Page:Aunt Jo's Scrap-Bag, Volume 2.djvu/26

8 Wails greeted her, and faint inquiries as to the state of things in the upper world.

"Blowing a gale; rain, hail, and snow,—very dirty weather; and we are flying off the coast in fine style," was the cheerful reply.

"Have we split any sails?" asked Lavinia, not daring to open her eyes.

"Dozens I dare say. Shipping seas every five minutes. All the passengers ill but me, and every prospect of a north-easter all the way over," continued the lively Amanda, lurching briskly about the passage with her hands in her pockets. Matilda dropped her lemons and her bottles to wring her hands, and Lavinia softly murmured,—

"Breakfast, ladies?" cried the pretty French stewardess prancing in with tea-cups, bowls of gruel, and piles of toast balanced in some miraculous manner all over her arms.

"Oh, take it away! I shall never eat again," moaned Matilda, clinging frantically to the marble, as the water-pitcher went down the middle with a