"No—but that won't deter you from snapping off at it."
Mrs. Blair laughed.
"You are unkind. Some of my photographs are very good."
"About three per cent effective, I should say."
We all went round to the other side of the deck. There glimmering white and snowy, enveloped in a delicate rose-coloured mist, rose the glistening pinnacle. I uttered an exclamation of delight. Mrs. Blair ran for her camera.
Undeterred by Colonel Race's sardonic comments, she snapped vigorously:
"There, that's the end of the roll. Oh," her tone changed to one of chagrin, "I've had the thing at 'bulb' all the time."
"I always like to see a child with a new toy," murmured the Colonel.
"How horrid you are—but I've got another roll."
She produced it in triumph from the pocket of her sweater. A sudden roll of the boat upset her balance, and as she caught at the rail to steady herself the roll of films flashed over the side.
"Oh!" cried Mrs. Blair, comically dismayed. She leaned over. "Do you think they have gone overboard?"
"No, you may have been fortunate enough to brain an unlucky steward in the deck below."
A small boy who had arrived unobserved a few paces to our rear blew a deafening blast on a bugle.
"Lunch," declared Mrs. Blair ecstatically. "I've had nothing to eat since breakfast, except two cups of beef-tea. Lunch, Miss Beddingfeld?"
"Well," I said waveringly. "Yes, I do feel rather hungry."
"Splendid. You're sitting at the purser's table, I know. Tackle him about the cabin."
