“I see you’re kept waiting like me. It’s very tiresome,” Count Otto said. The young American answered without looking behind him. “As soon as we’re started we’ll go all right. My sister has written to a gentleman to come down.” “I’ve looked for Miss Day to bid her good-bye,” Vogelstein went on; “but I don’t see her.” “I guess she has gone to meet that gentleman; he’s a great friend of hers.” “I guess he’s her lover!” the little girl broke out. “She was always writing to him in Europe.” Her brother puffed his cigar in silence a moment. “That was only for this. I’ll tell on you, sis,” he presently added. But the younger Miss Day gave no heed to his menace; she addressed herself only, though with all freedom, to Vogelstein. “This is New York; I like it better than Utica.” He had no time to reply, for his servant had arrived with one of the dispensers of fortune; but as he turned away he wondered, in the light of the child’s preference, about the towns of the interior. He was naturally exempt from the common doom. The officer who took him in hand, and who had a large straw hat and a diamond breastpin, was quite a man of the world, and in reply to the Count’s formal declarations only said, “Well, I guess it’s all right; I guess I’ll just pass you,” distributing chalk-marks as if they had been so many love-pats. The servant had done some superfluous unlocking and unbuckling, and while he closed the pieces the officer stood there wiping his forehead and conversing with Vogelstein. “First visit to our country, sir?—quite alone—no ladies? Of course the ladies are what we’re most after.” It was in this manner he expressed himself, while the young diplomatist wondered what he was waiting for and whether he ought to slip something into his palm. But this representative of order left our friend only a moment in suspense; he presently turned away with the remark quite paternally uttered, that he hoped the Count would make quite a stay; upon which the young man saw how wrong he should have been to offer a tip. It was simply the American manner, which had a finish of its own after all. Vogelstein’s servant had secured a porter with a truck, and he was about to leave the place when he saw Pandora Day dart out of the crowd and address herself with much eagerness to the functionary who had just liberated him. She had an open letter in her hand which she gave him to read and over which he cast his eyes, thoughtfully stroking his beard. Then she led him away to where her parents sat on their luggage. Count Otto sent off his servant with the porter and followed Pandora, to whom he really wished to address a word of farewell. The last thing they had said to each other on the ship was that they should meet again on shore. It seemed improbable however that the meeting would occur anywhere but just here on the dock; inasmuch as Pandora was decidedly not in society, where Vogelstein would