“Well, my dear, when we get to Liverpool, I will telegraph to one of my grooms to bring the dog to us.”
“Dear uncle! how I love you!”
A week from this time the whole party were settled at the Adelphi Hotel, in Liverpool, to await the day of their sailing for New York.
Mr. Force kept his room. The Earl of Enderby spent hours in his own apartment with his family solicitor and his land steward, both of whom had been summoned by telegraph to meet him at Liverpool.
The ladies of the family spent their days in final shopping, providing themselves, among other conveniences, with thick linsey-woolsey suits for sea wear, and with heavy Astrakhan wool shawls for wraps.
In due time the groom from Enderby arrived with Wynnette’s dog in his charge. Space does not permit to describe the interview between the two. It is enough to hint that Joshua, in dog language, bitterly reproached his mistress for breaking faith with him, and deserting him for so long a time, and then magnanimously forgave her, while Wynnette was all apologies for the past and protestations for the future.
On Saturday, the twenty-third of March, the whole party embarked on board the ocean steamer Asia, then at anchor in the Mersey, and bound to sail for New York at twelve, noon, of that day.
There was the usual crowd on deck; with the usual partings; friends departing, and friends who had come to send them off; some grave, some cheerful, some merry, some despondent.
At length this was all interrupted by the shout of the first mate from the poop:
“All ashore!”