

Away he went, just as good-natured as could be, calling back for me to
keep his seat for him. I laid my parasol on it, and kept my hand on
that; but a minute after came a great heathen of a fellow and attempted
to take the stool.

"It is engaged," says I, pressing down my hand.

"What of that?" says he, jerking the stool away, and throwing my parasol
on to the floor. "Every one for himself, and no favors."

I was blue as indigo before that. At another time this creature would
have riled me into a tempest, but now I felt more like crying. But there
he sat, plump on the stool, looking as self-contented as if butter would
not melt in his mouth.

Dempster came back. I looked up longingly. His hands were empty.

"I am very sorry," says he, "but there isn't a peach on board."

Well, there I sat, with the sun pouring down on me, while E. E. read the
illustrated papers, and that child made herself generally numerous among
the passengers. After awhile I got up to look over the side of the
vessel, when that horrid wretch snatched up my seat and carried it off,
looking back at me and laughing.

I said nothing--what was the use?--but leaned against the cabin-door,
holding my satchel, the most forlorn creature you ever saw. Just then
some one spoke to me. I looked round. It was a roly-poly, oldish woman,
who spread considerably over her chair, and held a travelling-basket on
her lap. She had found an empty stool, and asked me to take it.

I sat down while she smiled blandly upon me.

"Never mind that fellow," says she. "Some men are born animals of one
kind or another, so let them go."

Her words were kind--her manner motherly. I liked the woman. She is not
elegant, I thought, but who could be with all that breadth of chest and
bre