It soon became clear that Mrs.
Higgman knew the whole situation, for one day she said to Cissie in her
odd dialect, burred with Yankeeish "r's" and "ing's."
"These river-r towns, Mrs. Siner-r, are jest like one big village, with
the river-r for its Main Street. I know ever-r'thang that goes on,
through the cabin-boys an' cooks, an'--an'--you cerrtainly ar-re a dear-
r, Mrs. Siner-r," and thereupon, quite unexpectedly, she kissed Cissie.
So on about the second day down the river Cissie dropped her saddened
manner and became frankly, freely, and riotously happy. After the
fashion of village negresses, she insisted on helping Mrs. Higgman with
her work, and, incidentally, she cultivated Mrs. Higgman's Northern
accent. When the chambermaid was out on her errands and Cissie found a
moment alone with Peter, she would tweak his ear or pull his cheek and
provoke him to kiss her. Indeed, it was all the hot, shuddering little
laundry-room could do to contain the gay and bubbling Cissie.
Peter thought and thought, resignedly now, but persistently, how this
strange happiness that belonged to them both could be.
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