"We're going on a boat, aren't we?" she asked when they had passed through the gate.
"Yes, and we can make this boat if we hurry." Mr. Evringham suddenly felt a little hand slide into his. Jewel was skipping along beside him to keep up with his long strides, and he glanced down at the bobbing flaxen head with its large ribbon bows, while the impulse to withdraw his hand was thwarted by the closer clinging of the small fingers.
"Father told me about the ferry," said Jewel with satisfaction, "and you'll show me the statue of Liberty won't you, grandpa? Isn't it a splendid boat? Oh, can we go out close to the water?"
Mr. Evringham sighed heavily. He did not wish to go out close to the water. He wished to sit down in comfort in the cabin and read the paper which he had just taken from a newsboy. It seemed to him a very long time since he had done anything he wished to; but a little hand was pulling eagerly at his, and mechanically he followed out to where the brisk spring wind ruffled the river and assaulted his hat. He jerked his hand from Jewel's to hold it in place.
"Isn't this beautiful!" cried the child joyfully, as the boat steamed on. "Can you do this every day, grandpa?"
Something in the tone caused the little girl to look up from her view of the wide water spaces to the grim face above.
"Is there something that makes you sorry, grandpa?" she asked softly.
His eyes were fixed on a ferry boat, black with its human freight, about to pass them on its way to the city.
"I was wishing I were on that boat. That's all."
The little girl lifted her shoulders. "I don't believe there's room," she said, looking smilingly for a response from her companion. "I don't believe even Anna Belle could squeeze on. Do you think so?"
Mr. Evringham, holding his hat with one hand, was endeavoring to fetter the lively corners of his newspaper in such shape that he could at least get a glimpse of headlines.
"Oh, I see a statue. Is that it, grandpa? Is that it?"
"What?" vaguely. "Oh yes. The statue of Liberty. Yes, that's it. As if there was any liberty for anybody!" muttered Mr. Evringham into his mustache.
"Just think," gayly, "father and mother are sailing away just the way we are."
"H'm," returned Mr. Evringham, trying to read the report of the stock market, and becoming more impatient each instant with the sportive breeze.