"Meet my sister Marjorie, see that she gets through the customs without landing in jail, and take her home in a taxi. Think you're equal to it, eh?" says he. "I could make a stab," says I. "I'll risk that much," says he. And before there's any chance for a revise I've marched by Piddie with my tongue out and am pikin' towards the North River with a pier pass in one pocket and expense money in another, specially commissioned to meet the very steamer that's bringin' in Miss Vee and her Count. All of which shows how curious things will coincide if you use your bean a little to help 'em along. Well, you know how it is waitin' in a push of people for a steamer. Everybody's excited and anxious and keyed up, ready to jump at every whistle, and stretchin' their necks for a peek down the river. It's as catchin' as the baseball fever when you're in a mob watchin' the scores posted. I finds myself actin' just as eager as any, and me only doin' messenger work. Finally the boat shows up; but instead of sailin' in graceful and prompt, she shuts off steam and lays to out in the middle of the river, about as lifeless as a storage warehouse afloat, while a dozen or so dinky tugs begin pushin' and pullin' to get her somewhere near the pier. Then folks start makin' wild guesses as to which is their friends. "There's Uncle Fred, Willie!" squeals a fat woman next to me, proddin' me vigorous in the ribs. "Not mine, ma'am," says I. "Oh, excuse me," says she. "Why, there's Willie, over there. Hey, Willie! See Uncle Fred?" It was that way all around me, and me not even doin' the wave act. After awhile though, I spots Marjorie. There was no doubt about it being her; for she looms up among that crowd along the rail like a prize Florida orange in a basket of lemons. It's plain Marjorie ain't lost any weight by her trip abroad, and she looks more like a corn fed Juliet than ever. As she wa'n't expectin' me, but was huntin' for Brother Robert, I didn't see the sense in shoutin'. I went on lookin' over the rest of the passengers, sort of bracin' myself for any discovery I might make. Would they show up arm in arm, or with their heads close together, or how? I'd looked the boat over from bow to stern and back again about three times before I happens to take another glance at Marjorie. And there, almost hid by one side of her, was a young lady in a white sailor hat with some straw colored hair showin' under the wide brim, and a pair of gray eyes that I couldn't mistake anywhere. It was Vee, all right; just as slim and graceful and classy as ever, with the same independent tilt to her chin, and the same Mayflower pink showin' in her cheeks.