arl pendants in her ears, she talked with
affected languor and used a gold lorgnon.

"Your father is quite right, dear," she went on. "There are all sorts of
perils at sea. A hundred things might happen. Our machinery might break
down, we might drift for weeks without being sighted, we might collide
with an iceberg in the fog, we might even turn turtle. Don't you
remember that awful affair of the _City of Berlin_? Of course you don't.
It was before your time--before mine, too, for that matter. The steamer
left Liverpool about thirty years ago, crowded with passengers. She
never reached port, and has never been heard of from that day to this.
Every vestige of her was wiped out. They never picked up a life-boat,
or even so much as a steamer-chair. The theory was that she turned
turtle and went right down."

"No--really--you don't say so!" exclaimed behind them a man's voice with
the exaggerated Piccadilly intonation some Englishmen affect. "It's a
jolly shame, don'tcher know--to frighten Miss Harmon like that. She'll
believe every bally thing you tell her and get the blue spiders and all
that sort of thing--eh, what?"

Grace turned, smiling, to greet the Honorable Percy Fitzhugh, who was
hemmed in the crowd at their elbows. He had just come aboard with a
green Tyrolian hat on the side of his head, a monocle in his eye, and a
bull-terrier tucked under his arm. Close behind was his valet, carrying
a wonderful collection of walking-sticks and a huge bouquet of flowers.

"Oh, I don't mind!" laughed Grace. "I'm a fine sailor and not a bit
nervous. The sea has no terrors for me."

"I wish I could say as much," sighed Mrs. Stuart. Petulantly she added:
"I never feel safe on the ocean. I don't mind storms, but I'm terribly
afraid of fog and icebergs and fire. Whenever it's foggy I can't eat or
sleep. I'm in a state of mental anguish until it clears again."

"It's a jolly good thing some of us have nerve--eh, what?" exclaimed Mr.
Fitzhugh, with a wink at Grace. Addressing Mrs. Stuart, he went on: "You
remind me of Rex, my terrier here. He loathes the sea--howls and whines
dismally the whole time. But please don't get the blue spiders, that's a
good girl. We're going to be an awfully jolly party. Don't spoil the
fun. Try a champagne cocktail. Best antidote for nervousness in the
world. If one don't work, take two. You'll feel bully." Turning to his
man, he added: "Thompson, take those flowers to my stateroom, and go and
see a