“No,” I replied. “What is it?”
“Well, it sounds awfully irreverent, but I've come to the conclusion that the first part of the Genesis in the English scriptures must be different than ours. I'm sure they think that the earth was created in six days and, on the seventh, Adam and Eve had tea. I believe it for an absolute fact.”
The pet illusion, the loss of which caused her the most severe shock, was that concerning the nobility. On the morning of our first day afloat the passenger lists were distributed. Hephzibah was early on deck. Fortunately neither she nor I were in the least discomfited by the motion of the ship, then or at any time. We proved to be good sailors; Hephzibah declared it was in the blood.
“For a Knowles or a Cahoon to be seasick,” she announced, “would be a disgrace. Our men folks for four generations would turn over in their graves.”
She was early on deck that first morning and, at breakfast she and I had the table to ourselves. She had the passenger list propped against the sugar bowl and was reading the names.
“My gracious, Hosy!” she exclaimed. “What, do you think! There are five 'Sirs' on board and one 'Lord'! Just think of it! Where do you suppose they are?”
“In their berths, probably, at this hour,” I answered.
“Then I'm goin' to stay right here till they come out. I'm goin' to see 'em and know what they look like if I sit at this table all day.”
I smiled. “I wouldn't do that, Hephzy,” said I. “We can see them at lunch.”
“Oh! O—Oh! And there's a Princess here! Princess B-e-r-g-e-n-s-t-e-i-n—Bergenstein. Princess Bergenstein. What do you suppose she's Princess of?”