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 but, except a frequent repetition of words which sounded like "van oozle," she could catch nothing of what they said. Very soon she did not wish to listen or understand. The ship continued to pitch, and a quite intolerable nausea rendered her more wretched than she had ever been before. She gave up the effort to sit upright, and lay prone on the deck. Even in this attitude it became impossible to remain still. As the steamer rolled and plunged she began to roll helplessly from side to side. The anæmic girl sat down on the deck and took the poor lady's head upon her lap. For a long time she lay in a state of comatose misery, wakening at last to consciousness of her surroundings with a feeling of damp and cold. It had begun to rain. The steamer was pitching worse than ever, and salt spray joined with the rain in wetting her. She saw that a group of girls had gathered round, and stood swaying sickeningly with the motion of the ship. She heard again the constant repetition of the words "van oozle." Then one of the girls bent over her:

"Is there cold on you, mistress?"

There was, intense cold, but Mrs. Crossley could not say so because of the nausea that came on her afresh. She did the next best thing. She shivered piteously. Then she became suddenly aware that the girl who held her head was also abominably seasick. There was a convulsion, during which she sincerely hoped for a sudden death, and then her head bumped heavily on the deck. In a moment