her meditations, a quiet, matter-of-fact voice struck
her ear, and, turning, she found that Mr. Grey had come up behind
her.

"The Captain says he will have the 'crow's nest' lowered and let you
go up in it if you like," was the startling announcement which roused
her from her revery.

"Oh, you are making fun!" she protested.

"I don't wonder you think so, but he seems quite in earnest, and I can
tell you it's the chance of a lifetime!"

"I should think it was!" she gasped. "Oh, tell him he's an angel with
wings! And please, _please_ don't let him change his mind while I run
and ask Mamma!" With which Blythe vanished down the gangway, her
golf-cape rising straight up around her head as the draught took it.

We may well believe that such a prospect as that drove from her mind
all speculations as to the steerage passengers, and that even the
thought of the little girl with the wonderful eyes did not again visit
her in the few hours intervening.

Yet when, that afternoon at eight-bells, she passed with Mr. Grey down
the steep gangway to the steerage deck, which they were obliged to
traverse on their way to the forecastle, and they came upon the
little creature lying, with upturned face, against the woman's knee,
Blythe felt a sharp pang of compunction and pity. The child looked
even more pathetic than when seen from above, and the young girl
involuntarily stooped in passing, and touched the wan little cheek.
Whereupon one of those ineffable smiles which are the birthright of
Italians lighted the little face, and the small hand was lifted with
so captivating a gesture that Blythe, clasping it in her own, dropped
on her knees beside the child.

"Is it your little girl?" she asked, looking up into the face of the
woman, whose marked unlikeness to the child was answer enough.

"No, no, Signorina," the woman protested. "She is my little
Signorina."

"And you are taking her to Italy?"

"_Si, Signorina; alla bella Italia_!"

Then the lips of the little girl parted with a still more radiant
smile, and she murmured, "_Alla bella Italia_!"

A moment later, Blythe and her companion had passed on and up to the
forward deck where, climbing a short ladder to the railing of the
"crow's nest," they dropped lightly down into this most novel of
elevators. There was a shrill whistle from the boatswain, the waving
of white handkerchiefs where Mrs. Halliday and Mr. DeWitt stood,
forward of the wheel-house, to watch the start;