This happened at ten o’clock the next morning when the St. Luke was pitching about off the southwest coast of Ireland.  The twins, waking about seven, found with a pained surprise that they were not where they had been dreaming they were, in the sunlit garden at home playing tennis happily if a little violently, but in a chilly yet stuffy place that kept on tilting itself upside down.  They lay listening to the groans coming from the opposite berths, and uneasily wondering how long it would be before they too began to groan.  Anna-Rose raised her head once with the intention of asking if she could help at all, but dropped it back again on to the pillow and shut her eyes tight and lay as quiet as the ship would let her.  Anna-Felicitas didn’t even raise her head, she felt so very uncomfortable.

At eight o’clock the stewardess looked in—­the same stewardess, they languidly noted, with whom already they had had two encounters, for it happened that this was one of the cabins she attended to—­and said that if anybody wanted breakfast they had better be quick or it would be over.

“Breakfast!” cried the top berth opposite in a heart-rending tone; and instantly was sick.

The stewardess withdrew her head and banged the door to, and the twins, in their uneasy berths, carefully keeping their eyes shut so as not to witness the behaviour of the sides and ceiling of the cabin, feebly marvelled at the stewardess for suggesting being quick to persons who were being constantly stood on their heads.  And breakfast,—­they shuddered and thought of other things; of fresh, sweet air, and of the scent of pinks and apricots warm with the sun.

At ten o’clock the stewardess came in again, this time right in, and with determination in every gesture.

“Come, come,” she said, addressing the twins, and through them talking at the heaving and groaning occupants of the other side, “you mustn’t give way like this.  What you want is to be out of bed.  You must get up and go on deck.  And how’s the cabin to get done if you stay in it all the time?”

Anna-Felicitas, the one particularly addressed, because she was more on the right level for conversation than Anna-Rose, who could only see the stewardess’s apron, turned her head away and murmured that she didn’t care.

“Come, come,” said the stewardess.  “Besides, there’s life-boat drill at mid-day, and you’ve got to be present.”

Anna-Felicitas, her eyes shut, again murmured that she didn’t care.

“Come, come,” said the stewardess.  “Orders are orders.  Every soul on the ship, sick or not, has got to be present at life-boat drill.”

“Oh, I’m not a soul,” murmured Anna-Felicitas, who felt at that moment how particularly she was a body, while the opposite berths redoubled their groans.

“Come, come—­” said the stewardess.