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"'Yn't I?" she asked briskly, and, seeing that Herr Kreutzer and his Anna had passed quite out of sight into the ship's mysterious interior, went up the gang-plank hurriedly, fearing to lose sight of them. She did not realize that on an impulse she was starting to go a quarter of the way around the earth.
Miss Anna, Herr Kreutzer and the fine young man who had been kind to them, who, ten minutes earlier, had all been real and potent interests, dimmed into hazy phantoms of a bygone activity of mind. "Oh, ar-r-r-r-r-r!" M'riar groaned. "Th' bloomink ship is standin' on 'er bloody 'ead, yn't 'er?" "Garn! Keep yer 'ead flat. Lay down," the stewardess replied, "er you'll be." M'riar kept her head flat.
"Garn, Frawgs!" he sneered, to the resentful Frenchman. "Yer 'yn't fit ter sye ther time o' dye ter 'er; yer knows yer 'yn't." "Wat? To ze daughtaire of a flute!" the Second-Violin replied. "W'y " "Garn!" said the drummer. "Sye, yer myke me sick! You, with yer black-'aired fyce an' paytent boots!
It is good to hold you so, again!" He clasped her in his arms. "'Yn't it beautiful!" M'riar muttered, gazing at them. "W'ite as snow 'is 'air looks, w'en 'ers that is that dark, is hup hagainst it close, like that!" "Dear old father!" Anna cried, as she drew back.
He had thought that Anna might have reached the tenement by that time, for he had gone out a second time and made a number of delightful, although meagre purchases. "No signs," said M'riar. "Yn't see a sign of 'er. But hit cawn't be long before she'll be 'ere, can it?" "No, M'riar; not long." The place was poorly furnished.
"Child, you could not carry it." "I could," said Anna, quickly, and tried to take it from his hand, abashed that the small servant should have been more thoughtful of him than she was. "Not much yer cawn't," said M'riar, positively. "I 'yn't goin' ter let yer, miss. Ketch me! Me let yer carry bags! My heye!" "But M'riarrr," Anna answered. "You are so very little and it iss so very big!"
"W'at would Hi want o' luggage? Think Hi'm a hactress startin' hout hon tour?" "Tykes six poun' ten to land on t'other side," the officer went on, suspiciously. "'Yn't got that, nyther, 'ave yer?" "Betcher bloomink heye Hi gawt it," said M'riar confidently, and stooped as if she would pull out her wealth to show him, then and there. "Hin yer stawckin', eh?" the man said grinning.
"Hi s'y!" she cried, and dashed into the gloomy cubby-hole. "Wot's this? You scrubbin'? Drop it, now, you 'ear? Hit 'yn't fer me to show no disrespeck, Frowline, but drop it. Hi 'yn't a-goin' to have them pretty 'ands hall spoilt." "But, M'riarrr, I just love to scrub." "Don't love hanythink so vulgar," M'riar replied without a moment's hesitation.
"Hi, w'ere's yer ticket?" that fierce female cried, and M'riar showed it to her, weakly, scarcely caring whether it entitled her to passage or condemned her to expulsion from the ship by a sharp toss overside. "Garn in there," said the stewardess, studying the ticket and its bearer's symptoms simultaneously. "S'y, yer goin' ter be a nice sweet passenger to 'ave hon board, now 'yn't yer?"
W'y, 'yn't Hi halmost learnt me letters off from bundle carts an' 'oardings? M, he, hay, t that spells 'beef. The bobby on hour beat, 'e told me, an' Hi 'yn't fergot a mite. T, haych, he, hay, t, r, he, spells 'show. 'E told me that, too. Hi 'yn't one as would st'y hignorant, Hi 'yn't." "Fer Gawd's sake!" said the officer, entirely nonplussed by this display of the girl's erudition.
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