they were a hedge swayed by the wind, while Mr. Wrenn
self-consciously hurried to get past them.

He was too excited to worry over the patient and quiet suffering
with which Mrs. Zapp heard the announcement that he was going.
That Theresa laughed at him for a cattleman, while Goaty, in the
kitchen, audibly observed that "nobody but a Yankee would travel
in a pig-pen, "merely increased his joy in moving his belongings
to a storage warehouse.

Tuesday morning, clad in a sweater-jacket, tennis-shoes, an old
felt hat, a khaki shirt and corduroys, carrying a suit-case
packed to bursting with clothes and Baedekers, with one hundred
and fifty dollars in express-company drafts craftily concealed,
he dashed down to Baraieff's hole. Though it was only
eight-thirty, he was afraid he was going to be late.

Till 2 P.M. he sat waiting, then was sent to the Joy Steamship
Line wharf with a ticket to Boston and a letter to Trubiggs's
shipping-office: "Give bearer Ren as per inclosed receet one
trip England catel boat charge my acct. SYLVESTRE BARAIEFF, N. Y."


Standing on the hurricane-deck of the Joy Line boat, with his
suit-case guardedly beside him, he crooned to himself tuneless
chants with the refrain, "Free, free, out to sea. Free, free,
that's _me!_" He had persuaded himself that there was practically
no danger of the boat's sinking or catching fire. Anyway, he
just wasn't going to be scared. As the steamer trudged up East
River he watched the late afternoon sun brighten the Manhattan