“What troubles you, Winifred?”

“Robert, the children were born here, and here I’ve watched over them in sickness and health so many days and nights.”

“Well, my dear, the prospects are that in our new home you will not have to watch over them in sickness very much.  Better still, you will not have to be so constantly on your guard against contagions that harm the soul as well as the body.  I was told that there are rattle-snakes on Schunemunk, but greater dangers for Winnie and Merton lurk in this street—­yes, in this very house;” and I exulted over the thought that we were about to bid Melissa Daggett a final good-by.

“Oh, I know.  I’m glad; but then—­”

“But then a woman’s heart takes root in any place where she has loved and suffered.  That tendency makes it all the more certain that you’ll love your new home.”

“Yes; we may as well face the truth, Robert.  We shall suffer in the new home as surely as in the old.  There may be stronger sunshine, but that means deeper shadow.”

CHAPTER X

SCENES ON THE WHARF

The last night in the city flat was in truth like camping out, the fatigues of the day brought us sound sleep, and we looked and felt like emigrants.  But in the morning we rose with the dawn, from our shakedowns on the floor, to begin eagerly and hopefully our final preparations for departure.  In response to my letters John Jones had promised to meet us at the Maizeville Landing with his strong covered rockaway, and to have a fire in the old farmhouse.  Load after load was despatched to the boat, for I preferred to deal with one trusty truckman.  When all had been taken away, we said good-by to our neighbors and took the horse-car to the boat, making our quiet exit in the least costly way.  I knew the boat would be warm and comfortable, and proposed that we should eat our lunch there.

The prospect, however, of seeing the wharves, the boats, and the river destroyed even the children’s appetites.  We soon reached the crowded dock.  The great steamer appeared to be a part of it, lying along its length with several gangways, over which boxes, barrels, and packages were being hustled on board with perpetual din.  The younger children were a little awed at first by the noise and apparent confusion.  Mousie kept close to my side, and even Bobsey clung to his mother’s hand.  The extended upper cabin had state-rooms opening along its sides, and was as comfortable as a floating parlor with its arm and rocking chairs.  Here, not far from the great heater, I established our headquarters.  I made the children locate the spot carefully, and said:  “From this point we’ll make excursions.  In the first place, Merton, you come with me and see that all our household effects are together and in good order.  You must learn to travel and look after things like a man.”

We spent a little time in arranging our goods so that they would be safer and more compact.  Then we went to the captain and laughingly told him we were emigrants to Maizeville, and hoped before long to send a good deal of produce by his boat.  We therefore wished him to “lump” us, goods, children, and all, and deliver us safely at the Maizeville wharf for as small a sum as possible.