Part 5 (2/2)

Feargus' round, good-natured face had turned white. His dark hair was ruffled all over his head in wild confusion. His eyes had a bloodshot look and he waved his clinched fists dramatically above his head.

Billie was frightened. She felt as if she were speaking to an insane person; but then she had really never met any one with a grievance before, and Feargus O'Connor had a serious and deep grievance against some one.

”Come on,” she said kindly. ”Don't spoil your appet.i.te for breakfast.

You were singing when I came out. Start up again and maybe it will help you forget your troubles. How did it go?

”'A wet sheet and a flowing sea, And a wind that follows fast-”

”You're awfully kind, Miss Billie,” said the boy, waking into consciousness again, and feeling that he had been very rude to air his troubles to a comparative stranger. ”Let's sing 'Come back to Erin, Mavourneen, Mavourneen.' That's my sister's favorite song. She sings it with the harp. You should hear her. It's beautiful.”

They had just started on their promenade again, when they heard scampering footsteps behind them and a childish voice called:

”Please wait. I want to walk with you.”

It was the pale little boy, Arthur, whose last name they had never learned, racing down the deck after them.

”Why, Arthur, where are the people who look after you?” demanded Billie.

”I thought you were not allowed on deck alone.”

”The doctor is having his bath and the others are still asleep. I dressed alone and came up. Isn't it fun? You'll look after me, won't you?”

”Of course,” said Billie, ”but aren't you disobeying orders? Won't the doctor be angry with you, and perhaps with us, too, for letting you stay on deck?”

”But I have on my reefer and cap,” objected the boy in the tone of one who gives orders and expects them to be obeyed. ”I shall not go down.”

”Very well,” said Billie, ”if that is your decision, we are delighted to have your company, and I hope the walk will do you good. You look as if you needed fresh air and exercise more than anything else.”

”The doctor says that draughts are bad for me and I am not strong enough to take exercise.”

”What are you doing now but exercising in one of the finest draughts that ever blew over the sea, and it only brings the color to your cheeks,” exclaimed Feargus impatiently. ”Where are your parents, boy, that you are left to the care of old fogy doctors and careless tutors?”

”Papa is always very busy,” answered the child. ”Mamma died ever so many years ago.”

”You blessed child,” cried Billie, pressing little Arthur to her side, ”you dear little boy. I'll be a big sister to you, if that will help any.”

”I like you,” said Arthur ingenuously, ”and I like you, too,” he added to Feargus. ”You are the nicest one on the s.h.i.+p and they won't let me speak to you. They never will let me speak to the nicest ones.”

”Not speak to me? And why not, pray?”

”Oh, they know about you,” said Arthur, shaking his head mysteriously.

”There's nothing to know,” exclaimed Feargus exasperated. ”What do they know?”

”They know that your name is 'O'Connor.”

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