It often happened that when things had dragged on that way for
years they were all huddled up at the end. Of course in such a case she,
Mrs. Mavis, had had to fly round. Her daughter's passage was taken, but
it seemed too dreadful she should make her journey all alone, the first
time she had ever been at sea, without any companion or escort. _She_
couldn't go--Mr. Mavis was too sick: she hadn't even been able to get him
off to the seaside.
"Well, Mrs. Nettlepoint's going in that ship," Mrs. Allen had said; and
she had represented that nothing was simpler than to give her the girl in
charge. When Mrs. Mavis had replied that this was all very well but that
she didn't know the lady, Mrs. Allen had declared that that didn't make a
speck of difference, for Mrs. Nettlepoint was kind enough for anything.
It was easy enough to _know_ her, if that was all the trouble! All Mrs.
Mavis would have to do would be to go right up to her next morning, when
she took her daughter to the ship (she would see her there on the deck
with her party) and tell her fair and square what she wanted. Mrs.
Nettlepoint had daughters herself and would easily understand. Very
likely she'd even look after Grace a little on the other side, in such a
queer situation, going out alone to the gentleman she was engaged to:
she'd just help her, like a good Samaritan, to turn round before she was
married.
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