Men were carrying baggage on board the tender. Mr. Campbell spoke to one of them, directing him to the stateroom of his daughter. Then, holding the babe on one arm, he gave the other to Jennie, and led her across the gangplank and on board the tender, where by this time all the passengers were gathered.
In a few minutes the tender put off from the ship and steamed to the piers, where she soon arrived. The passengers swarmed out.
Mr. Campbell called a cab, put his daughter and her child into it, followed them and gave the order: To the Lime Street Railway Station.
When they reached the place the minister stopped the cab, got out and took the babe from her mother’s arms, and led the way into a second-class waiting-room.
“You will stay here, my dear,” he said, “while I go back to the custom house and get your baggage through. You will not mind?”
“Oh, no, dearest father. I shall not mind anything, except missing the sight of your dear face, even for a minute. It seems to me as if I should never bear to lose sight of you again.”
“I shall come back as soon as possible, my dear,” said the minister; and he found for her a comfortable seat, placed the baby in her arms, and so left her in the waiting-room.
Jennie sat there without feeling the time pass wearily, after all; her mind was too full of delightful anticipations of homegoing.
Nearly an hour passed, and then her father came hurrying in.
“It is all done, my dear. Your trunks are rescued from the custom house and deposited on the train, and now we have five minutes left in which to take some refreshments, if you would like,” he said cheerfully.