They said they did not mind. Bream Mortimer, having bumped his head
twice against overhanging steel ropes, melted away.

"Who is that fellow?" demanded Sam wrathfully.

"He's the son of father's best friend."

Sam started. Somehow this girl had always been so individual to him that
he had never thought of her having a father.

"We have known each other all our lives," continued Billie. "Father
thinks a tremendous lot of Bream. I suppose it was because Bream was
sailing by her that father insisted on my coming over on this boat. I'm
in disgrace, you know. I was cabled for and had to sail at a few days'
notice. I...."

"Oh, hello!"

"Why, Bream!" said Billie, looking at him as he stood on the old spot
in the same familiar attitude with rather less affection than the son
of her father's best friend might have expected. "I thought you said
you were going down to the Promenade Deck."

"I did go down to the promenade deck. And I'd hardly got there when a
fellow who's getting up the ship's concert to-morrow night nobbled me
to do a couple of songs. He wanted to know if I knew anyone else who
would help. I came up to ask you," he said to Sam, "if you would do
something."