the responsibilities of another trip were over, and at his side, sharing the honours, was the grizzled pilot who had brought the ship safely through the dangers of Gedney’s Channel, his shabby pea jacket, old slouch hat, top boots and unkempt beard standing out in sharp contrast with the immaculate white duck trousers, the white and gold caps and smart full dress uniforms of the ship’s officers.  The rails on the upper decks were seen to be lined with passengers, all dressed in their shore going clothes, some waving handkerchiefs at friends they already recognized, all impatiently awaiting the shipping of the gangplank.

Stott had come early.  They had received word at Massapequa the day before that the steamer had been sighted off Fire Island and that she would be at her pier the next morning at 10 o’clock.  Stott arrived at 9.30 and so found no difficulty in securing a front position among the small army of people, who, like himself, had come down to meet friends.

As the huge vessel swung round and drew closer, Stott easily picked out Shirley.  She was scanning eagerly through a binocular the rows of upturned faces on the dock, and he noted that a look of disappointment crossed her face at not finding the object of her search.  She turned and said something to a lady in black and to a man who stood at her side.  Who they might be Stott had no idea.  Fellow passengers, no doubt.  One becomes so intimate on shipboard; it seems a friendship that must surely last a lifetime, whereas the custom officers have not finished rummaging through your trunks when these easily-made steamer friends are already forgotten.  Presently Shirley took another look and her glass soon lighted on him.  Instantly she recognized her father’s old friend.  She waved a handkerchief and Stott raised his hat.  Then she turned quickly and spoke again to her friends, whereupon they all moved in the direction of the gangplank, which was already being lowered.

Shirley was one of the first to come ashore.  Stott was waiting for her at the foot of the gangplank and she threw her arms round his neck and kissed him.  He had known her ever since she was a little tot in arms, and bystanders who noticed them meet had no doubt that they were father and daughter.  Shirley was deeply moved; a great lump in her throat seemed to choke her utterance.  So far she had been able to bear up, but now that home was so near her heart failed her.  She had hoped to find her father on the dock.  Why had he not come?  Were things so bad then?  She questioned Judge Stott anxiously, fearfully.

He reassured her.  Both her mother and father were well.  It was too long a trip for them to make, so he had volunteered.

“Too long a trip,” echoed Shirley puzzled.  “This is not far from our house.  Madison Avenue is no distance.  That could not have kept father away.”

“You don’t live on Madison Avenue any longer.  The house and its contents have been sold,” replied Stott gravely, and in a few words he outlined the situation as it was.