"Oh, I should be charmed," cried Mrs. Vanderburgh. "Fanny dear, draw up
that steamer chair to the other side." But a stout, comfortable-looking
woman coming down the deck stopped directly in front of that same
chair, and before Fanny could move it, sat down, saying, "This is my
chair, young lady."

"That vulgar old woman has got it," said Fanny, coming back quite
crestfallen.

"Ugh!" Mrs. Vanderburgh shrugged her shoulders as she looked at the
occupant of the chair, who surveyed her calmly, then fell to reading
her book. "Well, you must just bear it, dear; it's one of the
annoyances to be endured on shipboard."

"I suppose the lady wanted her own chair," observed Mr. King, dryly.

"Lady? Oh, my dear Mr. King!" Mrs. Vanderburgh gave a soft little
laugh. "It's very good of you to put it that way, I'm sure. Well, now
do let us hear that delightful story. Fanny dear, you can sit on part
of my chair," she added, regardless of the black looks of a gentleman
hovering near, who had a sharp glance on the green card hanging to the
back of the chair she had appropriated and that bore his name.

So Fanny perched on the end of the steamer chair, and Mr. King, not
seeing any way out of it, went on in his recital of the whale story,
winding up with an account of some wonderful porpoises he had seen, and
a variety of other things, until suddenly he turned his head and keenly
regarded Fanny's mother.