Fairer than Morning by Rosslyn Elliott Page B

his nose. “I’m sure they will enjoy witnessing the boat’s departure.”
    After that honk, Ann was not so concerned about her father’s snoring.
    â€œSplendid idea,” Allan Burbridge said. When Ann’s father nodded, they all strolled back toward the stern. The deck was solid beneath them. Here, in the lee of the dock, the waves were mere lines traced in the water.
    Ann made a detour to fetch her sisters from the stateroom. She rejoined the party just as the gentlemen met the women at the starboard rail near the stern. As they exchanged further introductions, the Holmes women lavished Allan Burbridge with pretty speeches but barely acknowledged Ann’s father. She hoped her father would not notice, but even a man could not miss the deliberate one-sidedness of the conversation. Finally, Allan and Louisa turned away from the Holmes women to speak with the Millers.
    â€œMiss Miller’s father is a master saddler,” Louisa said to her brother, nodding to Ann in her friendly, subdued way. “Is that not intriguing?”
    â€œI suspected as much when he told me he was under contract with the O’Hara family,” Allan said. “But of course he was far too modest to go into detail.”
    â€œI believe we’re about to depart.” Ann was anxious for a change of subject. The Holmes’s behavior would not improve with any reminder of her father’s status, no matter how kind the Burbridges might be.
    The wharf beside them still crawled with men, but all the dockworkers had left the boat, leaving only the passengers and crew on the engine deck. The steam whistled out of the gauge cocks; the bell rang again. Louisa and Ann stood in companionable silence while Allan talked to Mabel and Susan with enthusiasm, pointing out parts of the ship and explaining how it worked in terms a child could understand. Ann liked the crinkles at the corners of his eyes when he laughed at some precocious comment from Mabel.
    â€œAnn, they’re casting off!” Susan pointed to the wharf.
    Two men were untying the mooring ropes. Looping them in their hands, they jumped across the gap to the boat with practiced ease. Ann could tell from Mabel’s alert posture that she wanted to try that daring jump herself. She had always been nimble, like Ann. There wasn’t a tree on the farm that Mabel hadn’t scaled. Ann would have to make sure her littlest sister did not try any adventurous feats on the packet boat. Fortunately Susan was more cautious and ladylike and would not do anything to jeopardize her new grown-up demeanor, now that she was all of eleven years old.
    The deck hummed beneath their feet. The great wheels began to turn, churning the water, pulling the massive vessel away from the dock. Bystanders on the docks cheered and waved their farewells to the passengers on board. In the icy wind off the river, the ladies nestled in their furs and the men shoved their hands in the pockets of their greatcoats.
    Below on the engine deck, men still carried wood by the armload to the bow. Men without such tasks sat on the nearest available box or pallet of goods. Ann saw cards and dice in two of the groups. Several audible curses flew up from one card game; she blushed and darted a glance at Allan Burbridge. She thought he had heard, but he gave the impression of deafness and deep concentration on what Susan was saying. That was considerate of him.
    A man stood apart from the card players, his back to Ann. She marked his beaver hat.
    Her father was staring with furrowed brow at the same man.
    When her father noticed her attention, he looked away and made a show of fumbling in his breast pocket for his watch.
    Perhaps she had reason for concern after all.

Seven
    S HIP TIME WAS PRECISE, BUT LITTLE GIRLS WERE NOT . Ann hurried toward the dining room, holding fast to the hands of Susan and Mabel, both of whom were out of breath from their rush to dress for supper. It had been ten