whole thing
about the little social game in Germany." He watched his mother
closely, to see if the shot told, and was delighted when he saw it
did.

"Yes; he really looks superior," she admitted. "I have no doubt their
German is quite _perfect_. I wonder--perhaps he might, at one time,
have been someone of distinct importance."

"I have no doubt of it. Anyone can see it makes him sore as a mashed
thumb to have his poverty make him into a free side-show to be stared
at on this old canal-boat. I've seen the 'Cookies' rubbering and
making comments that I know he heard. He flushed red as beets and
took his daughter somewhere where their gimlet stare could not bore to
her. Those glass-eyed school-ma'ams actually drove them out of the
fresh air!"

"He seems to make no friends among the steerage passengers, as all the
others do."

"Those swine? They drive him crazy. The girl is constantly annoyed by
men that try to sidle up to her. I've been half expecting the old man
would bat that big Italian who's always talking New York
politics--shoot him with whatever he has always with him in that
queer, oval case, and throw him to the fish."

"I think that is some instrument--some music thing."

"Might be a flute."

"Perhaps he is some really great musician," Mrs. Vanderlyn said,
speculatively. "They go everywhere in Germany. No doors are closed to
them. It wouldn't be at all surprising for a musician to travel as
he's doing. Such people are eccentric, and often so foolishly
improvident. Something about music makes them so. But they worship
them in Germany. They know the very _highest_ people."

Her son grasped at the suggestion. "Funny, isn't it--how crazy all the
lieber-deutchers are when they hear music! Hoch der Kaiser sets the
pace, himself."

"Yes, I know he does," said Mrs. Vanderlyn, a little shocked by his
irreverent way of making reference to Heaven's Chosen. "Poor things!"
Her sympathy was quite aroused, now. She became quite certain that the
steerage couple had highly influential friends abroad. "Would it
please him, do you think, if I should show the daughter some
attention?"

John knew that "some attention" from his mother to the emigrants would
mean a course of open patronage and he didn't wish to have her try
that on with that particular pair. He shook his head. "I don't believe
they'd stand for it," he said. "But if you could do them some real
kindness--a courtesy that wasn't--er--er--patronizing, it--"