e ever handy-man, Jimmy, had lashed the two steamer chairs.

At the same moment the elegant, fur-clad lady rapidly crossed the deck
and placing her hand on the back of the nearest chair, said in a cold
and haughty tone to the maid: "Here, Marie, place the rugs and cushions
in these chairs. They will do quite nicely."

"Excuse me, but these chairs are ours, mine and my mother's," said
Molly. "But we are not going to use them until after supper, I mean
dinner, so you are welcome to them until then."

"Some mistake surely," rejoined the older woman, eying Molly scornfully
through her lorgnette. "You will have to complain to the steward if you
cannot find your chairs, young woman; these are mine, engaged and paid
for." With that, she prepared to seat herself with the help of the maid,
who was blushing furiously, mortified by the flagrant untruth of her
mistress.

Molly was, by nature, easy-going and peace-loving and her inclination
was to leave the haughty dame in possession of the chairs and beat a
hasty retreat; but she remembered Jimmy Lufton's remark about "chair
hogs" and a joking promise she had made him to stand up for her mother
if not for herself, so she braced herself for battle. Despite her
girlish face and figure, Molly Brown could command as much dignity as
any member of the Four Hundred.

With a polite smile and gently modulated voice she said, very calmly and
firmly: "Madam, as I said before, these are my chairs but you are quite
welcome to them until after dinner. If you have any doubt about it, you
will find our names on the backs; but to save you the trouble of moving
to look behind you, if you will be so kind as to glance at these tags
you can verify my statement."

"Oh, I did not dream I was to call forth such a tirade," yawned the
nonplussed woman, reading the tags: "'Mrs. M. Brown, Kentucky; Miss M.
Brown, Kentucky.' If you are not going to use the chairs until after
dinner, my daughter and I will just stay in them until other
arrangements can be made. These small steamers are wretchedly managed. I
can't imagine where our chairs are. Elise," calling to her daughter, "it
seems these are not our chairs, after all."

"Well, I did not think they could be, as these chairs seem real enough
and ours are entirely imaginary," answered the daughter rudely. "Mother,
this is Mr. Kinsella, whom I have known at the Art Students' League. My
mother, Mrs. Huntington, Mr. Kinsella."

"I am so glad to meet you,