CHAPTER V.
ON THE VOYAGE.
THE morning slipped away rapidly, and by the time the bugle blew its summons for luncheon the little couple had explored the steamer, under Papa's guidance, pretty thoroughly. You know children like to explore, and go scampering about to see all that can be seen, in a new place and amid strange surroundings, and Polly and Teddy made no exception to the rule, you may be sure. They had looked wonderingly down from the first-cabin deck upon the steerage deck, and had taken note of the funny and the too often sad scenes to be found in the steerage of a ship. It was all very interesting and very wonderful to see the emigrants of different nationalities all gathered on the deck: some stretched out in the sun, some eating out of dishes which Polly and Teddy thought looked "very dirty and horrid"; some resting their tired heads on their hands, supporting their elbows on their knees; crowds of little bits of children, babies, and untidy-looking men and women, mingling with others who were far more respectable in appearance, but too poor to be able to pay more than the low steerage fare. Our children took everything in with their bright, attentive eyes, and felt very sorry for those poor passengers below their own clean, comfortable deck. They had made friends with several of the sailors, and the "little sailor" (the captain's boy), and had been stopped by so many of the passengers who wanted to have a chat with the dear little couple that they felt quite well acquainted with everybody. They had—after the easy fashion of all little people—scraped acquaintance with the few other children on board, and had finally gotten tired of racing about, and were really quite as hungry as little bears when luncheon was ready.
The luncheon in the beautiful flower-decked dining-saloon was, I will add, another most interesting event for them; and though they felt a little shy at first, and afraid of the attentive stewards, and of so many strangers at a time all about them, yet I can assure you they behaved like a little prince and princess, and nobody even guessed how shy they were (though everybody near them did notice, I will say just here, what cultivated little table manners "that dear little couple" possessed).
Well, it was some time since luncheon was done with, and while Papa and Mamma were lolling back in their steamer chairs reading, Teddy and Polly were standing close by, looking over the rail. The wind had arisen greatly during the afternoon, and big rolling waves were chasing each other over the water, making "soap-suds" white and foamy as Bridget and Ann at home used to make on washing-days.
Teddy wore a little velvet traveling-cap, black, of course, to match his velvet knickerbockers and the little jacket he wore over his white frilled shirt with its broad white collar. Just now the wind had blown his cap almost off his head (fortunately it couldn't blow it out to sea, for wise Mamma had secured it with a cord to a buttonhole in his jacket), and it was tilted a little on one side of his brown, soft curls, and was giving his pretty face a very roguish expression. Polly was wearing a dainty grey dress and little jacket, and a grey "Tam o' Shanter" cap upon her sunny head. The wind had a fine time blowing her long wavy hair about her shoulders, but her cap was as safely secured as Ted's, so they didn't mind the pranks of the wind, which seemed to blow harder every minute.
Although Teddy's face looked, as I have said, quite roguish, and although Polly was chattering away, seemingly as merrily as possible, yet neither of them felt very roguish or merry, and pretty soon Teddy said, in a sort of subdued tone: "I—I don't really think decks are nice as gardens, do you, Polly?"
"Polly and Teddy made friends with the captain's little boy."