"A porpoise!" he replied, as if announcing an event of greatest importance.

"A porpoise!" echoed Patty, disgusted. "Such a fuss about a porpoise?

Why, it's nothing but a fish!"

"My dear Miss Fairfield," said the Englishman, looking at her through his single eyegla.s.s, "tradition demands that steamer pa.s.sengers shall always make a fuss over a pa.s.sing porpoise. To be sure it's only a fish, but the fuss is because of tradition, not because of the fish."

Patty had always thought that a single eyegla.s.s betokened a brainless fop, but this stalwart young Englishman wore his monocle so naturally, and, moreover, so securely, that it seemed a component part of him.

And, too, his speech was that of a quick-witted, humorous mind, and Patty began to think she must readjust her opinion.

"Is it an English national trait," she said, "to be so in thrall to tradition?"

"I'm sorry to say it is," young Chester responded, somewhat gravely.

"In the matter of the porpoise it is of no great importance; but there are other matters, do you see, where Englishmen are so hampered by tradition that individual volition is often lost."

This was more serious talk than Patty was accustomed to, but somehow she felt rather flattered to be addressed thus, and she tried to answer in kind.

"But," she said, "if the tradition is the result of the wisdom of past ages, may it not be of more value than individual volition?"

"By Jove!" exclaimed Mr. Chester, "you have a clever little head on your young shoulders, to take that point so adroitly. But let us defer this somewhat serious discussion until another time and see if it is a porpoise or something else that it attracting the curious crowd to the other side of the ship."

As they followed the hurrying people across the deck, Mr. Chester went on: "After you have crossed the ocean a few more times you will discover that there are only two things which make the people rush frantically and in hordes to the rail. The one that isn't a porpoise is a pa.s.sing steamer."

Sure enough, the object of interest this time was a distant steamer, which was clearly visible on the horizon. It was sharply outlined against the blue sky, and the sunlight gave it its true value of colour, while the dark smoke that poured from its smokestack floated back horizontally like a broad ribbon. But owing to the distance there was no effect of motion, and even the smoke as well as the vessel seemed to be stationary.

"That isn't a real steamer," said Patty whimsically; "it's a chromo-lithograph. I've often seen them in the offices of steamship companies. This one isn't framed, as they usually are, but it's only a chromo all the same. There's no mistaking its bright colouring and that badly painted smoke."

Young Chester laughed. "You Americans are so clever," he said. "Now an English girl would never have known that that was only a painted steamer. But as you say, you can tell by the smoke. That's pretty badly done."

Patty took a decided liking to this jesting Englishman, and thought him much more entertaining than the melancholy French musician.

She discovered that very evening that Mr. Chester possessed a fine voice, and when after dinner a dozen or more young people gathered round the chairs of the Farrington party, they all sang songs until Mrs. Farrington declared she never wanted to attend a more delightful concert.

Mr. Pauvret brought his violin, and the Van Ness boys produced a banjo and a madolin. Everybody seemed to sing at least fairly well, and some of the voices were really fine. Patty's sweet soprano received many compliments, as also did Elise's full, clear contralto. The girls were accustomed to singing together, and Mr. Pauvret proved himself a true musician by his sympathetic accompaniments.

Everybody knew the popular songs of the day, and choruses and glees were sung with that enthusiasm which is always noticeable on the water.

The merry party adjourned to the dining-room for a light supper after their vocal exercises.

Patty was sorry that her friend and tablemate, the old Ma'amselle, had not been visible since that first dinner. Upon inquiry she learned that the old lady had fallen a victim to the effects of the rolling sea.

"But she'll soon be around again," said the captain in his bluff, cheery way; "Ma'amselle Labesse has crossed with me many times, and though she usually succ.u.mbs for two or three days, she is a good sailor after that. She is pa.s.sionately fond of music, too, and when she is about again you young people must make the old ship ring for her."

This they readily promised to do, and then they wound up the evening by a vigorous rendition of the "Ma.r.s.eillaise," followed by "The Star Spangled Banner" and "G.o.d Save the King."

It was all a delightful experience for Patty, who dearly loved lights and music and flowers and people and gay goings on, and she felt that she was indeed a fortunate girl to have all these pleasures come to her.

CHAPTER VIII

DAYS AT SEA

The time on shipboard pa.s.sed all too quickly.

Each day was crammed full of various amus.e.m.e.nts and occupations, and Patty and Elise enjoyed it all thoroughly.

Although the majority of pa.s.sengers were French, yet they nearly all spoke English, and there were a number of Americans and English people, who proved to be pleasant and companionable.

The young people from Chicago seemed to wear well, and as she grew to know them better Patty liked them very much. The Van Ness girls, though breezy in their manner, were warm-hearted and good-natured, and their boy cousins were always ready for anything, and proved themselves capable of good comradeship.

The English girl, Florrie Nash, Patty could not quite understand.

Florrie seemed to be willing to be friends, but there was a coldness and reserve about her nature that Patty could not seem to penetrate.

As she expressed it to Elise, "Florrie never seems herself quite certain whether she likes us or we like her."

"Oh, it's only her way," said Elise; "she doesn't know how to chum, that's all."

But Patty was not satisfied with this, and determined to investigate the matter.

"Come for a walk," she said, tucking her arm through Florrie's one morning. "Let's walk around the deck fifty times all by ourselves.

Don't you want to?"

"Yes, if you like;" and Florrie walked along by Patty's side, apparently willing enough, but without enthusiasm.

"Why do you put it that way?" asked Patty, smiling; "don't you like to go yourself?"

"Yes, of course I do; but I always say that when people ask me to do anything. It's habit, I suppose. All English people say it."

"I suppose it is habit," said Patty; "but it seems to me you'd have a whole lot better time if you felt more interest in things, or rather, if you expressed more interest. Now look at the Van Ness girls; they're just bubbling over with enthusiasm."

"The Van Ness girls are savages," remarked Florrie, with an air of decision.

"Indeed they're not!" cried Patty, who was always ready to stand up for her friends. "The trouble with you, Florrie, is that you're narrow-minded; you think that unless people have your ways and your manners they are no good at all."

"Not quite that," returned Florrie, laughing. "Of course, we English have our prejudices, and other people call us narrow; but I think we shall always be so."

"I suppose you will," said Patty; "but anyway you would have more fun if you enjoyed yourself more."

"It's good of you, Patty, to care whether I enjoy myself or not."

Florrie's tone was so sincere and humble as she said this that Patty began to realise there was a good deal of character under Florrie's indifferent manner.

"Of course I care. I have grown to like you, Florrie, in these few days, and I want to be good friends with you, if you'll let me."

"If you like," said Florrie again, and Patty perceived that the phrase was merely a habit and did not mean the indifference it expressed.

"And I want you to visit me," went on Florrie. "I'm travelling now to Paris with my aunt, who took me to the States for a trip. From Paris I shall soon go back to my country home in England, and I wish you would visit me there--you and Elise both. Oh, Patty, you have no idea how beautiful England is in the springtime. The may blooms thickly along the lanes, till they're ma.s.ses of pink fragrance; and the sky is the most wonderful blue, and the birds sing, and it is like nothing else in all the world."