Tom Selwyn just then ran up against some one as clumsily as ever. It
proved to be the ship's doctor, who surveyed him coldly and passed on.
Tom gave a start and swallowed hard, then plunged after him. "Oh, I
say."

"What is it?" asked Dr. Jones, pausing.

"Can I--I'd like--to see my Grandfather, don't you know?"

Dr. Jones scanned him coolly from top to toe. Tom took it without
wincing, but inwardly he felt as if he must shake to pieces.

"If you can so conduct yourself that your Grandfather will not be
excited," at last said the doctor,--what an age it seemed to Tom,--"I
see no reason why you shouldn't see your Grandfather, and go back to
your state-room. But let me tell you, young man, it was a pretty close
shave for him the other day. Had he slipped away, you'd have had that
on your conscience that would have lasted you for many a day." With
this, and a parting keen glance, he turned on his heel and strode off.

Tom gave a great gasp, clenched his big hands tightly together, took a
long look at the wide expanse of water, then disappeared within.

In about half an hour, the steerage baby having gone to sleep in
Phronsie's arms, the brothers and sisters, finding, after the closest
inspection, nothing more to eat in the basket, gathered around the
centre of attraction in a small bunch.

"I hope they won't wake up the baby," said Phronsie, in gentle alarm.