“C. Q.” or, In the Wireless House
“Damn all the women!” he growled, still smoking, as he saw Mrs. Hubert Trevelyan’s copious blonde coiffure bobbing up the ladder that led to the little coop which served him as office, bedroom, and parlor, and was situated on top of the deck-house in the after part of the Pavonia. Passengers were forbidden access to it; but for Mrs. Trevelyan anything forbidden was sweet—particularly the society of Micky Fitz. And she had no sooner gained the top of the deck-house, and begun adjusting the folds of her white pony-coat and her trim sailor hat, than a steward scurried up after her and knocked on the door of the wireless house.
“Cap’n says report to him at once, and no first-cabin passengers allowed aft the second-cabin deck!” said he rudely.
“Curse the Captain!” snorted Micky. “I suppose I ’ll catch it good and hearty for givin’ out that bulletin this afternoon! Good evening, Mrs. Trevelyan. Sorry I can’ t receive you. The Captain’s sent for me—most pressin’ and particular!”
He smiled a soul-engaging, freckled smile.
“Oh, you naughty child!” protested Mrs. Trevelyan, shaking her finger at him. “Well,11
