"
"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
continued: "Ain't we going to see Mrs. Nettlepoint?"
"I'm afraid not. She vows she won't stir from her sofa."
"Pshaw!" said Mrs. Peck again. "That's quite a disappointment."
"Do you know her then?"
"No, but I know all about her." Then my companion added: "You don't mean
to say she's any real relation?"
"Do you mean to me?"
"No, to Grace Mavis."
"None at all. They're very new friends, as I happen to know. Then
you're acquainted with our young lady?" I hadn't noticed the passage of
any recognition between them at luncheon.
"Is she your young lady too?" asked Mrs.
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