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The Voyage said Fenella’s father, giving grandma another strapped-up sausage.

“Thank you, Frank.”

“And you’ve got your cabin tickets safe?”

“Yes, dear.”

“And your other tickets?”

Grandma felt for them inside her glove and showed him the tips.

“That’s right.”

He sounded stern, but Fenella, eagerly watching him, saw that he looked tired and sad. Mia-oo-oo-O-O! The second whistle blared just above their heads, and a voice like a cry shouted, “Any more for the gangway?”

“You’ll give my love to father,” Fenella saw her father’s lips say. And her grandma, very agitated, answered, “Of course I will, dear. Go now. You’ll be left. Go now, Frank. Go now.”

“It’s all right, mother. I’ve got another three minutes.” To her surprise Fenella saw her father take off his hat. He clasped grandma in his arms and pressed her to him. “God bless you, mother!” she heard him say.

And grandma put her hand, with the black thread glove that was worn through on her ring finger, against his cheek, and she sobbed, “God bless you, my own brave son!”

This was so awful that Fenella quickly turned her back on them, swallowed once, twice, and frowned terribly at a little green star on a 186