you'll show me the statue of Liberty won't you, grandpa? Isn't it a
splendid boat? Oh, can we go out close to the water?"

Mr. Evringham sighed heavily. He did not wish to go out close to the
water. He wished to sit down in comfort in the cabin and read the paper
which he had just taken from a newsboy. It seemed to him a very long
time since he had done anything he wished to; but a little hand was
pulling eagerly at his, and mechanically he followed out to where the
brisk spring wind ruffled the river and assaulted his hat. He jerked his
hand from Jewel's to hold it in place.

"Isn't this beautiful!" cried the child joyfully, as the boat steamed
on. "Can you do this every day, grandpa?"

"What? Oh yes, yes."

Something in the tone caused the little girl to look up from her view of
the wide water spaces to the grim face above.

"Is there something that makes you sorry, grandpa?" she asked softly.

His eyes were fixed on a ferry boat, black with its human freight, about
to pass them on its way to the city.

"I was wishing I were on that boat. That's all."

The little girl lifted her shoulders. "I don't believe there's room,"
she said, looking smilingly for a response from her companion. "I don't
believe even Anna Belle could squeeze on. Do you think so?"