“We liked this little house, Dearest, didn’t we?” he said.  “We always will like it, won’t we?”

“Yes—­yes,” she answered, in a low, sweet voice.  “Yes, darling.”

And then they went into the carriage and Cedric sat very close to her, and as she looked back out of the window, he looked at her and stroked her hand and held it close.

And then, it seemed almost directly, they were on the steamer in the midst of the wildest bustle and confusion; carriages were driving down and leaving passengers; passengers were getting into a state of excitement about baggage which had not arrived and threatened to be too late; big trunks and cases were being bumped down and dragged about; sailors were uncoiling ropes and hurrying to and fro; officers were giving orders; ladies and gentlemen and children and nurses were coming on board,—­some were laughing and looked gay, some were silent and sad, here and there two or three were crying and touching their eyes with their handkerchiefs.  Cedric found something to interest him on every side; he looked at the piles of rope, at the furled sails, at the tall, tall masts which seemed almost to touch the hot blue sky; he began to make plans for conversing with the sailors and gaining some information on the subject of pirates.

It was just at the very last, when he was standing leaning on the railing of the upper deck and watching the final preparations, enjoying the excitement and the shouts of the sailors and wharfmen, that his attention was called to a slight bustle in one of the groups not far from him.  Some one was hurriedly forcing his way through this group and coming toward him.  It was a boy, with something red in his hand.  It was Dick.  He came up to Cedric quite breathless.

“I’ve run all the way,” he said.  “I’ve come down to see ye off.  Trade’s been prime!  I bought this for ye out o’ what I made yesterday.  Ye kin wear it when ye get among the swells.  I lost the paper when I was tryin’ to get through them fellers downstairs.  They didn’t want to let me up.  It’s a hankercher.”

He poured it all forth as if in one sentence.  A bell rang, and he made a leap away before Cedric had time to speak.

“Good-bye!” he panted.  “Wear it when ye get among the swells.”  And he darted off and was gone.

A few seconds later they saw him struggle through the crowd on the lower deck, and rush on shore just before the gang-plank was drawn in.  He stood on the wharf and waved his cap.

Cedric held the handkerchief in his hand.  It was of bright red silk ornamented with purple horseshoes and horses’ heads.

There was a great straining and creaking and confusion.  The people on the wharf began to shout to their friends, and the people on the steamer shouted back: 

“Good-bye!  Good-bye!  Good-bye, old fellow!” Every one seemed to be saying, “Don’t forget us.  Write when you get to Liverpool.  Good-bye!  Good-bye!”