write, of Bills who were instructing Dicks to look up old Joe in Paris
and give him their best, and of all the fruit-boys, candy-boys,
magazine-boys, American-flag-boys, and telegraph boys who were honking
their wares on every side.

"I hope he didn't hurt you much. You're the third person he's bitten
to-day." She kissed the animal in a loving and congratulatory way on the
tip of his black nose. "Not counting bell-boys, of course," she added.
And then she was swept from him in the crowd and he was left thinking
of all the things he might have said--all those graceful, witty,
ingratiating things which just make a bit of difference on these
occasions.

He had said nothing. Not a sound, exclusive of the first sharp yowl of
pain, had proceeded from him. He had just goggled. A rotten exhibition!
Perhaps he would never see this girl again. She looked the sort of girl
who comes to see friends off and doesn't sail herself. And what memory
of him would she retain? She would mix him up with the time when she
went to visit the deaf-and-dumb hospital.

Sam reached the gang-plank, showed his ticket, and made his way through
the crowd of passengers, passengers' friends, stewards, junior
officers, and sailors who infested the deck. He proceeded down the main
companion-way, through a rich smell of india-rubber and mixed pickles,
as far as the dining-saloon: then turned down the narrow passage
leading to his stateroom.

Staterooms on ocean liners are curious things. When you see them on the
chart in the passenger-office, with the gentlemanly clerk drawing rings
round them in pencil, they seem so vast that you get the impression