ho was sitting beside Ella,
"mamma once threw a boot at papa."

"But papa is strong," said Ella. "He once picked up a chair and knocked
it down and smashed it to pieces."

Though Ingigerd was suffering from nausea, she had to laugh.

"Those children are great sport," she said.

"Papa once threw a bottle against the wall," Siegfried went on, "because
Uncle Bolle was always coming to see us."

And so the children continued, like little wiseacres, to discuss in
detail the theme of "happy marriages."

"Rosa says mamma is to blame because papa left us," observed Siegfried.

"I think so, too," said Ella. "I think mamma's to blame."

"Rosa said mamma doesn't do anything but read novels."

"Rosa says," Ella chimed in, "that if mamma were not always lying in bed,
she would feel much better."

And "Rosa says," "Rosa says," went on for a long while. The former
non-commissioned officer and lackey of the vaudeville star, Bulke, came
towing Rosa across the deck in the same way as he did his master. Both
looked red and contented. Frederick asked what the prospects were for the
_Roland_.

"Oh, everything's all right," Bulke laughed, "if only something else
doesn't turn up."

"Bulke," said Rosa, "take Siegfried on your back."

Bulke proceeded to do so, while Rosa lifted Ella to her crimson arm.

Now the children begged to remain where they were, although before they
had been annoying Ingigerd by constantly crying for Rosa.

"Let them stay," said Ingigerd.

Rosa thanked her. "They are really best off here," she said. "All they
take for supper is some milk and a roll. I will bring it right away."

"What is that on your arm?" asked Frederick. It looked as if a beast had
been clawing at her.

"Oh, nothing," she said. "My mistress doesn't know what she is doing.
She's out of her senses from seasickness and fright."

XL

For five hours the cyclone raged unmercifully. At ever shorter intervals,
gust on gust in increasing fury hurled itself against the vessel.

With great difficulty Frederick made his way down to the barber, who,
though the ship's movement was a fearful combination of rolling and
pitching, actually performed the miracle of shaving him.

"One has to keep going," said the barber. "If you don't work, you're
lost."

He spoke and suddenly stopped, removed the razor from Frederick's throat
and turned pale, if his dirty grey colour could turn a shade lighter.
Frederick's face, too, still partly cov