Under the Big Dipper

clinking of chains and she was off—off on her wonderful journey across the majestic river to the hazy, mysterious shore of Jersey—her first travels into America. She gazed about her at the people sitting on the low seats and standing in the doorways; they seemed to her to be different from those she had met in New York. The men were so important, the women so self-conscious and the children so droll.

Through the open windows shone the reflection from the waters of the river, the waves of which sparkled in the sunlight. Busy little tugs saucily stretched their prows; cumbersome ferry-boats glided past as mountainous shadows. The fresh air and the wide expanse gave her a sense of assurance. She decided to risk the outside platform.

As she stood up to go out a sudden recollection made her start. Where was her suit-case? For a moment she felt as if her heart was sinking; but the next moment

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