a mistake in
booking their order, and had only two small rooms left for them, so
Lesbia was obliged to take both Julie and Bunty into her bed. It was a
tight fit, and they were restless little people. Poor Lesbia, who had
hardly closed her eyes the night before, found it impossible to sleep.
If she managed to doze off Bunty would kick or Julie would fling out her
arms. The dark hours passed like a nightmare. She welcomed the
chambermaid's entrance with the hot water. Feeling utterly unrested, and
nervy and disconsolate, she got up and dressed the children, who were in
high spirits. Their noise made her head throb. Was every day of the
journey going to be like this? There was a slight fog and drizzling rain
outside. Not at all the sort of weather to inspire courage and
hopefulness.

Lesbia made some pretence of eating breakfast in the Coffee Room, but
she felt as if food would choke her. Minnie, with an anxious eye on the
clock, though there was plenty of time to spare, pushed away her own
breakfast almost untasted.

Emigration has its sad side. Even with husband and children it is a
wrench to leave old England.

Then the hall porter announced their taxi, and once more they drove
through Liverpool streets and along miles of docks to the particular
dock where lay the _Roumania_. They were on board at last, with bag and
baggage and the children all intact. Their big boxes were being lowered
into the hold, and their cabin trunks were being marked with chalk by an
official. A steward took them to their cabins, Nos. 51 and 59. Lesbia's
experience in voyaging was confined to a 10-ton yacht. She had never
been on a sea-going vessel before. She gazed round in dismay. Why, this
tiny room with its four berths was actually smaller than the bathroom at
home! There was scarcely space to turn round in it. It would be cramped
enough if she had it all to herself, but she was to share it with the
three children. How she would ever undress and dress them, wash them and
comb their hair, much less manage her own toilet in such tiny quarters,
she could not imagine. The porthole was closed, and the air felt stuffy.
There is always an indescribably close oily smell about the atmosphere
of any cabins, except deck staterooms, and those are generally booked by
millionaires. Stewards were carrying in various bags and packages and
tossing them down on the berths. Already the little place was so full
she did not see where she, Julie, Steve, and B