to her usual childlike half dependent
character, that her hearers were astounded. Senor Perkins gazed at
her thoughtfully; Brace, Crosby, and Winslow admiringly; her sister
passengers with doubt and apprehension.

"There must be some mistake," said Senor Perkins gently. "I will
inquire."

He was absent but a few moments. When he returned, his face was beaming.

"It's a ridiculous misapprehension. Our practical friend Banks, in his
zealous attempts to impress the Comandante's secretary, who knows a
little English, with the importance of Mr. Brimmer's position as a large
commission merchant, has, I fear, conveyed only the idea that he was a
kind of pawnbroker; while Mr. Markham's trade in hides has established
him as a tanner; and Mr. Banks' own flour speculations, of which he
is justly proud, have been misinterpreted by him as the work of a
successful baker!"

"And what idea did he convey about YOU?" asked Crosby audaciously; "it
might be interesting to us to know, for our own satisfaction."

"I fear they did not do me the honor to inquire," replied Senor Perkins,
with imperturbable good-humor; "there are some persons, you know, who
carry all their worldly possessions palpably about with them. I am one
of them. Call me a citizen of the world, with a strong leniency towards
young and struggling nationalities; a traveler, at home anywhere; a
delighted observer of all things, an admirer of brave men, the devoted
slave of charming women--and you have, in one word, a passenger of the
good ship Excelsior."

For the first time, Miss Keene noticed a slight irony in Senor Perkins'
superabundant fluency, and that he did not conceal his preoccupation
over the silent saluting gun he was still admiring. The approach of Don
Miguel and Padre Esteban with a small bevy of ladies, however, quickly
changed her thoughts, and detached the Senor from her side. Her first
swift feminine impression of the fair strangers was that they were plain
and dowdy, an impression fully shared by the other lady passengers.
But her second observation, that they were more gentle, fascinating,
child-like, and feminine than her own countrywomen, was purely her own.
Their loose, undulating figures, guiltless of stays; their extravagance
of short, white, heavily flounced skirt, which looked like a petticoat;
their lightly wrapped, formless, and hooded shoulders and heads, lent a
suggestion of dishabille that Mrs. Brimmer at once resented.

"They might, a