The mother of the nice boy said to Mrs. March, “You may not get what you ordered, but it will be good.”

“Even if you don’t know what it is!” said the young bride, and then blushed, as if she had been too bold.

Mrs. March liked the blush and the young bride for it, and she asked, “Have you ever been on one of these German boats before?  They seem very comfortable.”

“Oh, dear, no! we’ve never been on any boat before.”  She made a little petted mouth of deprecation, and added, simple-heartedly, “My husband was going out on business, and he thought he might as well take me along.”

The husband seemed to feel himself brought in by this, and said he did not see why they should not make it a pleasure-trip, too.  They put themselves in a position to be patronized by their deference, and in the pauses of his talk with the gentleman at the head of the table, March heard his wife abusing their inexperience to be unsparingly instructive about European travel.  He wondered whether she would be afraid to own that it was nearly thirty years since she had crossed the ocean; though that might seem recent to people who had never crossed at all.

They listened with respect as she boasted in what an anguish of wisdom she had decided between the Colmannia and the Norumbia.  The wife said she did not know there was such a difference in steamers, but when Mrs. March perfervidly assured her that there was all the difference in the world, she submitted and said she supposed she ought to be thankful that they, had hit upon the right one.  They had telegraphed for berths and taken what was given them; their room seemed to be very nice.

“Oh,” said Mrs. March, and her husband knew that she was saying it to reconcile them to the inevitable, “all the rooms on the Norumbia are nice.  The only difference is that if they are on the south side you have the sun.”

“I’m not sure which is the south side,” said the bride.  “We seem to have been going west ever since we started, and I feel as if we should reach home in the morning if we had a good night.  Is the ocean always so smooth as this?”

“Oh, dear, no!” said Mrs. March.  “It’s never so smooth as this,” and she began to be outrageously authoritative about the ocean weather.  She ended by declaring that the June passages were always good, and that if the ship kept a southerly course they would have no fogs and no icebergs.  She looked round, and caught her husband’s eye.  “What is it?  Have I been bragging?  Well, you understand,” she added to the bride, “I’ve only been over once, a great while ago, and I don’t really know anything about it,” and they laughed together.  “But I talked so much with people after we decided to go, that I feel as if I had been a hundred times.”