"Father," she asked presently, "why did you change the tickets?"

"Change the tickets, Anna? I have not changed the tickets."

"But you told the landlady we were to sail from Southampton. The
tickets, which you showed to me, say Liverpool."

"A little strategy, mine Anna; just a little strategy."

"I do not understand."

"No, liebschen; you do not," he granted gravely.

A moment later and the cab jounced over a loose paving-block, almost
unseating M'riar from her place on the rear springs. The little scream
she gave attracted the attention of the vehicle's two passengers and
they peered from the window at the rear; but it was small and high and
they did not catch sight through it of the strange, ragged little
figure, with the set, determined face, which was clinging to their
chariot with a desperate tenacity.

M'riar's feelings would have been difficult of real analysis and she
did not try to analyze them, any more than a devoted dog who
desperately follows his loved master when that master is not cognizant
of it and does not wish it, tries to analyze the dog-emotions which
compel him to cling to the trail. Such a dog knows quite enough, at
such a time, to keep clear of his master's view, although his
following is an expression of his love and though that love is born,
he knows, of like love in his master's heart for him. M'riar was