at'll you do now?" said Eva; "that trunk is too full to
be shut down."

"It _must_ shut down," said aunty, with the air of a general, as she
squeezed the things in, and sprung upon the lid;--still a little gap
remained about the mouth of the trunk.

"Get up here, Eva!" said Miss Ophelia, courageously; "what has been done
can be done again. This trunk has _got to be_ shut and locked--there are
no two ways about it."

And the trunk, intimidated, doubtless, by this resolute statement, gave
in. The hasp snapped sharply in its hole, and Miss Ophelia turned the
key, and pocketed it in triumph.

"Now we're ready. Where's your papa? I think it time this baggage was
set out. Do look out, Eva, and see if you see your papa."

"O, yes, he's down the other end of the gentlemen's cabin, eating an
orange."

"He can't know how near we are coming," said aunty; "hadn't you better
run and speak to him?"

"Papa never is in a hurry about anything," said Eva, "and we haven't
come to the landing. Do step on the guards, aunty. Look! there's our
house, up that street!"

The boat now began, with heavy groans, like some vast, tired monster,
to prepare to push up among the multiplied steamers at the levee. Eva
joyously pointed out the various spires, domes, and way-marks, by which
she recognized her native city.

"Yes, yes, dear; very fine," said Miss Ophelia. "But mercy on us! the
boat has stopped! where is your father?"

And now ensued the usual turmoil of landing--waiters running twenty ways
at once--men tugging trunks, carpet-bags, boxes--women anxiously calling
to their children, and everybody crowding in a dense mass to the plank
towards the landing.

Miss Ophelia seated herself resolutely on the lately vanquished trunk,
and marshalling all her goods and chattels in fine military order,
seemed resolved to defend them to the last.

"Shall I take your trunk, ma'am?" "Shall I take your baggage?" "Let me
'tend to your baggage, Missis?" "Shan't I carry out these yer, Missis?"
rained down upon her unheeded. She sat with grim determination, upright
as a darning-needle stuck in a board, holding on her bundle of umbrella
and parasols, and replying with a determination that was enough to
strike dismay even into a hackman, wondering to Eva, in each interval,
"what upon earth her papa could be thinking of; he couldn't have fallen
over, now,--but something must have happened;"--and just as she had
begun to work herself into a real distres