The Voice in the Fog - Page 26/93

"That is what I am here for, miss." He smiled reassuringly.

"Never ask my father if he wishes tea and toast"--gravely.

"Yes, miss"--with honest gravity. Thomas knew nothing of women, young

or old. With the habits and tastes of the male biped he was tolerably

familiar. He was to learn.

"Hot water-bottles for my mother every night, and a pot of chocolate

for myself. I shall always have my breakfast early in the saloon. I'm

a first-rate sailor."

A rush, a whir.

"Kitty, you darling! They have put us on the other side of the ship."

Thomas was genuinely glad of it. With a goddess and a nymph to wait

upon, heaven knew how many broken dishes he'd have to account for.

Never in the park, never after the matinees, never in all wide London,

had he seen two such lovely types: Titian and Greuse.

"No!" said the Greuse.

"Stupid mistake at the booking-office," replied the Titian. "Come up

on deck. They are putting off."

"Just a moment. Put the small luggage, Mr. . . ."

"Webb."

"Mr. Webb. Put the small luggage on the lounge. Never mind the

straps. That is all."

"Yes, miss."

The two young women hurried off. Thomas stared after them, his brows

bent in a mixture of perplexity, dazzlement and diffidence.

"A very good-looking steward."

"Kitty, you little wretch!"

"Why, he is good-looking."

"Princes, dukes, waiters, cabbies, stewards; all you do is look at

them, and they become slaves. You've more mischief in you than a dozen

kittens."

"I have met cabbies whom I much prefer to certain dukes."

"But I've a young man picked out for you. He's an artist."

"Good night!" murmured Kitty. "If there is one kind of person in the

world dad considers wholly useless and incompetent, it's an artist or a

poet."

"But this artist makes fifteen thousand and sometimes twenty thousand

the year."

"Then he's no artist. What is his name?"

"Forbes, J. Mortimer Forbes."

"Oh. The pretty-cover man."

"My dear, he is one of the nicest young men in New York. His family is

one of the best, and he goes everywhere. And but for his

kindness. . . ."

"What?"

"Some day I'll tell you the story. Here we go! Good-by, England!"

"Good-by, sapphires!" said Kitty, so low that the other did not hear

her.