Abroad.

Edwin had secured a Passport which identified him as a male white
Person, entitled to all the Courtesies and Privileges usually extended
to an American Citizen holding a Passport.

They were on the verge of the Jumps when they boarded the Train, but
they hoped to Relax and get a lot of Sleep on the Ocean Greyhound.

A few days later they were curled up in a Cabin de Luxe about the size
of a Telephone Booth, waiting for the Ocean Greyhound to recover from
an attack of Hydrophobia.

When they tottered down the Gang-Plank, after six days on the playful
North Atlantic, their only Comfort was derived from the knowledge
that, as soon as they had rested up, they could write home and quote
the Second Officer as saying it was the roughest Passage he had ever
Known.

After spending a few days in London, trying to get warm, they moved on
to Paris, which they remembered long afterward on account of
Napoleon's Tomb and the price of Strawberries.

Selena pulled her tall-grass French on a Hackman, but there was
nothing doing. He had taken it from a different Teacher.

So they employed a Guide who knew all the Shops. If Selena happened to
admire a Trinket or some outre Confection with Lace slathered on it, a
perfumed Apache in a Frock Coat would take Edwin into a side room,
give him the sleeve across the Wind-Pipe, and bite a piece out of his
Letter of Credit.

Edwin did a little quick work with the Pencil and said they could
either hurry on or else hie back to the Home Town and begin Life all
over again.

Three weeks after saying good-bye to Griddle Cakes they were in
Naples, which they had seen pictured on so many Calendars.

Looking back across the Centuries they recalled the Clerks standing in
the Doorways and the friends of the Progressive Euchre Club. It was
sweet to remember that the world was not made up entirely of cadging
Head Waiters.

Once in a while they would venture from the Hotel to run footraces
with the yelping Lazzaroni or try to look at Vesuve without paying
seven or eight members of the Camorra for the Privilege.

After being chased back into the Hotel, they would sit down and
address Post-Cards by the Hour, telling how much they were enjoying
the stay in Napoli, home of Song and Laughter.

Their only chance of catching even on the Imperial Suite at $9 a Day
was to make the Folks back at the Whistling Post think they were
playing Guitars and dancing the Tarantella, whatever that is.

Ne