“C. Q.”; or, In the Wireless House
“Poor little girl!“ exclaimed Micky, touched to the quick. “Poor little girl!“
Before he knew it he had taken her in his arms and she was crying hysterically with her head on his shoulder.
“By George! This won’t do!“ he thought, “suppose somebody should walk in on the party unexpectedly?“
“Look here, Miss Bennett,“ he said soothingly. “I ’m afraid we ’ll have to go somewhere else. You ’ve had a hard time. You ’re all unstrung. But try and brace up!“
The girl attempted to restrain her sobs, but without success.
“I ’m all alone!“ she cried brokenly. “They won’t even let me see my brother! And I thought we were going down with him locked in his state-room!“
“Oh I say!“ cried Micky, “you don’t mean old Ponsonby refuses to let you talk to him?“
“Yes,“ she answered. “Not a word can pass between us. I have n’t a soul to speak to. I don’t know anybody! And I don’t know what to do!“
“Poor child!“ exclaimed Micky. “Well,
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