without her coming in, and when it was half over Jasper remarked that he
would go up and look after her.

"Isn't that young lady coming--the one who was here to lunch?" Mrs. Peck
asked of me as he left the saloon.

"Apparently not. My friend tells me she doesn't like the saloon."

"You don't mean to say she's sick, do you?"

"Oh no, not in this weather. But she likes to be above."

"And is that gentleman gone up to her?"

"Yes, she's under his mother's care."

"And is his mother up there, too?" asked Mrs. Peck, whose processes were
homely and direct.

"No, she remains in her cabin. People have different tastes. Perhaps
that's one reason why Miss Mavis doesn't come to table," I added--"her
chaperon not being able to accompany her."

"Her chaperon?" my fellow passenger echoed.

"Mrs. Nettlepoint--the lady under whose protection she happens to be."

"Protection?" Mrs. Peck stared at me a moment, moving some valued morsel
in her mouth; then she exclaimed familiarly "Pshaw!" I was struck with
this and was on the point of asking her what she meant by it when she