From the deck at the front and back rose two large cabins whose sides were all of brilliant glass set between narrow panels on which were paintings, which Rebecca could not clearly distinguish from where she was sitting. At the waist, between and below the cabins, ten oars protruded from each side of the barge, flashing rhythmically as they swept forward together, seeming to sprinkle drops of sunlight into the river. The splendor of this apparition, contrasting as it did with the small and somewhat dingy craft otherwise visible above the bridge, gave a new direction to Rebecca's thoughts and forced from her an almost involuntary exclamation. "For the lands sakes!" she murmured. "Whoever in the world carries on in sech style's that!" The waterman looked over his shoulder, and no sooner caught sight of the glittering barge than, with a powerful push of his oars, he backed water and brought his little boat to a stand. "The Queen!" he exclaimed. Rebecca glanced at the boatman with slightly raised brows. "Thought you was deef an' dumb," she said. Then, turning once more to the still approaching barge, she continued: "An' so thet's Queen Victoria's ship, is it?" "Victoria!" growled the waterman. "Ye seem as odd in speech as in dress, mistress. Who gave ye license to miscall our glorious sovereign?" Rebecca's brows were knit in a thoughtful frown and she scarce knew what her companion said. The approach of the Queen suggested a new plan of action. She had heard of queens as all-powerful rulers, women whose commands would be obeyed at once and without question, in small and personal things as in matters of greater moment. Of Queen Victoria, too, some accounts had reached her, and all had been in confirmation of that ruler's justice and goodness of heart. Rebecca's new plan was therefore to appeal at once to this benign sovereign for aid, entreat her to command the Burtons to release Phoebe and to order Copernicus Droop to carry both sisters back to their New England home. This course recommended itself strongly to the strictly honest Rebecca, because it eliminated at once all necessity for "humoring" Phoebe's madness, with its implied subterfuges and equivocations. The moment was propitious for making an attempt which could at least do no harm, she thought. She determined to carry out the plan which had occurred to her. Standing up in the boat: "What's the Queen's last name?" she asked. "Be seated, woman!" growled the waterman, who was growing uneasy at sight of the increasing eccentricity of his fare. "The Queen's name is Elizabeth, as well ye know," he concluded, more gently. He hoped to soothe the woman's frenzy by concessions. "Now, mister," said Rebecca, severely, "don't you be sassy to me, fer I won't stand it. Of course, I don't want her first name--she ain't hired help. What's the Queen's family name--quick!"