picturesque blessings, but we were obliged to ask her to desist and
let us attend to our own business.

"Will I clane the whole of thim off for you for a penny, your
ladyship's honour, ma'am?" asked the oldest of the ragamuffins, and
I gladly assented to the novel proposition. He did it, too, and
there seemed to be no hurt feelings in the company.

Just then there was a rattle of cabs and side-cars, and our self-
constituted major-domo engaged two of them to await our pleasure.
At the same moment our eyes lighted upon Salemina's huge Vuitton,
which had been dragged behind the pile of wool sacks. It was no
wonder it had escaped our notice, for it was mostly covered by the
person of the sea-sick maiden whom I had seen on the arm of the
stewardess. She was seated on it, exhaustion in every line of her
figure, her head upon my travelling bag, her feet dangling over the
edge until they just touched the 'S. P., Salem, Mass., U.S.A.'
painted in large red letters on the end. She was too ill to respond
to our questions, but there was no mistaking her nationality. Her
dress, hat, shoes, gloves, face, figure were American. We sent for
the stewardess, who told us that she had arrived in Glasgow on the
day previous, and had been very ill all the way coming from Boston.

"Boston!" exclaimed Salemina. "Do you say she is from Boston, poor
thing?"

("I didn't know that a person living in Boston could ever, under any
circumstances, be a 'poor thing,'" whispered Francesca to me.)

"She was not fit to be crossing last night, and the doctor on the