But the minute their activities were over and they had time to think, silence fell upon them again. They were both nervous. They both composed their faces to indifference to hide that they were nervous, examining the streets they passed through with a calm and _blasé_ stare worthy of a lorgnette. It was the tact part of the coming encounter that was chiefly unnerving Anna-Rose, and Anna-Felicitas was dejected by her conviction that nobody who was a friend of Uncle Arthur's could possibly be agreeable. "By their friends ye shall know them," thought Anna-Felicitas, staring out of the window at the Boston buildings. Also the persistence of the Sacks in not being on piers and railway stations was discouraging. There was no eagerness about this persistence; there wasn't even friendliness. Perhaps they didn't like her and Anna-Rose being German. This was always the twins' first thought when anybody wasn't particularly cordial. Their experiences in England had made them a little jumpy. They were conscious of this weak spot, and like a hurt finger it seemed always to be getting in the way and being knocked. Anna-Felicitas once more pondered on the inscrutable behaviour of Providence which had led their mother, so safely and admirably English, to leave that blessed shelter and go and marry somebody who wasn't. Of course there was this to be said for it, that she wasn't their mother then. If she had been, Anna-Felicitas felt sure she wouldn't have. Then, perceiving that her thoughts were getting difficult to follow she gave them up, and slid her hand through Anna-Rose's arm and gave it a squeeze. "Now for the New World, Christopher," she said, pretending to be very eager and brave and like the real Columbus, as the taxi stopped. CHAPTER XIV The taxi had stopped in front of a handsome apartment house, and almost before it was quiet a boy in buttons darted out across the intervening wide pavement and thrust his face through the window. "Who do you want?" he said, or rather jerked out. He then saw the contents of the taxi, and his mouth fell open; for it seemed to him that grips and passengers were piled up inside it in a seething mass. "We want Mr. and Mrs. Clouston Sack," said Anna-Rose in her most grown-up voice. "They're expecting us." "They ain't," said the boy promptly. "They ain't?" repeated Anna-Rose, echoing his language in her surprise. "How do you know?" asked Anna-Felicitas. "That they ain't? Because they ain't," said the boy. "I bet you my Sunday shirt they ain't." The twins stared at him. They were not accustomed in their conversations with the lower classes to be talked to about shirts. The boy seemed extraordinarily vital. His speech was so quick that it flew out with the urgency and haste of squibs going off. "Please open the door," said Anna-Rose recovering herself. "We'll go up and see for ourselves." "You won't see," said the boy. "Kindly open the door," repeated Anna-Rose.