was twenty minutes late at starting the first time, and just a half-
hour behind schedule time when, having rushed back to her rooms for
her gloves, which in the excitement of the moment she had forgotten,
she started finally for the ship. Even then all would have been well
had the unfortunate author not overlooked one other vital point.
Instead of sending the cab straight down Fifth Avenue, to Broadway,
to Barclay Street, he sent it down Sixth, and thence through
Greenwich Village, emerging at West Street at its junction with
Christopher, and then the inevitable happened.

THE CAB WAS BLOCKED!

"I had no idea it was so far," said Marguerite, looking out of the
cab window at the crowded and dirty thoroughfare.

"It's a good mile farther yet," replied Mrs. Willard. "I shall have
just that much more of your society."

"It looks to me," said Marguerite, with a short laugh, as the cab
came suddenly to a halt -"it looks to me as if you were likely to
have more than that of it; for we are in an apparently inextricable,
immovable mixture of trucks, horse-cars, and incompetent policemen,
and nothing short of a miracle will get us a mile farther along in
twenty minutes."

"I do believe you are right," said Mrs. Willard, looking at her watch
anxiously. "What will you do if you miss the steamer?"

"Escape a horrid fate," laughed Marguerite, gayly.