was one of mine.

"New Bedford!" shouted Kinney. His tone expressed the keenest
disappointment. "It's a mill town!" he exclaimed. "It's full of
cotton mills."

"That may be," I protested. "But it's also a most picturesque old
seaport, one of the oldest in America. You can see whaling vessels
at the wharfs there, and wooden figure-heads, and harpoons--"

"Is this an expedition to dig up buried cities," interrupted
Kinney, "or a pleasure trip? I don't WANT to see harpoons! I
wouldn't know a harpoon if you stuck one into me. I prefer to see
hatpins."

The Patience did not sail until six o'clock, but we were so anxious
to put New York behind us that at five we were on board. Our cabin
was an outside one with two berths. After placing our suit-cases
in it, we collected camp-chairs and settled ourselves in a cool
place on the boat deck. Kinney had bought all the afternoon
papers, and, as later I had reason to remember, was greatly
interested over the fact that the young Earl of Ivy had at last
arrived in this country. For some weeks the papers had been giving
more space than seemed necessary to that young Irishman and to the
young lady he was coming over to marry. There had been pictures of
his different country houses, pictures of himself; in uniform, in
the robes he wore at the coronation, on a polo pony, as Master of
Fox-hounds. And there had been pictures of Miss Aldrich, and of
HER country places at Newport and on the Hudson. From the
afternoon papers Kinney learned that, having sailed under his