expanse
of mist-covered ocean and a gray-haired man asleep on a chair beside
her.

Sitting up, she stared about her for a moment till she realized what had
happened; then smiled to think she had actually slept out of doors.
Afterward, she wondered with some anxiety if Miss Greatorex had sent for
her during the night, or if she were still too ill to care about anybody
save herself.

"Anyhow, I must go and see. My! how damp these rugs are and yet I am as
warm as can be. That's what dear Miss Penelope said she meant to
do--sleep on deck. But she didn't come and I've done it in her stead.
What a queer world it is and how things do get twisted round! Now I must
be still as still and not wake that dear Judge--'Uncle', who's so lovely
to me!"

With these thoughts she slipped softly out of her rugs and tiptoed away,
having some slight trouble to locate "Number Thirteen" stateroom; and,
having done so, discovered its door ajar, fastened against intrusion by
a chain.

She peeped through the opening. Miss Isobel lay with her eyes closed,
but whether asleep or not Dorothy couldn't decide. She was very pale and
perfectly motionless, and a too-suggestive tin basin was fastened to the
railing of her berth.

"Ugh! I can't go in there and wake her, if she's asleep; or to go any
way. I'll slip around to this other side the boat where there are such
heaps of chairs and nobody in them. My! It's cold and I haven't anything
to put over me here. Never mind, I'll stay. If I go back to where I was
I might wake Judge Breckenridge, and I shouldn't like to do that. I
don't wonder Molly called him a handsome man. He looked better than
handsome to me, sleeping there, he looked _noble_."

Thus reflecting she settled herself on a chair against the inner wall
and watched the men at work mopping the wet decks and putting the
steamer generally "ship-shape" against the day's voyage. It was a
forlorn outlook into the world of fog, through which the sound of the
bells rang strangely. Also, there was an almost continuous blowing of
whistles and a look of some anxiety on the faces of such of the crew as
passed by.

Finally, out of some far-off stairway, young bugler Melvin came tripping
and hurried along the deck in her direction. She fancied a look of
surprise in his eyes as he perceived her and that he would pass on
without further notice. Yet, just as he reached a point opposite her
chair, he flashed one glance toward her; and almost as quickly