of the latest
Fifth Avenue divorcee.

"Where does that kid sleep?" I asked an officer. I was shown his bunk
below, and there I found I had guessed right. For the side and the top
and both ends of his bunk were lined with red headlines and newspaper
pictures all carefully cut and pasted on. Five of the New York "Giants"
were there.

And as though the fresh fierce hungriness had passed from that small
heathen's soul into my own, that day I again became a reporter of things
to be seen in the port of New York.

Back into the dockshed I went, and all up and down and in and out among
piles of strange and odorous stuffs. And once more I felt the wonder of
this modern ocean world. I followed this raw produce of Mother Earth's
four corners back into those factory buildings ashore. I saw it made
into chewing-gum, toys, sofas, glue, curled hair and wall-paper. I saw
it made into ladles' hats, corks, carpets, dynamos, stuffed dates. I saw
it made into dirt-proof collars and shirt bosoms, salad dressing,
blackboards, corsets and the like. Again I fairly reveled in lists of
things and the places they came from and the places to which they were
going. I saw chewing-gum start for Rio and Quaker Oats for Shanghai,
patent medicine for Nabat, curled hair for Yokohama, "movy" theater
seats for Sydney, tomato soup for Cape Town and corsets for Rangoon.

"From Everywhere to Anywhere" was the title of my article. It took only
a week to write, and was ready when the Dillons came home.

CHAPTER XIV

They landed toward the end of July and I went to the dock to meet them.

Elated over my finished story, which I had in my pocket, and made
absurdly happy by the sight of Eleanore smiling down at me over the
rail, I was surprised at the greeting she gave me.

"Why, you poor boy. How terribly hard you've been working," she said.
And she looked at me as though I were sick and worn to the bone. The end
of it was that I accepted delightedly an invitation to spend a week up
at their cottage on the Sound.

Those were seven vivid glowing days. I could not relax, I was too
intensely happy, I had too much to tell her, not only about my work but
about a host of other things that without rhyme or reason popped into my
mind and had to be said. The range of our talk was tremendous, and the
wider we ranged the closer we drew. For she too was telling things, and
her things were as unexpected as mine and infinitely more absorbing. Her
manner towar