CHAPTER XVII
MR. TROUNCER’S STORY
ON the morning of the fifth day out, Miss Sadie Lawrence was awake when I got up which was surprising. The first intimation I had of the fact was when I was doing my hair. We had a little bit of looking-glass stuck against the wall where no light could reach it, so that, no matter how easy-going you might be, you might count upon losing your temper every time you tried to find out what you looked like from the back.
“Swearing at the looking-glass?” was the first remark she made.
“I was doing nothing of the kind,” I told her; “no one has ever heard me swear yet. I was only saying to myself that I wish they’d put this mirror where one could see something.”
“They won’t; they never do.” Presently she added, “I’m fed up with your old ship! Next time I cros
