On the second morning a number of the travellers plucked up heart of
grace and embarked, though the weather was still squally. George Brand
was not in the least interested as to the speculations of those who
remained about the responsibilities of the passage. He drew his chair
toward the fire, and relapsed into his reading.

This day, however, was varied by his making the acquaintance of a little
old French lady, which he did by means of her two granddaughters,
Josephine, and Veronique. Veronique, having been pushed by Josephine,
stumbled against Mr. Brand's knee, and would inevitably have fallen into
the fireplace had he not caught her. Thereupon the little old lady,
hurrying across the room, and looking very much inclined to box the ears
of both Josephine and Veronique, most profusely apologized, in French,
to monsieur. Monsieur replying in that tongue, said it was of no
consequence whatever. Then madame greatly delighted at finding some one,
not a waiter, to whom she could speak in her own language, continued
the conversation, and very speedily made monsieur the confident of all
her hopes and fears about that terrible business the Channel passage. No
doubt monsieur was also waiting for this dreadful storm to abate?

Monsieur quickly perceived that so long as this voluble little old
lady--who was as yellow as a frog, and had beady black eyes, but whose
manner was exceedingly charming--chose to attach herself to him, his
pursuit of knowledge was not likely to be attended with much success, so
he shut the book on his finger, and pleasantly said to her,

"Oh no, madame; I am only waiting here for some friends."

Madame was greatly alarmed: surely they would not cross in such
frightful weather? Monsieur ventured to think it was not so very bad.