Fairer than Morning by Rosslyn Elliott Page A

in the conversation. Ann’s father had told her that steamboats were usually floating islands of social democracy, and perhaps that was true. Or perhaps Louisa was simply more tolerant than the others.
    â€œNo, we won’t stay at the O’Hara home.” Ann’s relief made her words tumble over one another until she made a conscious effort to slow down. “We will board with Dr. Robert Loftin, a friend of the O’Hara family. He is neighbor to another saddler who will assist my father in his work.”
    As she finished her sentence, Ann realized that the stevedores were still clustered outside the ladies’ cabin with their luggage and trunks. She pointed them out to Louisa. “I see that the men need to place our belongings somewhere.”
    â€œPerhaps we should decide on our rooms?” Louisa leaned around Mrs. Holmes to repeat her suggestion to the rest of the ladies, who agreed.
    They chose a stateroom for each family and directed the dockmen to deposit their burdens in the appropriate cabins. Ann found an additional coin for her stevedore to compensate him for his patience. She noticed Louisa Burbridge doing the same, though the Holmeses were chatting too loudly with each other to notice.
    Ann left Susan and Mabel bouncing on the rather hard beds of the cabin and went in search of her father. He must have conceived the same plan, for she encountered him on the veranda, heading in her direction.
    â€œThe accommodations are very pleasant, Father. We’ve seen our room and met the other ladies.”
    â€œGood.” He seemed distracted, looking past her and over the railing at the main deck below them. When she followed his gaze, however, she saw nothing unusual.
    â€œWhat are you watching?”
    â€œJust the men on the deck.” He turned back to her. “They’re rough, but that’s to be expected. Flatboat men, mostly.” He glanced in the direction of the ladies’ salon. “Where are the girls?”
    â€œSafe in the stateroom,” she said. “I wouldn’t leave them anywhere else. They know they’re not to roam without me.”
    â€œOf course.” He offered his arm. “Now, let me show you where I’m lodging, in case you have need of me.” She took hold of his elbow and they walked toward the bow.
    Hurrying workmen left the veranda as gentlemen emerged from their staterooms to gather at the rail for the departure. Two men in top hats and frock coats were so engrossed in their conversation that they almost collided with Ann and her father.
    â€œI beg your pardon,” the younger man said to Ann, putting out a hand instinctively to steady her. She recognized those gray eyes.
    â€œNot at all.” Her father smiled. “Mr. Allan Burbridge, this is my daughter, Miss Miller.”
    â€œA pleasure.” The young man removed his hat and bowed with military precision.
    â€œMr. Burbridge, I believe I’ve just met your family.” Ann returned his smile.
    â€œHave you? Then you may have also met the fair companions of my new acquaintance.” He indicated the older man with him, who was short and had removed his hat to reveal a head of graying hair. “Mr. Miller, Miss Miller, this is Mr. Philip Holmes.”
    â€œCharmed.” The older man spoke with one hand placed artfully at the lapel of his striped waistcoat.
    Her father shook hands with Mr. Holmes. “Mr. Burbridge and I are sharing a stateroom—that one there, the Connecticut Room.” He gestured to a cabin door a few feet past them, emblazoned with a state sign.
    This revelation both pleased and disturbed Ann. She hoped her father would not disturb Allan Burbridge by snoring in the night, as he did occasionally at home.
    Mr. Holmes made an odd and repellent sound in his throat, as if blasting everything in his breathing apparatus upward with a rattling honk. “Shall we go meet the other ladies?” His drawl emanated from