A week later Dudley Sherrod and wife sailed from New York. As the huge ship left the dock, Celeste, clasping his arm and looking up into his face, somber with thoughts of the future, exclaimed:
"We are at sea! We are at sea!"
"Yes," he said, slowly. "We are at sea."
*****
"I see in a Chicago paper that a feller named Dudley Sherrod wuz married t'other day," remarked Postmaster Hardesty to Parson Marks while the latter was waiting for his mail at the tollgate a few days later. "Cur'os, how derned big this world is, ain't it, parson?"
"Oh, Chicago is a world in itself," said the parson.
"Kinder startled me when I seen that name," Jim went on, pausing in his perusal of a postal card directed to Martin Grimes. "By ginger, Martin's been buyin' hogs up in Grant township—I mean—er—I sh'd say that this is a derned big world," he stammered, guiltily dropping the card behind the counter. "I reckon there's a hunderd Sherrods in Chicago, though."
"Oh, I daresay you'd find three or four Dudley Sherrods there if you looked through the directory."
"Our Jud has jist gone to the old country, Harve Crose tells me."
"Is it possible?"