city, which at one
time to the impatient seemed at the terminus of the never, began,
all of a sudden, one day to make its nearingness felt; and from that
period every other interest paled before the interest in the immanence
of arrival into port, and the whole boat was seized with a panic of
preparation, the little convent girl with the others. Although so
immaculate was she in person and effects that she might have been
struck with a landing, as some good people might be struck with death,
at any moment without fear of results, her trunk was packed and
repacked, her satchel arranged and rearranged, and, the last day, her
hair was brushed and plaited and smoothed over and over again until
the very last glimmer of a curl disappeared. Her dress was whisked,
as if for microscopic inspection; her face was washed; and her
finger-nails were scrubbed with the hard convent nail-brush, until
the disciplined little tips ached with a pristine soreness. And still
there were hours to wait, and still the boat added up delays. But she
arrived at last, after all, with not more than the usual and expected
difference between the actual and the advertised time of arrival.

There was extra blowing and extra ringing, shouting, commanding,
rushing up the gangway and rushing down the gangway. The clerks,
sitting behind tables on the first deck, were plied, in the twinkling
of an eye, with estimates, receipts, charges, countercharges, claims,
reclaims, demands, questions, accusations, threats, all at topmost
voices. None but steamboat clerks could have stood it. And there were
throngs composed of individuals every one of whom wanted to see the
captain first and at once: and those who could not get to him shouted
over the heads of the others; and as usual he lost his temper and
politeness, and began to do what he termed "hustle."

"Captain! Captain!" a voice called him to where a hand plucked his
sleeve, and a letter was thrust toward him. "The cross, and the name
of the convent." He recognized the envelop of the mother superior. He
read the duplicate of the letter given by the sisters. He looked at
the woman--the mother--casually, then again and again.

The little convent girl saw him coming, leading some one toward her.
She rose. The captain took her hand first, before the other greeting,
"Good-by, my dear," he said. He tried to add something else, but
seemed undetermined what. "Be a good little girl--" It was evidently
all he could think