Mary's tears of fear and frustration were frozen on her face. Her body shook with cold, though she was growing numb. She couldn't think straight; thoughts chased each other across her mind. She lifted her head off the item she was laying on (though it took a great effort, as her hair had been frozen to it) and she looked around. Closest to her, barely visible in the dark, was a person. She desperately tried to form words, but what little strength she had soon evaporated. She set her head back down and forced her thoughts away from the here and now, and back to the past few days . . .
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" . . . and you must keep your elbows off the table at all times," concluded Aunt Ellen.
It was the third day of her voyage, and Mary had been receiving vigorous manner lessons at meal times. Though the rules were extensive, she found that she rather enjoyed learning about fork and spoon placements and such.
That day, for lunch, Mary and Aunt Ellen were dining on fish. Mary wasn't certain what kind (the name had been French), but she enjoyed it all the same. Meals were elegant affairs, with bands playing and waiters and waitresses walking about.
"You know what I think?" said Aunt Ellen, spearing a piece of fish with her fork. "I think my favorite part of a ship just might be the food. Oh, sure, the furnishings are beautiful, the view is great, and it's nice being on the ocean, but this food is just unbeatable!"
Marry nodded in agreement. "I've never tasted anything quiet like it."
They finished up their meal and exited the dining room. Aunt Ellen shifted uncomfortably in the grand hallway.
"I'm sorry," she apologized. "I really don't know what to do. I've had no children of my own. Should I let you do your own thing, or follow you around, or what?"
Mary laughed. "I can pretty much fend for myself. You don't have to worry about me."
Aunt Ellen sighed in visible relief. "If you need me, I might be on deck, or in the library." She wandered away.
Mary stood still for a moment, soaking up the feeling of freedom. She had never been left alone like this; free to go wherever she pleased. After standing there for a moment, grinning to herself, she dashed to her cabin to retrieve her art supplies.
After Mary had finished her sketch of a man and a child standing by the railing of the ship, grasping hands, she thought hard. What Mary really wanted to do was explore the ship. She had mainly been on the top deck and a few floors below; never in the bowels of the ship. With growing excitement, Mary gathered her supplies and went off in search of adventure.
She strolled along the lavish and spacious hallways, trying to look innocent and inconspicuous. Her eyes darted around, searching for a way down. It seemed the people up here were unconcerned about going below; staircases were glaringly absent. Finally she found a metal staircase, a strange contrast to the elegant surrounding. Glancing around casually to ensure she was unwatched, she ducked into it and began to descend.
Down, down, down Mary climbed, giggling silently to herself at the pure thrill of it. She wasn't even sure she was allowed down here. She had an excuse ready, however; if anyone asked, she was just a silly little girl that got lost. She giggled harder than ever.
She passed many doors leading off the staircase, but none that satisfied her desire to go deep into the ship. Finally, after descending for several minutes straight, she decided to explore passed the door she had come to. She excitedly yanked it open.
Mary felt immediately out of place. She was wearing one of the dresses Aunt Ellen had picked out for her, and it made her stand out like milk on black cloth. In fact, she would have fit right in if she had been wearing clothes from the farm.
Many people were here, scurrying about. They all looked different, too. While the people in first class often seemed to blend together, as they all wore similar clothes, it was obvious here that these people came from many different places. Mary heard many different languages.
Another thing that struck Mary was how different the hallway looked. Not only was it overcrowded, but it was inelegant and crude, at least compared to first class.
Mary stared around in shock. Then someone caught her eye. It was a girl about her age, with dark, piercing eyes. She was staring at Mary with intensity that Mary couldn't quite place. Was it hate? Mary shut the door and ascended the stairs, more than a little scared.
Later that evening, when Mary and Aunt Ellen met up, Mary was still thinking about her journey down into the ship. She decided to bring it up with her aunt.
Unsure of how to ask her, Mary just dove in. "Aunt Ellen, today I snuck down into the ship."
Rather than being angry, Aunt Ellen burst into laughter. "Ah, you remind me of myself when I was young." She laughed again. "And what did you discover down there?"
"Well, I think it was the third class section. The conditions were poor, especially compared to here."
Aunt Ellen stared at her blankly, as if waiting for more.
"It somewhat . . . disturbed me . . ." said Mary softly.
"My dear, it's a matter of money," said Aunt Ellen airily, waving a hand about. "Those with more money get the best."
Mary's curiosity was piqued. She set a mission for herself: she was going to return to the third class section. She was going to learn about it. She was going to talk to that girl.
