He evaded her politely, climbing the rail with that fluid agility of the young.
“Are you the new steward?” she asked doubtfully, blinking at him.
“Sure, lady,” he agreed courteously, putting his cigarette in his mouth. The other guests stared at him from their deck chairs and slanting his hat forward he ran the gauntlet of their eyes, passing aft to join the two girls. Mrs. Maurier gazed after his high vented coat in astonishment. Then she remarked the blonde girl beside her niece. She blinked again.
“Why—” she began. Then she said: “Patricia, who—”
“Oh, yes,” the niece said, “this is—” she turned to the blonde girl. “What’s your name, Jenny? I forgot.”
“Genevieve Steinbauer,” the blonde girl submitted.
“—Miss Steinbauer. And this one is Pete Something. I met them downtown. They want to go, too.”
Mrs. Maurier transferred her astonishment from Jenny’s vague ripe prettiness to Pete’s bold uncomfortable face. “Why, he’s the new steward, isn’t he?”
“I don’t know.” The niece looked at Jenny again. “Is he?” she asked. Jenny didn’t know either. Pete himself was uncomfortably noncommittal.
“I dunno,” he answered. “You told me to come,” he accused the niece.
“She means,” the niece explained, “did you come to work on the boat?”
“Not me,” Pete answered quickly. “I ain’t a sailor. If she expects me to run this ferry for her, me and Jenny are going back to town.”
“You don’t have to run it. She’s got regular men for that. There’s your steward, anyway, Aunt Pat,” the niece said. “Pete just wanted to come with Jenny. That’s all.”
Mrs. Maurier looked. Yes, there was the steward, descend-
