them. "'Honey, how's Baby?'" he whispered loathingly. "'Honey, how's Baby?'" A slight convulsion resulted, and again he called upon a higher power.
"You feelin' any better, Baby?" the terrible Midlander in the next room inquired.
But the voice of the objectionably suffering woman rebuked him faintly. "Let Libby alone. Don't lean over her. You're letting drops of water drip down on her off your overcoat. How'd you get so wet?"
"On deck. I found a door I guess they forgot to dock and went out there. Got tired sittin' around that smokin'-room upstairs; there aren't but two other men up there; all the rest of the passengers seasick, every last one of 'em, the barkeeper says; and those two that weren't didn't show much signs of sociability—Easterners, I expect; scared to talk to anybody. So I hunted around till I found this door that hadn't been locked; and my, my, but there's big doin's goin' on outdoors up there! It's a pity you and Baby got to miss it."
Upon this a third voice spoke unexpectedly, a girl's: "Quit calling me 'Baby'!"
It was a sweet and peevish voice; sweet musically,
