ing mass, followed close by a
herd of emigrants crowding and stumbling like sheep, the men with
pillow-case bundles over their backs, the women with babies muffled in
shawls.

When the last passenger was aboard, the closely-knit young man with the
steel gray eyes leaned forward and said in a low voice to the First
Officer:

"He's not in this bunch."

"Sure?"

"Yes--dead sure."

"Where will you look for him now, Hobson?" continued the officer.

"Paris, maybe. I told the Chief we wouldn't get anywhere on this lead.
Well, so long"--and the closely-knit young man swung himself down the
gangplank and disappeared into the cabin of the tender.

The scenes on the gangplank were now repeated on the steamer. The old
travellers, whose hand luggage had been properly numbered, gave
themselves no concern--the stewards would look after their belongings.
The new travellers--the Sister of Charity among them--wandered about
asking questions that for the moment no one had time to answer. She,
poor soul, had spent her life in restful places, and the in-rush of
passengers and their proper bestowal seemed to have completely dazed
her.

"Can I help you?" asked the First Officer--everybody is ready to help a
Sister, no matter what his rank or how pressing his duties.

"Yes, please--I want to know where my room is. It is Number 49, so my
ticket says."

Here the Purser came up--he, too, would help a Sister.

"Sister Teresa, is it not--from the Convent of the Sacred Heart? Yes,
we knew you would get on at Cherbourg. You are on the lower deck in the
same stateroom with Miss Jennings. Steward--take the Sister to--"

"With whom?" she cried, with a look of blank amazement "But I thought I
was alone! They told me so at the office. Oh, I cannot share my room
with anybody. Please let--"

"Yes, but we had to double up. We would willingly give you a room
alone, but there isn't an empty berth on board." He was telling the
truth and showed it in his voice.

"But I have the money to pay for a whole room. I would have paid for it
at the office in Paris, but they told me it was not necessary."

"I know, Sister, and I'm very sorry, but it can't be helped now.
Steward, take Sister Teresa to Number 49." This last came as an order,
and ended the discussion.

When the Steward pushed open the door Miss Jennings was sitting on the
sofa berth reading, a long gray cloak about her shoulders. She had a
quiet, calm face and steady eyes framed in gold