Clearly some of his oldtime worry had returned to him.  It might be, he was reflecting, that this far America was not as far as he had thought, and that he stood as much chance of encountering that danger which had made him fly from London, as he had stood there!  This troubled her intensely.

The odors of that crowded steerage gangway, the pressing of the weary women, the wailing of the frightened babies, the cursing of the men, as time passed, made the place seem an inferno.  M’riar, weak from seasickness, terrified by conversation which she heard around her about the deportation of such immigrants as had no money or too little, and fearful that she might be torn from the dear side of her beloved mistress in spite of all which she had done to follow her, shivered constantly and sometimes shook with a dry sob.  The hours were hours of nightmare.

Many of the women were half-fainting when, at last, the barges of the government were drawn up at the ship’s side for the transfer of the immigrants to Ellis Island, and across the narrow planks which stretched from them to the dingy little liner the motley crowd trooped wearily.  Kreutzer was near to absolute exhaustion, and shouldered their heavy trunk, lifted their heaviest bag, with difficulty.  His knees, it seemed to him, must certainly give way beneath him.  Seeing this gave M’riar something other than her fears to think of.

“Gimme th’ bag, now, guvnor,” she said quietly, although both she and Anna already were well burdened.

“Nein,” said the old man, gravely.  “Child, you could not carry it.”

“I could,” said Anna, quickly, and tried to take it from his hand, abashed that the small servant should have been more thoughtful of him than she was.

“Not much yer cawn’t,” said M’riar, positively.  “I ‘yn’t goin’ ter let yer, miss.  Ketch me! Me let yer carry bags!  My heye!”

“But M’riarrr,” Anna answered.  “You are so very little and it iss so very big!”

“Carry ten of ’em,” said M’riar, nonchalantly and nobly rose to the occasion despite the protests of both Anna and the flute-player.

There was little time for argument, for, an instant later, they were forced forward irresistibly by the pressure of the crowd behind them and soon found themselves, to their inexpressible relief, in the clear air of an open-sided deck on one of the big barges.  In another quarter of an hour they had started on their little voyage to the landing station upon Ellis Island, where Uncle Sam decides upon the fitness of such applicants for admission to his domain as have reached his shores “third-class.”