The other entreated him not to mention it and went on taking from his hand-bag a variety of toilet appliances which the sight of made Burnamy vow to keep his own simple combs and brushes shut in his valise all the way over.  “You slept on board, then,” he suggested, arresting himself with a pair of low shoes in his hand; he decided to put them in a certain pocket of his steamer bag.

“Oh, yes,” Burnamy laughed, nervously:  “I came near oversleeping, and getting off to sea without knowing it; and I rushed out to save myself, and so—­”

He began to gather up his belongings while he followed the movements of Mr. Triscoe with a wistful eye.  He would have liked to offer his lower berth to this senior of his, when he saw him arranging to take possession of the upper; but he did not quite know how to manage it.  He noticed that as the other moved about he limped slightly, unless it were rather a weary easing of his person from one limb to the other.  He stooped to pull his trunk out from under the berth, and Burnamy sprang to help him.

“Let me get that out for you!” He caught it up and put it on the sofa under the port.  “Is that where you want it?”

“Why, yes,” the other assented.  “You’re very good,” and as he took out his key to unlock the trunk he relented a little farther to the intimacies of the situation.  “Have you arranged with the bath-steward yet?  It’s such a full boat.”

“No, I haven’t,” said Burnamy, as if he had tried and failed; till then he had not known that there was a bath-steward.  “Shall I get him for you?”

“No; no.  Our bedroom-steward will send him, I dare say, thank you.”

Mr. Triscoe had got his trunk open, and Burnamy had no longer an excuse for lingering.  In his defeat concerning the bath-steward, as he felt it to be, he had not the courage, now, to offer the lower berth.  He went away, forgetting to change his shoes; but he came back, and as soon as he got the enamelled shoes on, and shut the shabby russet pair in his bag, he said, abruptly:  “Mr. Triscoe, I wish you’d take the lower berth.  I got it at the eleventh hour by some fellow’s giving it up, and it isn’t as if I’d bargained for it a month ago.”

The elder man gave him one of his staccato glances in which Burnamy fancied suspicion and even resentment.  But he said, after the moment of reflection which he gave himself, “Why, thank you, if you don’t mind, really.”

“Not at all!” cried the young man.  “I should like the upper berth better.  We’ll, have the steward change the sheets.”

“Oh, I’ll see that he does that,” said Mr. Triscoe.  “I couldn’t allow you to take any trouble about it.”  He now looked as if he wished Burnamy would go, and leave him to his domestic arrangements.

X.