"Mabel looks quite pale; she was sick, too," said Amy, regarding the doll in her arms with an anxious air. "I hope the fresh h'air will do her good."
"Is she going to have any fresh hair?" asked Katy, wilfully misunderstanding.
"That was what that woman called it,—the fat one who made me come up here. But I'm glad she did, for I feel heaps better already; only I keep thinking of poor little Maria Matilda shut up in the trunk in that dark place, and wondering if she's sick. There's nobody to explain to her down there."
"They say that you don't feel the motion half so much in the bottom of the ship," said Katy. "Perhaps she has n't noticed it at all. Dear me, how good something smells! I wish they would bring us something to eat."
A good many passengers had come up by this time; and Robert, the deck steward, was going about, tray in hand, taking orders for lunch. Amy and Katy both felt suddenly ravenous; and when Mrs. Ashe awhile later
