Everybody was carrying something. There were two
carriages, for they were all going to the station with us.
"For all the world like a funeral, with loads of flowers and everybody
crying," said my brother, cheerfully.
I never shall forget that drive to the station; nor the last few
moments, when Bee and I stood on the car-steps and talked to those who
were on the platform of the station. Can anybody else remember how she
felt at going to Europe for the first time and leaving everybody she
loved at home? Bee grieved because there were no flowers at the train
after all. But the next morning they appeared, a tremendous box,
arranged as a surprise.
Telegrams came popping in at all the big stations along the way,
enlivening our gloom, and at the steamer there were such loads of
things that we might almost have set up as a florist, or fruiterer, or
bookseller. Such a lapful of steamer letters and telegrams! I read a
few each morning, and some of them I read every morning!
I don't like ocean travel. They sent grapefruit and confections to my
state-room, which I tossed out of the port-hole.
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