"We shall meet again in London or in Paris," said one to another, and cards and addresses were exchanged. Then after a brief delay at the Custom House they separated, each to his own particular destination; and, as a general thing, none of them ever saw any of the others again. It is often thus with those who have been fellow voyagers at sea; and it is always a surprise and perplexity to inexperienced travellers that it can be so, and that those who have been so much to each other for ten days can melt away into space and disappear as though the brief intimacy had never existed. "Four-wheeler or hansom, ma'am?" said a porter to Mrs. Ashe. "Which, Katy?" "Oh, let us have a hansom! I never saw one, and they look so nice in 'Punch.'" So a hansom cab was called, the two ladies got in, Amy cuddled down between them, the folding-doors were shut over their knees like a lap-robe, and away they drove up the solidly paved streets to the hotel where they were to pass the night. It was too late to see or do anything but enjoy the sense of being on firm land once more. "How lovely it will be to sleep in a bed that doesn't tip or roll from side to side!" said Mrs. Ashe. "Yes, and that is wide enough and long enough and soft enough to be comfortable!" replied Katy. "I feel as if I could sleep for a fortnight to make up for the bad nights at sea." Everything seemed delightful to her,--the space for undressing, the great tub of fresh water which stood beside the English-looking washstand with its ample basin and ewer, the chintz-curtained bed, the coolness, the silence,--and she closed her eyes with the pleasant thought in her mind, "It is really England and we are really here!" CHAPTER V. STORYBOOK ENGLAND. "Oh, is it raining?" was Katy's first question next morning, when the maid came to call her. The pretty room, with its gayly flowered chintz, and china, and its brass bedstead, did not look half so bright as when lit with gas the night before; and a dim gray light struggled in at the window, which in America would certainly have meant bad weather coming or already come. "Oh no, h'indeed, ma'am, it's a very fine day,--not bright, ma'am, but very dry," was the answer. Katy couldn't imagine what the maid meant, when she peeped between the curtains and saw a thick dull mist lying over everything, and the pavements opposite her window shining with wet. Afterwards, when she understood better the peculiarities of the English climate, she too learned to call days not absolutely rainy "fine," and to be grateful for them; but on that first morning her sensations were of bewildered surprise, almost vexation. Mrs. Ashe and Amy were waiting in the coffee-room when she went in search of them. "What shall we have for breakfast," asked Mrs. Ashe,--"our first meal in England? Katy, you order it."