the
forward deck where the girls were seated. But one lady sitting near
attracted their attention almost at first. She was such a little,
doll-like lady; so very plainly and neatly dressed, yet with a style
about her that carried the plain frock she wore, and the little hat, as
though they were both of the richest materials. She was dark, had
brilliant eyes, and her figure was youthful. Yet, when she chanced to
raise her veil, Ruth noted that her face was marred by innumerable fine
wrinkles--just like cracks in the face of a wax doll that had been
exposed to frost.

"Isn't she a cunning little thing?" whispered Helen, seeing how much
Ruth was attracted by the little lady.

"She's not a dwarf. There's nothing wrong with her," said Ruth.
"She's just a lady in miniature; isn't she? Why, Helen, she's no
taller than you are."

"She's dainty," repeated her chum. "But she looks odd."

Below, on the other deck, the music of a little orchestra had been
tinkling pleasantly. Now a man with the harp, another with a violin,
and a third with a huge guitar, came up the companionway and grouped
themselves to play upon the upper deck. The three musicians were all
foreigners--French or Italian. The man who played the harp was a huge,
fleshy man, with a red waistcoat and long, black mustache. The
waistcoat and mustache were the two most noticeable things about him.
He sat on a little campstool while he played.

The musicians struck into some rollicking ditty that pleased the ear.
The two girls enjoyed the music, and Helen searched her purse for a
coin to give whichever of the musicians came around for the collection
at the end of the concert. There was but one person on the forward
deck who did not seem to care for the music. The little lady, whose
back was to the orchestra, did not even look around.

All the time he was playing the huge man who thrummed the harp seemed
to have his eyes fixed upon the little lady. This both Ruth and Helen
noted. He was so big and she was so fairy-like, that the girls could
not help becoming interested in the fact that the harpist was so deeply
"smitten."

"Isn't he funny?" whispered Helen to Ruth. "He's so big and she's so
little. And he pays more attention to her than he does to playing the
tune."

Just then the orchestra of three pieces finished its third tune. That
was all it ever jingled forth before making a collection. The man who
played the guitar slipped the broad str