ean--my word, here she comes."

At that moment the swing doors of the office were pushed open, and
there came through them one of the sweetest, daintiest little women
Arthur had ever seen. She was no longer quite young, she might be
eight and twenty or thirty, but, on the other hand, maturity had but
added to the charms of youth. She had big, brown eyes that Arthur
thought could probably look languishing, if they chose, and that even
in repose were full of expression, a face soft and blooming as a
peach, and round as a baby's, surmounted by a quantity of nut-brown
hair, the very sweetest mouth, the lips rather full, and just showing
a line of pearl, and lastly, what looked rather odd on such an
infantile countenance, a firm, square, and very determined, if very
diminutive chin. For the rest, it was difficult to say which was the
most perfect, her figure or her dress.

All of which, of course, had little interest for Arthur, but what did
rather startle him was her voice, when she spoke. From such a woman
one would naturally have expected a voice of a corresponding nature,
namely, one of the soft and murmuring order. But hers, on the
contrary, though sweet, was decided, and clear as a bell, and with a
peculiar ring in it that he would have recognized amongst a thousand
others.

On her entrance, Arthur stepped on one side.

"I have come to say," she said, with a slight bow of recognition to
the clerk; "that I have changed my mind about my berth, instead of the
starboard deck cabin, I should like to have the port. I think that it
will be cooler at this time of year, and also will you please make
arrangements for three horses."

"I am excessively sorry, Mrs. Carr," the clerk answered; "but the port
cabin is engaged--in fact, this gentleman has just taken it."

"Oh, in that case"--with a little blush--"there is an end of the
question."

"By no means," interrupted Arthur. "It is a matter of perfect
indifference to me where I go. I beg that you will take it."

"Oh, thank you. You are very good, but I could not think of robbing
you of your cabin."

"I must implore you to do so. Rather than there should be any
difficulty, I will go below." And then, addressing the clerk, "Be so
kind as to change the cabin."

"I owe you many thanks for your courtesy," said Mrs. Carr, with a
little curtsey.

Arthur took off his hat.

"Then we will consider that settled. Good morning, or perhaps I should
say _au revoir_;" and, bowin