Sukey stood at the narrow window gazing out on the dreary and melancholy scene, while he heaved an occasional sigh.
"If this is what you call gitten an education I don't want it," he drawled at last. "I would rather go back to Ohio and hunt for deer or black bear, than enjoy such amusement as this is."
"Oh, it will get better," said Fernando.
"It has great room for growing better."
"But it might be worse."
"Yes, we might be at sea."
Their landlady, a portly woman with two marriageable daughters, did all in her power to make their stay pleasant. She praised Baltimore for its beauty and health, its picturesqueness and poetry. It was surely destined to be the greatest city in the United States.
When they were alone, Sukey pointed to the mud heaps and duck pools and gravely asked:
"Do they show the poetry and picturesk of which she speaks? Is that old chaise a sign of health or prosperity?"
"Be patient, Sukey; we have seen little or none of Baltimore."