'No, he ain't—he's right down scandalised. He says he regards us all as a real family and wants the family to be properly behaved.' I could see Mrs. Peck was irritated by my controversial tone: she challenged me with considerable spirit. 'How can you say I don't know it when all the street knows it and has known it for years—for years and years?' She spoke as if the girl had been engaged at least for twenty. 'What is she going out for, if not to marry him?'
'Perhaps she is going to see how he looks,' suggested one of the gentlemen.
'He'd look queer—if he knew.'
'Well, I guess he'll know,' said Mrs. Gotch.
'She'd tell him herself—she wouldn't be afraid,' the gentleman went on.
'Well, she might as well kill him. He'll jump overboard.'
'Jump overboard?' cried Mrs. Gotch, as if she hoped then that Mr. Porterfield would be told.
'He has just been waiting for this—for years,' said Mrs. Peck.
'Do you happen to know him?' I inquired.
Mrs. Peck hesitated a moment. 'No, but I know a lady who does. Are you going up?'
I had risen from my place—I had not ordered supper. 'I'm going to take a turn before going to bed.'
'Well then, you'll see!'
Outside the saloon I hesitated, for Mrs. Peck's admonition made me feel for a moment that if I ascended to the deck I should have entered in a manner into her little conspiracy. But the night was so warm and splendid that I had been intending
