After a playful feint to throw one of his children overboard, he became calmer, and relapsed into a maudlin monologue till the bell rang, when he was hustled off, much to Bluebell’s relief as well as his wife’s, whose set mouth relaxed as if a care had rolled away.

Two or three officers on leave were pacing up and down, and with them another young man, but, whether he were civil or military, Bluebell could not decide.  He was not exactly like either; there was a slight oddness about his dress, which, though well cut, was carelessly put on, and rather incongruous in different parts.  The neck-tie was a little awry, and not the right colour for the coat; still he seemed gentlemanly—­rather distinguished-looking than not.

These were all the portraits she took in till the bell rang for luncheon, and there was a general desertion of the deck.  Being, by this time, very hungry, Bluebell followed in the string, but felt dubious where to seat herself, as she found people had already appropriated their places by pinning their cards on the table-cloth.

The captain, who had just come in, observing her, asked if she were Miss Leigh, and then took her to a seat next but one to himself.

“You must look upon me in loco parentis,” said he, good-naturedly, with a strong Scotch accent.

Being the first friendly word she had heard, Bluebell thanked him with a heartiness of gratitude that caused her neighbour on the left to glance at her with furtive interest.  It was the young man with the deranged neck-tie.  On her right was a haughty dame, who evidently considered herself a person of position.  Next the captain, on the opposite side, was an elderly widow lady, with weak eyes and rather methodistical appearance; and on her left a fussy, brisk-looking little woman, of about thirty-five.  Then came the bride and bridegroom, a doctor, an aunt and niece, and the rest were out of range of our heroine.

Days at sea are very long, and this first one seemed nearly interminable to Bluebell.  She walked on deck till she was tired, and read a book till she shivered, and then retreated to her cabin, to find the fussy little lady of five-and-thirty extended on the sofa.  “Ah!” cried she, “I have been wondering all day who my fellow-lodger was to be; let me introduce myself, as we are to have such close companionship.  I am Mrs. Oliphant, of the 44th; you are Miss Leigh, I heard the captain say.  I am lying down, you see, for I have such a dread of sea-sickness, and it is such a good thing for it.”

They were not out of the river and it was like glass.  Bluebell, feeling particularly well, laughed inwardly, as she inquired if Mrs. Oliphant was a bad sailor.

“Middling; very much like the rest.  You see I have been settling everything conveniently—­while I can.”

She spoke as if she had just made her last will and testament, and certainly everything was very commodiously arranged—­for Mrs. Oliphant.  Not a peg or a corner was left for any properties of Bluebell’s, who perceived she would have to keep all her effects in the portmanteau, and drag it out for everything she wanted.