ushed and his somber eyes lit up with what Molly
thought an angry light.

"So," he muttered, "she has married again. Yes, yes, my boy, I--I did
know a Miss Lizzie Peck in my youth who married an old friend of mine,
George O'Brien. I have not seen or heard of them for years and did not
know George was dead. I shall take great pleasure in meeting his little
girl."

"Little! She is as tall as Miss Brown, who is certainly not stumpy, and
is some years older, if I am any judge of the fair sex."

"Of course you are a judge of the fair sex, a most competent one, I
should say. What boy of eighteen is not?" teased his uncle. "Where are
your new acquaintances seated?"

"They are at the other end of the next table with their backs to us. You
will have to rubber a little to get a good view of them."

Mr. Kinsella accordingly "rubbered," as his slangy nephew put it, and
satisfied himself of the identity of Mrs. Huntington. Molly was greatly
interested in the occurrence. Mr. Kinsella was different from anyone she
had ever seen before and Pierce's hint of a disappointed life had fired
her imagination, ever ready for a romance. She had a feeling that the
proud, beautiful, inconsiderate woman whose acquaintance she had
recently made was in some way connected with Mr. Kinsella's
disappointment.

Soup was removed and the next course of baked bluefish brought on.
Molly's senses reeled and a drowsy numbness stole over her. "What a
strange feeling! What on earth is the matter with me? I was so hungry
when I came down here and now I can't touch a thing," she said to
herself.

Mr. Kinsella was watching her and finally spoke:

"My dear Miss Brown, let me take you on deck. You will feel much better
in the air."

"Why, my darling daughter, are you sick?" inquired the anxious mother,
who was eating her dinner with the greatest enjoyment.

"I believe I'll go to bed," gasped poor Molly. "But don't you come,
Mother. I'll be better in a minute."

A grim smile went down the Captain's table as Molly beat a hasty and
ignominious retreat. Mrs. Huntington was heard to remark to her daughter
as a white and hollow-eyed Molly flew past their chairs on the way to
her stateroom: "There goes that red-headed girl from Kentucky, who was
so rude to me on deck. I fancy we can occupy her chairs for a while
longer."

"Oh, Mamma, why do we not have chairs of our own? It is so embarrassing
to sponge on other people all the time, and the expense of chairs