"Why, aunt Milly," exclaimed Shirley surprised. "I thought you
were downstairs. I didn't think you could stand this sea."

"It is a little rougher than I care to have it," responded Mrs.
Blake with a wry grimace and putting her hand to her breast as if
to appease disturbing qualms. "It was so stuffy in the cabin I
could not bear it. It's more pleasant here but it's getting a
little cool and I think I'll go below. Where have you children
been all afternoon?"

Jefferson volunteered to explain.

"The children have been rhapsodizing over the beauties of the
ocean," he laughed. With a sly glance at Shirley, he added, "Your
niece has been coaching me in metaphysics."

Shirley shook her finger at him.

"Now Jefferson, if you make fun of me I'll never talk seriously
with you again."

"_Wie geht es, meine damen?_"

Shirley turned on hearing the guttural salutation. It was Captain
Hegermann, the commander of the ship, a big florid Saxon with
great bushy golden whiskers and a basso voice like Edouard de
Reszké. He was imposing in his smart uniform and gold braid and
his manner had the self-reliant, authoritative air usual in men
who have great responsibilities and are accustomed to command. He
was taking his afternoon stroll and had stopped to chat with his