e young man who had been kind to them, who,
ten minutes earlier, had all been real and potent interests, dimmed
into hazy phantoms of a bygone activity of mind.

"Oh,--ar-r-r-r-r-r!" M'riar groaned. "Th' bloomink ship is standin' on
'er bloody 'ead, yn't 'er?"

"Garn! Keep yer 'ead _flat_. Lay _down_," the stewardess replied, "er
_you'll_ be."

M'riar kept her head flat.

Out on the open deck, forward of the bridge, where, as well as aft,
the vessel, like many of a bygone type was cut away, leaving the
forward and after railings of the promenade-deck, like the barriers of
a balcony, for the first-cabin passengers to peer across at their less
lucky fellows of the steerage, Herr Kreutzer and his Anna, both
bewildered, stood by their little pile of baggage, waiting for
direction and assistance in searching out their quarters. Surrounding
them a motley group of many nationalities was gathered. There were
Germans, Swedes, some French, some Swiss, a group of heavy-browed and
jowled Hungarians, a few anaemic, underfed young cockneys, and,
dominating all, to the casual eye, because of their bright colors, a
small group of Italians. To these the largest one among them was
making himself clear.

"I," he was saying, "am Pietro Moresco. I have-a da nice political
posish, an' nice-a barber-shop on Mulberry-a Strit. Some-a day I getta
on da force--da pollis-force. Sure t'ing. I been-a home to see ma
moth. I go-a back to make-a da more mon." He pulled out from his
corded bundle of red quilts and coats and rugs some bottles of cheap
wine. "I getta place for all you men." He was beginning, thus early in
the voyage of these would-be citizens, to prepare to use them in the
politics of his over-crowded ward in New York City. "Come-a! We
drink-a to Americ. We drink-a to New York. New York da mos' reech-a
place."

Catching sight of the bewildered beauty of poor Anna, and the no less
bewildered dignity of Herr Kreutzer, being dazzled by the former, as
was everyone in sight, and being quite as anxious to make friends
among prospective German citizens as among those of his own country (a
German vote is likely to be useful, now and then, on Mulberry Street)
he offered her a cup, and, as she took it automatically, would have
poured some wine into it with a gallant smile. Kreutzer took the cup
out of her hand and passed it back to him.

"Bitte," he said, calmly. "I thank you. My daughter does not care for
wine."

Moresco, angered, gave