The stewardess beamed at her as she opened it, then saying again, "Yes,
'm, by post, m'm," withdrew, and left Katy to enjoy the little surprise.

The letter was not long, but it was very like its writer. Rose drew a
picture of what Katy would probably be doing at the time it reached
her,--a picture so near the truth that Katy felt as if Rose must have
the spirit of prophecy, especially as she kindly illustrated the
situation with a series of pen-and-ink drawings, in which Katy was
depicted as prone in her berth, refusing with horror to go to dinner,
looking longingly backward toward the quarter where the United States
was supposed to be, and fishing out of her port-hole with a crooked pin
in hopes of grappling the submarine cable and sending a message to her
family to come out at once and take her home. It ended with this short
"poem," over which Katy laughed till Mrs. Ashe called feebly across the
entry to ask what _was_ the matter?

"Break, break, break
And mis-behave, O sea,
And I wish that my tongue could utter
The hatred I feel for thee!

"Oh, well for the fisherman's child
On the sandy beach at his play;
Oh, well for all sensible folk
Who are safe at home to-day!

"But this horrible ship keeps on,
And is never a moment still,
And I yearn for the touch of the nice dry land,