“One would think you had never been in a great city before. Wait for me! Remember, I am going everywhere you go. You did not bring me this far from Bellvieu to leave me in the lurch, young lady.”
“Goodness knows, I had no idea of doing anything of the sort, auntie.”
“Well, you just wait! I’m not as spry as I used to be.”
Jim Barlow carefully helped Aunt Betty to the platform, while Ephraim followed with a load of suit cases. Then came Herr and Frau Deichenberg, each with a little hand satchel, the professor guarding jealously his beloved violin. No heavy luggage for the Deichenbergs, the Frau had told Aunt Betty on the journey up from Baltimore.
“Ve shan’t be here for long; de concert occurs to-morrow night, und ve shall go straight back home vhen ve are t’rough,” was the way she put it.
The Herr was attired in his customary black. He had maintained his usual phlegmatic manner all through the journey, and apparently had no intention of departing from it now. Having spent many years in New York after his arrival in America, the city’s fascination for the average mortal seemed to make no appeal to him.
Once off the train, Jim began to search diligently in the crowd for a familiar face. For a moment a blank look expressed his disappointment. Then his features lighted up and he waved his hand at a tall, spectacled gentleman who came eagerly forward to meet him.
“Jim, I am glad to see you,” greeted this individual.