Her attention was attracted by the sudden appearance of guards at the gang-plank, no more visitors would be allowed on board.  Susan smiled at the helpless disgust of some late-comers, who must send their candy and books up by the steward.  Twenty-five minutes of twelve, said the ferry clock.

“Are you going as far as Japan, my dear?” asked a gentle little lady at Susan’s shoulder.

“Yes, we’re going even further!” said friendly Susan.

“I’m going all alone,” said the little lady, “and old as I am, I so dread it!  I tell Captain Wolseley—–­”

“I’m making my first trip, too,” said Susan, “so we’ll stand by each other!”

A touch on her arm made her turn suddenly about; her heart thundering.  But it was only Lydia Lord.

“Isn’t this thrilling, Sue?” asked Lydia, excited and nervous.  “What wouldn’t you give to be going?  Did you go down and see the cabins; aren’t they dear?  Have you found the Saunders party?”

“Are the Saunders here?” asked Susan.

“Miss Ella was, I know.  But she’s probably gone now.  I didn’t see the younger sister.  I must get back to the Jeromes,” said Lydia; “they began to take pictures, and I’d thought I run away for a little peep at everything, all to myself!  They say that we shore people will have to leave the ship at quarter of twelve.”

She fluttered away, and a second later Susan found her hand covered by the big glove of Stephen Bocqueraz.

“Here you are, Susan,” he said, with business-like satisfaction.  “I was kept by Ella and some others, but they’ve gone now.  Everything seems to be quite all right.”

Susan turned a rather white and strained face toward him, but even now his bracing bigness and coolness were acting upon her as a tonic.

“We’re at the Captain’s table,” he told her, “which you’ll appreciate if you’re not ill.  If you are ill, you’ve got a splendid stewardess,—­Mrs. O’Connor.  She happens to be an old acquaintance of mine; she used to be on a Cunarder, and she’s very much interested in my niece, and will look out for you very well.”  He looked down upon the crowded piers.  “Wonderful sight, isn’t it?” he asked.  Susan leaned beside him at the rail, her color was coming back, but she saw nothing and heard nothing of what went on about her.

“What’s he doing that for?” she asked suddenly.  For a blue-clad coolie was working his way through the crowded docks, banging violently on a gong.  The sound disturbed Susan’s overstrained nerves.

“I don’t know,” said Stephen.  “Lunch perhaps.  Would you like to have a look downstairs before we go to lunch?”

“That’s a warning for visitors to go ashore,” volunteered a bright-faced girl near them, who was leaning on the rail, staring down at the pier.  “But they’ll give a second warning,” she added, “for we’re going to be a few minutes late getting away.  Aren’t you glad you don’t have to go?” she asked Susan gaily.