For four days I never left my state-room. "A sea-voyage is an inch of
hell," says an old proverb of my mother's land, and to this proverb I
most heartily assented.
An American girl occupied the "bunk" over mine, and shared with me the
diminutive state-room. She was even sicker than I, and being sisters in
great misery, a sweet sympathy grew up between us, so that under her
direction I chewed and sucked on the sourest of lemons, and under mine
she swallowed lumps of ice, a suggestion made by my father.
On the second day I had recovered somewhat, and so was able to wait
upon and assist her a bit. Also, I found in her a patient and silent
listener (Heaven knows she could not be otherwise, penned up as she was
in that narrow bunk), and I told her all about the glorious plans and
schemes I had made for my famous future; also I brought forth from my
bag numerous poems and stories, and these I poured into her deaf ears
in a voluble stream as she lay shaking and moaning in her bunk.
It had been growing steadily warmer--so warm, indeed, that I felt about
the room to ascertain whether there were some heating-pipes running
through it.
On the fourth day my new friend sat up in her bunk and passionately
went "on strike." She said:
"Say, I wish you'd quit reading me all that stuff. I know it's lovely,
but I've got a headache, and honestly I can't for the life of me take
an interest in your poems and stories."
Deeply hurt, I folded my manuscripts. She leaned out of her berth and
caught at my arm.
"Don't be angry," she said. "I didn't mean to hurt you."
I retorted with dignity that I was not in the slightest degree hurt.
Also I quoted a proverb about casting one's pearls before swine, which
sent her into such a peal of laughter that I think it effectually cured
her of her lingering remnants of seasickness. She jumped out of her
bunk, squeezed me about the waist, and said:
"You're the funniest girl I've ever met--a whole vaudeville act." She
added, however, that she liked me, and as she had her arm about me,
I came down from my high horse, and averred that her affection was
reciprocated. She then told me her name and learned mine. She was
bookkeeper in a large department store. Her health had been bad, and
she had been saving for a long time for this trip to the West Indies.
We decided that we were now well enough to go on deck. As I dressed, I
saw her watching me with a rather wondering and curious expression. My
navy-blue serge dress was new, and although it was a shapeless article,
the color at least was becoming, and with the collar purchased in New
York, I felt that I looked very well. I asked her what she thought of
my dress. She said evasively:
"Did you make it yourself?"