CHAPTER II.


We met poppa on the Germanic gangway, his hat on the back of his head
and one finger in each of his waistcoat pockets, an attitude which, with
him, always betokens concern. The vessel was at that stage of departure
when the people who have been turned off are feeling injured that it
should have been done so soon, and apparently only the weight of poppa's
personality on its New York end kept the gangway out. As we drove up he
appeared to lift his little finger and three dishevelled navigators
darted upon the cab. They and we and our trunks swept up the gangway
together, which immediately closed behind us, under the direction of an
extremely irritated looking Chief Officer. We reunited as a family as
well as we could in connection with uncoiled ropes and ship discipline.
Then poppa, with his watch in his hand, exclaimed reproachfully, well in
hearing of the Chief Officer, "I gave you ten minutes and you _had_ ten
minutes. You stopped at Huyler's for candy, I'll lay my last depreciated
dollar on it."

My other parent looked guiltily at some oblong boxes tied up in white
paper with narrow red ribbon, which, innocently enough I consider,
enhance the value of life to us both. But she ignored the charge--momma
hates arguments.

"Dear me!" she said, as the space widened between us and the docks. "So
we are all going to Europe together this morning! I can hardly realise
it. Farewell America! How interesting life is."