Vanderlyn was
politic enough to say nothing of her, merely talking of the old man's
impressive bearing, asking his mother to help him speculate about his
history.

"I don't wonder he attracted you," she granted. "He looks very
interesting. I am sure he _has_ a history."

Her gaze was so intent, that, in a few moments, it attracted the
attention of Herr Kreutzer, and the youth, observing that he seemed
annoyed and shamed, hurried her away. Instinctively he had felt the
old man flinch; instinctively he knew his pride, already, had been
sorely hurt by the necessity of "traveling steerage"; that as they
gazed at him the handsome, white-haired, emigrant had felt that his
dire poverty had made of him a curiosity.

The young man led his mother back to her rug-padded deck-chair,
pleased by the result of the first step in what he had resolved must
be a strategy of worth. In some way he must fix things so that
properly and pleasantly he could get acquainted with that girl. This,
he thought (not being a born prophet), could only be accomplished
through his mother, and already he had plans for it indefinitely
sketched out in his mind. Events were fated to assist him and do
better for him than his mother could have done for him, but, of
course, he did not know that then.

From the moment when he saw the dignified old German shrink before his
mother's gaze the youth was careful to avoid appearances of curiosity.
If either old man or young girl came into view while he stood at the
rail, above the steerage-deck, he went away, though other passengers,
attracted by the beauty of the girl, and the distinguished look of the
old man, were less considerate and stared, to their distress. When,
later, the young man saw his mother staring as the others did and as
he had, himself, at first, he hesitantly spoke to her about it.

"Nonsense," she replied. "You give them credit for too much fine
feeling. Attention doubtless flatters them. It always does such
people."

That she had lost her first idea that the pair might be entitled to
unusual consideration bothered him; but he feared, because of his
great plan, to make too vehement defense, so only said, with studied
mildness:

"They are not 'such people', I am sure. You yourself, at first, said
they looked 'different.' It's hard luck, I'll bet a hat, and not a
lack of brains, decency or real distinction that's forced them to herd
down there with those cattle. I'll guarantee they know the