me, and mind you
don't slip."

"Yes, grandma!"

"And be careful the umbrellas aren't caught in the stair rail. I saw a
beautiful umbrella broken in half like that on my way over."

"Yes, grandma."

Dark figures of men lounged against the rails. In the glow of
their pipes a nose shone out, or the peak of a cap, or a pair of
surprised-looking eyebrows. Fenella glanced up. High in the air, a
little figure, his hands thrust in his short jacket pockets, stood
staring out to sea. The ship rocked ever so little, and she thought the
stars rocked too. And now a pale steward in a linen coat, holding a
tray high in the palm of his hand, stepped out of a lighted doorway and
skimmed past them. They went through that doorway. Carefully over the
high brass-bound step on to the rubber mat and then down such a terribly
steep flight of stairs that grandma had to put both feet on each step,
and Fenella clutched the clammy brass rail and forgot all about the
swan-necked umbrella.

At the bottom grandma stopped; Fenella was rather afraid she was going
to pray again. But no, it was only to get out the cabin tickets. They
were in the saloon. It was glaring bright and stifling; the air smelled
of paint and burnt chop-bones and indiarubber. Fenella wished her
grandma would go on, but the old woman was not to be hurried. An immense
basket of ham sandwiches caught her eye. She went up to them and touched
the top one delicately with her finger.

"How much are the sandwiches?" she asked.

"Tuppence!" bawled a rude steward, slamming down a knife and fork.

Grandma could hardly believe it.

"Twopence each?" she asked.

"That's right," said the steward, and he winked at his companion.

Grandma made a small, astonished face. Then she whispered primly to
Fenella. "What wickedness!" And they sailed out at the further door
and along a passage that had cabins on either side. Such a very nice
stewardess came to meet them. She was dressed all in blue, and her
collar and cuffs were fastened with large brass buttons. She seemed to
know grandma well.

"Well, Mrs. Crane," said she, unlocking their washstand. "We've got you
back again. It's not often you give yourself a cabin."

"No," said grandma. "But this time my dear son's thoughtfulness--"

"I hope--" began the stewardess. Then she turned round and took a long,
mournful look at grandma's blackness and at Fenella's black coat and
skirt, black blouse, and hat with a crape rose.

Grandma no