In a Steamer Chair, and Other Stories - Barr Robert

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At first he could see only a short distance from the ship. The clouds appeared to have come down on the water, where they hung, lowering. There was no evidence that such a thing as a sun existed. The waves rolled out of this watery mist with an oily look, and the air was so damp and chilly that it made Morris shiver as he looked out on the dreary prospect. He thrust his hands deep into his coat pockets, which seemed to be an indolent habit of his, and walked along the slippery deck to search for the smoking-room. He was thinking of his curious and troublesome dream, when around the corner came the brunette, wrapped in a long cloak that covered her from head to foot. The cloak had a couple of side pockets set angleways in front, after the manner of the pockets in ulsters. In these pockets Miss Earle's hands were placed, and she walked the deck with a certain independent manner which Mr. Morris remembered that he disliked. She seemed to be about to pass him without recognition, when the young man took off his cap and said pleasantly, "Good morning, Miss Earle. You are a very early riser."

      "The habit of years," answered that young lady, "is not broken by merely coming on board ship."

      Mr. Morris changed step and walked beside her.

      "The habit of years?" he said. "Why, you speak as if you were an old woman."

      "I am an old woman," replied the girl, "in everything but one particular."

      "And that particular," said her companion, "is the very important one, I imagine, of years."

      "I don't know why that is so very important."

      "Oh, you will think so in after life, I assure you. I speak as a veteran myself."

      The young lady gave him a quick side glance with her black eyes from under the hood that almost concealed her face.

      "You say you are a veteran," she answered, "but you don't think so. It would offend you very deeply to be called old."

      "Oh, I don't know about that. I think such a remark is offensive only when there is truth in it. A young fellow slaps his companion on the shoulder and calls him 'old man.' The grey-haired veteran always addresses his elderly friend as 'my boy.'"

      "Under which category do you think you come, then?"

      "Well, I don't come under either exactly. I am sort of on the middle ground. I sometimes feel very old. In fact, to confess to you, I never felt older in my life than I did yesterday. Today I am a great deal younger."

      "Dear me," replied the young lady, "I am sorry to hear that."

      "Sorry!" echoed her companion; "I don't see why you should be sorry. It is said that every one rejoices in the misfortunes of others, but it is rather unusual to hear them admit it."

      "It is because of my sympathy for others that I am sorry to hear you are younger today than you were yesterday. If you take to running along the deck today then the results will be disastrous and I think you owe it to your fellow passengers to send the steward with his gong ahead of you so as to give people in steamer chairs warning."

      "Miss Earle," said the young man, "I thought you had forgiven me for yesterday. I am sure I apologised very humbly, and am willing to apologise again to-day."

      "Did I forgive you? I had forgotten?"

      "But you remembered the fault. I am afraid that is misplaced forgetfulness. The truth is, I imagine, you are very unforgiving."

      "My friends do not think so."

      "Then I suppose you rank me among your enemies?"

      "You forget that I have known you for a day only."

      "That is true, chronologically speaking. But you must remember a day on shipboard is very much longer than a day on shore. In fact, I look on you now as an old acquaintance, and I should be sorry to think you looked on me as an enemy."

      "You are mistaken. I do not. I look on you now as you do on your own age—sort of between the two."

      "And which way do you think I shall drift? Towards the enemy line, or towards the line of friendship?"

      "I am sure I cannot tell."

      "Well, Miss Earle, I am going to use my best endeavours to reach the friendship line, which I shall make unless the current is too strong for me. I hope you are not so prejudiced against me that the pleasant effort will be fruitless."

      "Oh, I am strictly neutral," said the young lady. "Besides, it really amounts to nothing. Steamer friendships are the most evanescent things on earth."

      "Not on earth, surely, Miss Earle. You must mean on sea."

      "Well, the earth includes the sea, you know."

      "Have you had experience with steamer friendships? I thought, somehow, this was your first voyage."

      "What made you think so?"

      "Well, I don't know. I thought it was, that's all."

      "I hope there is nothing in my manner that would induce a stranger to think I am a verdant traveller."

      "Oh, not at all. You know, a person somehow classifies a person's fellow-passengers. Some appear to have been crossing the ocean all their lives, whereas, in fact, they are probably on shipboard for the first time. Have you crossed the ocean before?"

      "Yes."

      "Now, tell me whether you think I ever crossed before?"

      "Why, of course you have. I should say that you cross probably once a year. Maybe oftener."

      "Really? For business or pleasure?"

      "Oh, business, entirely. You did not look yesterday as if you ever had any pleasure in your life."

      "Oh, yesterday! Don't let us talk about yesterday. It's to-day now, you know. You seem to be a mind-reader. Perhaps you could tell my occupation?"

      "Certainly. Your occupation is doubtless that of a junior partner in a prosperous New York house. You go over to Europe every year—perhaps twice a year, to look after the interests of your business."

      "You think I am a sort of commercial traveller, then?"

      "Well, practically, yes. The older members of the firm, I should imagine, are too comfortably situated, and care too little for the pleasures of foreign travel, to devote much of their time to it. So what foreign travel there is to be done falls on the shoulders of the younger partner. Am I correct?"

      "Well, I don't quite class myself as a commercial traveller, you know, but in the main you are—in fact, you are remarkably near right. I think you must be something of a mind-reader, as I said before, Miss Earle, or is it possible that I carry my business so plainly in my demeanour as all that?"

      Miss Earle laughed. It was a very bright, pleasant, cheerful laugh.

      "Still, I must correct you where you are wrong, for fear you become too conceited altogether about your powers of observation. I have not crossed the ocean as often as you seem to think. In the future I shall perhaps do so frequently. I am the junior partner, as you say, but have not been a partner long. In fact I am now on my first voyage in connection with the new partnership. Now, Miss Earle, let me try a guess at your occupation."

      "You are quite at liberty to guess at it."

      "But will you tell me if I guess correctly?"

      "Yes. I have no desire to conceal it."

      "Then, I should say off-hand that you are a teacher, and are now taking a vacation in Europe. Am I right?"

      "Tell me first why you think so?"

      "I am afraid to tell you. I do not want to drift towards the line of enmity."

      "You need have no fear. I have every respect for a man who tells the truth when he has to."

      "Well, I think a school teacher is very apt to get into a certain dictatorial habit of speech. School teachers are something like military men. They are accustomed to implicit obedience without question, and this, I think, affects their manner with other people."

      "You think I am dictatorial, then?"

      "Well, I shouldn't say that you were dictatorial exactly. But there is a certain confidence—I don't know just how to express it, but it

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