“Well, there's one thing, little girlie,” said her father; “there are wonderful places in England, which I mean you shall see; and how long we stay in Windsor depends—”
“Entirely upon how they treat us,” chimed in Mrs. Harris.
“Exactly; so it becomes us not to worry about any foolish little ifs.” And worry they did not from that moment, not one of the happy trio, about anything under the sun, or over it, and they sailed away with bright and happy faces. Tears were for eyes that left nearest and dearest behind, not for those who took them with them; and yet a wistful look, that was often to be seen on Mrs. Harris's expressive face, deepened as the Majestic steamed down the harbor. And when they reached the point where the white stones of Greenwood look down on the water, she stole alone to the rail of the deck, and the wistfulness turned to a mist that hid everything for a moment.
“Mamma is saying good-by to Jack and Louis,” said Marie-Celeste softly, and her father pressed the little hand that lay in his, but did not answer.
Marie-Celeste was up betimes the next morning—that is, if betimes means bright and early, and, stopping for a few minutes on her way to indulge in a savory cup of arrowroot, which the stewardess had made ready for her, she passed on up the stairs and out on to the saloon deek, looking as fresh and sweet in her dress of sailor-blue as a fair little morning-glory. The pity was there was nobody there to see, for there's nothing like the bloom of the very early morning-glory.
The decks were still wet from their daily mopping, the folded steamer chairs were ranged five deep beneath the cabin windows, and nothing seemed to be quite in shape yet save her own tidy little self. She went forward as far as she could to the bow, and then turned her back toward everything, so as to see how it seemed to be way out at sea; and not being conscious of any remarkable sensations, was somewhat disappointed. “Out of sight of land” had always stood with Marie-Celeste for such an awe-inspiring condition of affairs that she expected to feel all sorts of chilly and creepy feelings when she fairly faced the thought; and yet here she stood, alone to all intents and purposes, and no land anywhere, and yet not so much as the suggestion of a chill or a creep. She turned round and looked at the ship, and smiled at the man at the wheel, and guessed she knew what the trouble was, and guessed right. She wasn't a bit afraid; that was the secret of her disappointment, if it could in truth be called a disappointment. It was such a beautiful, stanch, great ship, with its large masts and spars and network of interlacing halyards, that its wideness meant more to her just then than even the wideness of the sea; and she felt so safe and at home on it withal, that all the expected uncanny sensations had need to be postponed to some more favorable occasion. With this cherished illusion so soon disposed of, she decided to take a little turn on the deck. The steamer was pitching a good deal—“pitching horribly,” some of the passengers below would have told you, but all the more fun for Marie-Celeste; and plunging her hand deep in her reefer pocket, she set off at a swinging gait. Now it was all up-hill, and the wind blowing such a gale that she had need to bend way over, holding firmly to her sailor hat the while, to make any headway whatever; and now in a trice it was very much down-hill indeed, and the little knees had to be stiffly braced to prevent her ladyship from bowling along at a dangerously rapid pace.
But it was all fun. She didn't see how people, inclusive of certain near relatives of her own, could be willing to keep their state-rooms after seven o'clock on such a glorious morning. She only wished she had some one to enjoy it with her; and a few minutes later the wish came true, and in such delightfully surprising fashion. Just as she was nearing the break in the saloon deck that grants an open sky space to the steerage, she discovered some one coming toward her on the deck of the second-class cabin—some one who looked familiar, notwithstanding the absence of gray coat and brass buttons.