the smoking-cabin, but that is not supposed to indicate that gentlemen
are expected to stay there till dawn. I see you have two Havanas left.
That will be quite enough for one evening. Good-night, poppa."




CHAPTER III.


All the way across momma implored me to become reconciled to Arthur. In
extreme moments, when it was very choppy, she composed telegrams on
lines which were to drive him wild with contrition without compromising
my dignity; and when I suggested the difficulty of tampering with the
Atlantic cable in mid-ocean without a diving machine, she wept, hinting
that, if I were a true daughter of hers, things would never have come to
such a pass. My position, from a filial point of view, was most trying.
I could not deny my responsibility for momma's woes--she never left her
cabin--yet I was powerless to put an end to them. Young women in novels
have thrown themselves into the arms of the wrong man under far less
parental pressure, but although it was indeed the hour the man was not
available. Neither, such was the irony of circumstances, would our
immediate union have affected the motion in the slightest degree. But
although I presented these considerations to momma many times a day, she
adhered so persistently to the idea of promoting a happy reunion that I
was obliged to keep a very careful eye on the possibility of
surreptitious messages from Liverpool. Once on dry land, however, momma
saw her duty in another light. I might say that she swallowed her
principles with the first meal she really enjoyed, after which she
expressed her conviction that it was best to let the dead past bury its