She found, meanwhile, the ladies in her cabin very kind and agreeable.  They were mothers returning to India, who had been home to England to leave their children, as they were afraid to expose them longer to the climate of India.  Mrs. Peterkin could have sympathetic talks with them over their family photographs.  Mrs. Peterkin’s family-book was, alas! in Elizabeth Eliza’s hand-bag.  It contained the family photographs, from early childhood upward, and was a large volume, representing the children at every age.

At Malta, as he supposed, Mr. Peterkin and the little boys landed, in order to send their telegram.  Indeed, all of the gentlemen among the passengers, and some of the ladies, gladly went on shore to visit the points of interest that could be seen in the time allotted.  The steamer was to take in coal, and would not leave till early the next morning.

Mrs. Peterkin did not accompany them.  She still had her fears about leaving the ship and returning to it, although it had been so quietly accomplished at Marseilles.

The party returned late at night, after Mrs. Peterkin had gone to her cabin.  The next morning, she found the ship was in motion, but she did not find Mr. Peterkin and the little boys at the breakfast-table as usual.  She was told that the party who went on shore had all been to the opera, and had returned at a late hour to the steamer, and would naturally be late at breakfast.  Mrs. Peterkin went on deck to await them, and look for Malta as it seemed to retreat in the distance.  But the day passed on, and neither Mr. Peterkin nor either of the little boys appeared!  She tried to calm herself with the thought that they must need sleep; but all the rest of the passengers appeared, relating their different adventures.  At last she sent the steward to inquire for them.  He came back with one of the officers of the boat, much disturbed, to say that they could not be found; they must have been left behind.  There was great excitement, and deep interest expressed for Mrs. Peterkin.  One of the officers was very surly, and declared he could not be responsible for the inanity of passengers.  Another was more courteous.  Mrs. Peterkin asked if they could not go back,—­if, at least, she could not be put back.  He explained how this would be impossible, but that the company would telegraph when they reached Alexandria.

Mrs. Peterkin calmed herself as well as she could, though indeed she was bewildered by her position.  She was to land in Alexandria alone, and the landing she was told would be especially difficult.  The steamer would not be able to approach the shore; the passengers would go down the sides of the ship, and be lifted off the steps, by Arabs, into a felucca (whatever that was) below.  She shuddered at the prospect.  It was darker than her gloomiest fancies had pictured.  Would it not be better to remain in the ship, go back to Southampton, perhaps meet Elizabeth Eliza there, picking up Mr. Peterkin at Malta on the