Jefferson had the misfortune to be allotted an inspector who was half seas over with liquor and the man was so insolent and threatening in manner that it was only by great self-restraint that Jefferson controlled himself.  He had no wish to create a scandal on the dock, nor to furnish good “copy” for the keen-eyed, long-eared newspaper reporters who would be only too glad of such an opportunity for a “scare head”.  But when the fellow compelled him to open every trunk and valise and then put his grimy hands to the bottom and by a quick upward movement jerked the entire contents out on the dock, he interfered: 

“You are exceeding your authority,” he exclaimed hotly.  “How dare you treat my things in this manner?”

The drunken uniformed brute raised his bloodshot, bleary eyes and took Jefferson in from tip to toe.  He clenched his fist as if about to resort to violence, but he was not so intoxicated as to be quite blind to the fact that this passenger had massive square shoulders, a determined jaw and probably a heavy arm.  So contenting himself with a sneer, he said: 

“This ain’t no country for blooming English docks.  You’re not in England now you know.  This is a free country.  See?”

“I see this,” replied Jefferson, furious, “that you are a drunken ruffian and a disgrace to the uniform you wear.  I shall report your conduct immediately,” with which he proceeded to the Customs desk to lodge a complaint.

He might have spared himself the trouble.  The silver-haired, distinguished looking old officer in charge knew that Jefferson’s complaint was well founded, he knew that this particular inspector was a drunkard and a discredit to the government which employed him, but at the same time he also knew that political influence had been behind his appointment and that it was unsafe to do more than mildly reprimand him.  When, therefore, he accompanied Jefferson to the spot where the contents of the trunks lay scattered in confusion all over the dock, he merely expostulated with the officer, who made some insolent reply.  Seeing that it was useless to lose further time, Jefferson repacked his trunks as best he could and got them on a cab.  Then he hurried over to Shirley’s party and found them already about to leave the pier.

“Come and see us, Jeff,” whispered Shirley as their cab drove through the gates.

“Where,” he asked, “Madison Avenue?”

She hesitated for a moment and then replied quickly: 

“No, we are stopping down on Long Island for the Summer—­at a cute little place called Massapequa.  Run down and see us.”

He raised his hat and the cab drove on.

There was greater activity in the Rossmore cottage at Massapequa than there had been any day since the judge and his wife went to live there.  Since daybreak Eudoxia had been scouring and polishing in honour of the expected arrival and a hundred times Mrs. Rossmore had climbed the stairs to see that everything was as it should be in the room which had been prepared for Shirley.  It was not, however, without a passage at arms that Eudoxia consented to consider the idea of an addition to the family.  Mrs. Rossmore had said to her the day before: