The picture called up by this question was so appalling that they shuddered and forgot their little grudge against Miss Child, who was not so bad when you were feeling well, except that she had odd ways of looking at things, and laughed when nobody else could see anything to laugh at.

“Thank heaven, she’s a bad sailor!” Miss Devereux cried.

“Thank heaven, all the other women on board are bad sailors,” added Win.

“If madame was well she’d think we ought to be,” said Miss Carroll.  “She’d dock our pay every time we—–­ Oh, this is bad enough, but if she was well it would be a million times worse!”

“Could anything be worse?” Miss Tyndale pitifully questioned, for just then the ship was sliding down the side of a wave as big as a millionaire’s house.

“Yes, it would be worse if we were wearing our waists slender this year,” said Win.

“Down, down, wallow, wallow, jump!” was the program the Monarchic carried out for the twentieth time in half as many minutes.  Slender waists!  Oh, horrible to think of, unless you broke in two and death ended your troubles!

“Let’s try breathing in as she goes up and out as she goes down.  I’ve heard that works wonderfully,” said Win.

They tried, but it worked disappointingly that time.  Perhaps it was the ship’s fault.  It was impossible to time her antics with the most careful breathing.

“Oh, why did we leave our peaceful homes?” moaned Miss Vedrine.

“I didn’t,” whispered Win.

“Didn’t what?”

“Leave my peaceful home.  If I’d had one I shouldn’t be here.”

This was the first time she had volunteered or had had dragged out of her a word concerning her past.  But at the moment no one could be keyed to interest in anything except preparation for the next wave.

In the veranda cafe Peter Rolls was asking his sister Ena if she knew anything about five incredibly beautiful girls in evening dress shut up together in a room with walls made of mirrors.

Ena Rolls was not in a mood to answer irrelevant questions, especially from a brother; but Lord Raygan and his sister were there, and pricked up their ears at the hint of a mystery.  She could not be cross and ask Peter kindly to go to the devil and not talk rot, as she would have done if the others had been somewhere else.  But then, were it not for Lord Raygan and his sister and mother, Miss Rolls would be flat in her berth.

“Five incredibly beautiful girls in evening dress!” repeated Lord Raygan, who, like Peter, was a good sailor.

Ena Rolls wanted him to be interested in her, and not in five preposterous persons in evening dress, so she replied promptly to Peter’s question:  “I suppose they must be Nadine’s living models.  We all had cards about their being on board and the hours of their parade to show the latest fashions.  You saw the card, I suppose, Lady Eileen?”