she was at a long table, one of three that ran from end to end of the
saloon. Ole Fred and his three friends were at the same table, a little
higher up. He scowled at her, and the three others made some grinning
remarks to him which he seemed to resent. Next to her was a little boy
of six or seven, who looked at her gravely. Beside him was a man with
greying hair and a very red face, who was talking to a small lady of
deceptive age--a very pretty, dark, bright-eyed little lady, charmingly
dressed, with hair of shining blackness arranged about her head in
dozens of little tight curls. She and the elderly man were talking
animatedly. The little boy pulled the man's arm several times gently,
and said "Father," but he did not notice.

There were piles of sliced bread at intervals up the table, and saucers
containing butter and jam. The stewards came to each person with an
enormous pair of pots and, murmuring "tea or coffee?" poured something
by sleight-of-hand into the thick, unbreakable cups.

"Father!" murmured the little boy again, pulling his father's sleeve.
The father shook his arm impatiently, as one jerks away an annoying fly.
He went on talking absorbedly. A steward asked if Marcella would have
ham or fish.

"Father," said the little boy, with quivering lips.

"What's to do, laddie?" said Marcella.

He stared at her, summed her up and decided.

"I'm thinking, shall I have ham or fish?" he said seriously.