HEN the big liner docked which brought Hulda from the port of Hamburg one might have seen three anxious-looking men standing on the pier. Hulda had been the pet of the ship during the trip. She booked a passage second class, but, because of her good looks and varied accomplishments, she was invited to the saloon to play and sing. There was a halo of romance about her, as she was on her way to New York to become a bride, and it was said that a young scion of a wealthy family or board had fallen desperately in love with her—a circumstance which greatly enhanced her importance in the minds of the other passengers.
Hulda appeared on the dock a few minutes after the big steamer had tied up, with two trunks filled to overflowing with finery and $8 in her pocket-book. Like the majority of the fair sex, Hulda, when questioned by the immigration inspector, fibbed about her age, saying she was but 17, instead of 20. This at once led to complications, for, when two of her lovers lined up to claim her, each was confronted with a grave problem. Neither of them knew how to get a 17-year-old girl past the immigration authorities. The farmer from New Jersey was first to assert his claim to the fair Hulda, but he did not come prepared to have the knot tied; he brought no aged mother or aunt, so his claim was disregarded. He shook his head sadly and said, “Well, here’s where I’m out $284, but perhaps ’tis just as well, for I think she is a little too fine for a farm in Jersey, anyhow.”
The next applicant, a Southern gentleman from Savannah, now stepped forward. He showed many letters he had received from Hulda and displayed an earnestness, too, which would have helped him anywhere in the world except on that pier. It was evident that Hulda admired him greatly, and when he told the interpreter he had property which had been valued for taxes at $60,000 it was with difficulty that the girl could keep herself from running into his arms. But he was obliged to leave without her, and Ellis Island stared her in the face.
It was at this juncture that the “architect of the Canal Zone” came forward to claim her. “I think this young lady belongs to me,” he told the immigration inspector, with a thin little smile. “I have been taking an interest in her for several months, and I’ve her mother’s consent to marry her.” The papers were carefully examined, and the interpreter told Hulda that this was the man who had the proper claim upon her. “According to your mother’s letters,” he said, “he is your guardian, and if you do not marry him he has the right to send you back to Germany.”
“Gott in Himmel! I must go back now?” said poor Hulda, bursting into tears.
“The neighbors would say that the man in New York didn’t like you and turned you down,” said the wily interpreter, “so if I were you I’d stay and marry this nice, clean-looking old man. He has a good position down where the Americans are digging the canal, and I bet you he has plenty of money. Get some of it away from him, and in a few weeks, if you want to, you can get a divorce. Over here in America, if a man and his wife can’t agree, they go to a judge and get a divorce.”
“I’ll tell you what I’ll do,” said Hulda, her face brightening, “I’ll go up to the big city of New York with him and will then run away.”
“Oh, but you will have to marry him right here in the presence of these men, and I shall have to stay and interpret the ceremony.”
During this conversation the “architect” stood apart, quietly awaiting the verdict. There were many interested spectators, who gazed admiringly upon the graceful girl and wondered what it was all about.
Hulda wept copiously, and, the heart of the Vickingstadt being touched, he made an attempt to console her, saying, “Darling thrish, I’ll make you happy. I’ll give you jewels and laces galore. What makes you take on so?”