“Almost as pretty as our Casco Bay,” said Dotty. “‘Winona;’ is that the boat we are going in?  But, Horace, you must cross to the other side, where it says ‘Gentlemen’s Cabin.’”

“How kind you are to take care of me!  Wish you’d take as good care of yourself, Cousin Dimple.”

And Horace walked straight into the “Ladies’ Cabin.”  There were more men in it, though, than women; so he had the best side of the argument.

“Horace,” said Aunt Madge, as they seated themselves, “where is your money?”

“Money?  O, in the breast pocket of my coat.”

“But don’t you remember, my boy, I advised you to leave it at home?  See that placard, right before your eyes.”

“‘Beware of Pickpockets!’” read Horace.  “Well, auntie, I intend to beware.”

Mrs. Allen did not like his lord-of-creation tone.  It was not exactly disrespectful.  He adored his aunt, and did not mean to snub her.  At the same time he had paid no attention to her advice, and his cool, self-possessed way of setting it one side was very irritating.  If Mrs. Allen had not been the sweetest of women, she would have enjoyed boxing his ears.

“I wish he was two years younger, and then he would have to obey me,” thought she; “but I don’t like to lay my commands on a boy of fourteen.”

The truth was, Horace had a large swelling on the top of his head, known by the name of self-esteem; and it had got bruised a little the day before, when he was obliged to stand one side, and let his aunt manage about finding Flyaway.

“I suppose she thinks I’m a ninny, just because I don’t understand this bothersome city; but I reckon I know a thing or two, if I don’t live in New York!”

And the foolish boy really took some satisfaction in slapping his breast pockets, and remarking to his friends,—­

“’Twould take a smart chap to get his hand in there without my knowing it.  O, Prudy, where’s your wallet?  And yours, Dotty?  I can carry them as well as not.  There’s no knowing what kind of a muss you may be getting into before night.”

Prudy gave up hers without a word, but Dotty demurred.

“I guess I’ve got eyes both sides my head, just the same as Horace has, if I am a girl.”

She and Cousin Horace usually agreed, but this visit had begun wrong.

“Very well, Dot; if you think ’twould be any consolation to you to have somebody come along with a pair of scissors, and snip off your pocket, I don’t know as it’s any of my business.”

“See if they do,” replied Dotty, clutching her pocket in her right hand.

They had been speaking in loud tones, and perhaps had been overheard; for two men, on the same seat, began to talk of the unusual number of robberies that had happened within a few days and to wonder “what we were coming to next.”  In consequence of this, Dotty pinned up her pocket.  When they reached Brooklyn, she gave her left hand to Horace, in stepping off the boat, and walked up Fulton Street, with her right hand firmly grasping the skirt of her dress.