their best to
start a famine in the fruit market, and Dr. Blatt was waving a banana
and cheering us with a yarn about an old lady that his Burdock Bitters
had h'isted bodily out of the tomb. He was at the most exciting part,
the bitters and the undertaker coming down the last lap neck and neck,
and an even bet who'd win the patient, when the kitchen door opens and
in marches the waiter with the tray full of dishes of "cereal." Seems
to me 'twas chopped hay we had that morning--either that or shavings; I
always get them breakfast foods mixed up.

But 'twa'n't the hay that made everybody set up and take notice. 'Twas
the waiter himself. Our regular steward was a spindling little critter
with curls and eye-glasses who answered to the hail of "Percy." This
fellow clogged up the scenery like a pet elephant, and was down in the
shipping list as "Jones."

The doc left his invalid hanging on the edge of the grave, and stopped
and stared. Old Mrs. Bounderby h'isted the gold-mounted double spyglass
she had slung round her neck and took an observation. Her daughter
"Maizie" fetched a long breath and shut her eyes, like she'd seen her
finish and was resigned to it.

"Well, Mr. Jones," says I, soon's I could get my breath, "this is kind
of unexpected, ain't it? Thought you was booked for the main deck."

"Yes, sir," he says, polite as a sewing-machine agent, "I was, but Percy
and I have exchanged. Cereal this morning, madam?"

Mrs. Bounderby took her measure of shavings and Jones's measure at the
same time. She had him labeled "Danger" right off; you could tell that
by the way she spread her wings over "Maizie." But I wa'n't watching her
just then. I was looking at Mabel Seabury--looking and wondering.

The housekeeper was white as the tablecloth. She stared at the Jones
man as if she couldn't believe her eyes, and her breath come short and
quick. I thought sure she was going to cry. And what she ate of that
meal wouldn't have made a lunch for a hearty humming-bird.

When 'twas finished I went out on the porch to think things over. The
dining room winder was open and Jonesy was clearing the table. All of a
sudden I heard him say, low and earnest:

"Well, aren't you going to speak to me?"

The answer was in a girl's voice, and I knew the voice. It said:

"You! YOU! How COULD you? Why did you come?"

"You didn't think I could stay away, did you?"

"But how did you know I was here? I tried so hard to keep it a secret."