bewildered dignity of Herr Kreutzer, being dazzled by the former, as
was everyone in sight, and being quite as anxious to make friends
among prospective German citizens as among those of his own country (a
German vote is likely to be useful, now and then, on Mulberry Street)
he offered her a cup, and, as she took it automatically, would have
poured some wine into it with a gallant smile. Kreutzer took the cup
out of her hand and passed it back to him.

"Bitte," he said, calmly. "I thank you. My daughter does not care for
wine."

Moresco, angered, gave him a black scowl and took the cup.

"By Jove," said the youth who had, upon the dock, picked up Herr
Kreutzer's bag. He was standing on the promenade-deck, above, beside
his very, very stately mother, who, over-dressed and full of scorn for
the whole world, was complaining because her doctor's orders had
suggested traveling upon so slow and old a ship. "There's that
stunning little German girl down there. Isn't she a picture? Gee! Her
old man wouldn't let her drink with that black dago--not that she
wanted to. But bully for Professor Pretzel!" "How very vulgar!" said
his mother, looking down at the small, animated scene before her with
disfavor. "Mere immigrants."

"I s'pose _our_ folks were, sometime," John Vanderlyn replied. "But
isn't she a corker, mother?"

"John, your language is too shocking! Please see about our
deck-chairs," Mrs. Vanderlyn replied.