nted to the novel proposition. He did it, too, and there seemed to
be no hurt feelings in the company.

Just then there was a rattle of cabs and side-cars, and our
self-constituted major-domo engaged two of them to await our pleasure.
At the same moment our eyes lighted upon Salemina's huge Vuitton, which
had been dragged behind the pile of wool sacks. It was no wonder it
had escaped our notice, for it was mostly covered by the person of the
sea-sick maiden whom I had seen on the arm of the stewardess. She was
seated on it, exhaustion in every line of her figure, her head upon my
travelling bag, her feet dangling over the edge until they just touched
the 'S. P., Salem, Mass., U.S.A.' painted in large red letters on the
end. She was too ill to respond to our questions, but there was no
mistaking her nationality. Her dress, hat, shoes, gloves, face, figure
were American. We sent for the stewardess, who told us that she had
arrived in Glasgow on the day previous, and had been very ill all the
way coming from Boston.

"Boston!" exclaimed Salemina. "Do you say she is from Boston, poor
thing?"

("I didn't know that a person living in Boston could ever, under any
circumstances, be a 'poor thing,'" whispered Francesca to me.)

"She was not fit to be crossing last night, and the doctor on the
American ship told her so, and advised her to stay in bed for three days
before coming to Ireland; but it seems as if she were determined to get
to her journey's end."

"We must have our trunk," I interposed. "Can't we move her carefully
over to the wool sacks, and won't you stay with her until her friends
come?"

"She has no friends in this country, ma'am. She's just travelling for
pleasure like."

"Good gracious! what a position for her to be in," said Salemina. "Can't
you take her back to the steamer and put her to bed?"

"I could ask the captain, certainly, miss, though of course it's
something we never do, and besides we have to set the ship to rights and
go across again this evening."

"Ask her what hotel she is going to, Salemina," we suggested, "and let
us drop her there, and put her in charge of the housekeeper; of course
if it is only sea-sickness she will be all right in the morning."

The girl's eyes were closed, but she opened them languidly as Salemina
chafed her cold hands, and asked gently if we could not drive her to an
hotel.

"Is--this--your--baggage?" she whispered.

"It is," Salemina answered, somewhat p