again, stirred by the bright light and by the luxury of her
surroundings.

"This where you sleep?" With passionate interest in everything that
concerned him, Jenny looked eagerly about the cabin. She now indicated a
broad bunk, with a beautifully white counterpane and such an eiderdown
quilt as she might optimistically have dreamed about. The tiny cabin was
so compact, and so marvellously furnished with beautiful things that it
seemed to Jenny a kind of suite in tabloid form. She did not understand
how she had done without all these luxurious necessities for
five-and-twenty years.

"Sometimes," Keith answered, having followed her marvelling eye from
beauty to beauty. "When there's company I sleep forward with the
others." He had been hurrying by with a cruet and the bread dish when
her exclamation checked him.

"Is this lord a friend of yours, then?" Jenny asked.

"Sometimes," Keith dryly answered. "Understand?" Jenny frowned again at
his tone.

"No," she said. Keith passed on.

Jenny stood surveying the sleeping-cabin. A whole nest of drawers
attracted her eye, deep drawers that would hold innumerable things. Then
she saw a hand-basin with taps for hot and cold water. Impulsively she
tried the hot-water tap, and was both relieved and disappointed when it
gasped and offered her cold water. There were monogramed toilet
appointments beautiful to see; a leather-cased carriage clock, a shelf