mander would have sheered off and dived away in panic, fearing some devil's ruse. Surely no harmless vessel (he ought to have gutturaled to himself) would travel as leisurely as that! How many U-boat captains must have fled her dignified presence, suspecting her to be one of Beatty's trick fleet, sent out to lure innocent submarines to death by loitering blandly on the purple sea. This is no ill-natured jibe. Slow ships are ever the best to travel on. Her unruffled, imperceptible progress across blue horizons is her greatest charm, and was undoubtedly her subtle security.
But passing along Pine street, about thirty tobacco whiffs after breakfast, I saw three maidens run out from the Peirce School in a high cackle of feminine excitement. Evidently they had been let off for the day. "What shall we do with these old books?" I heard one say. "Do we have to cart them round with us?" It was plain from their gleeful chatter that they were bound for Washington avenue. And then on Broad street I saw little groups of pedestrians hurrying southward. Over that spacious thoroughfare there was a feeling of suspense and excitement the feeling of "something happening" that passes so quickly from brain to brain. I could not resist temptation to go down and join the throng.
Washington avenue is not a boulevard of pleasure. Most of it is a dreary expanse of huge factories and freight cars. But over the cobbles citizens of all sorts were hurrying with bright faces.
