Meanwhile, every morning brought a fresh surprise from that dear,
painstaking Rose, who had evidently worked hard and thought harder in
contriving pleasures for Katy's first voyage at sea. Mrs. Barrett was
enlisted in the plot, there could be no doubt of that, and enjoyed the
joke as much as any one, as she presented herself each day with the
invariable formula, "A letter for you, ma'am," or "A bundle, Miss, come
by the Parcels Delivery." On the fourth morning it was a photograph of
Baby Rose, in a little flat morocco case. The fifth brought a wonderful
epistle, full of startling pieces of news, none of them true. On the
sixth appeared a long narrow box containing a fountain pen. Then came
Mr. Howells's "A Foregone Conclusion," which Katy had never seen; then a
box of quinine pills; then a sachet for her trunk; then another
burlesque poem; last of all, a cake of delicious violet soap, "to wash
the sea-smell from her hands," the label said. It grew to be one of the
little excitements of ship life to watch for the arrival of these daily
gifts; and "What did the mail bring for you this time, Miss Carr?" was a
question frequently asked. Each arrival Katy thought must be the final
one; but Rose's forethought had gone so far even as to provide an extra
parcel in case the voyage was a day longer than usual, and "Miss Carr's
mail" continued to come in till the very last morning.

Katy never forgot the thrill that went through her when, after so many
days of sea, her eyes first caught sight of the dim line of the Irish
coast. An exciting and interesting day followed as, after stopping at
Queenstown to leave the mails, they sped northeastward between shores
which grew more distinct and beautiful with every hour,--on one side
Ireland, on the other the bold mountain lines of the Welsh coast. It was
late afternoon when they entered the Mersey, and dusk had fallen before
the Captain got out his glass to look for the white fluttering speck in