worshipped from afar (a woman can always tell when a man's thinking about her), and while I wouldn't have had him act otherwise for the world, I was crazy to have him speak to me. 

 Our boat docked at Hoboken, and by tipping right and left I managed to be the very first passenger down the gangway. I half ran, half slid, but I landed in Dad's arms. 

 My boxes and bags passed through the custom-house with flying colors. But my trunks—I couldn't even find them all. Five of them were stacked in the "M" division, but the other two.... Then there was my maid's trunk to look for under the "V's" (her name is Valentine). Dad and I were commencing at "A," prepared to got through the whole alphabet, if necessary, when the nice young man stepped up and, raising his hat, asked if he might be of any service. He asked Dad, but he looked at me. 

 "Oh, If you please!" I said "I've lost two trunks. My brand is a white, 'M' in a red circle." 

 "I noticed them in the 'R' pile" he replied. "I'll have them moved to the 'M's' right away." 

 "Now that's what I call being decent," said Dad, as soon as the young man had left us. "Did you notice, he didn't wear a uniform? Probably an inspector, or something of the sort, eh, Elizabeth?" 

 "Well—er—not exactly," I managed to say. "The fact is, Dad, he came over on the boat with me, and—" 

 Dad looked thoughtful. 

 "He never spoke to me once the whole trip," I added hastily. 

 Dad looked less thoughtful. 

 "It was nice of him to wait till I had you with me, wasn't it?" 

 Dad smiled. "If you think it was, it probably was, my dear," he said. 

 

 

 Chapter Three 

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