It was a merry breakfast and a sad one in the weird light of the dining room, half daylight, half electricity. There were people glad to be home and people sad to be parting from newfound friends. Breakfast was eaten hastily, so that everyone was up on deck waving goodbyes, calling last minute messages, urging care, and trying to joke, all in one breath, as the great steamer settled to anchor and a small tender nestled up to it.
Maureen's dad, a burly looking Irishman with eyes of the deepest blue and lashes long and heavy, came aboard and took her in his arms. "Sure and 'tis good to have me baby home agin," he said. "And it's mighty fine you're looking in that perky new bonnet." He pushed her straw hat up and looked into her eyes. "And it's not changed a bit you are after all that long journey," he added.
He turned to her friends, "And you'll not be comin' to Ireland this trip?" He sounded genuinely disappointed. "But you'll be comin' back." He smiled kindly down upon them all. "And then you'll be stoppin' here and we'll be meetin' you and you'll be off to Dublin Town with the likes of us."
Nan liked Maureen's father. So did her friends. As he and Maureen went across the gang-plank to the tender, they all hung over the rail and waved. "We'll be seeing you in London," Nan called.
"Don't forget," Bess followed suit, "it's tea in London in coronation week."
"Are your passports all stamped for landing? Is your baggage tagged for Glasgow? Are you sure you have everything?" Dr. Beulah smiled down at the excited brood of young girls under her charge. "Have each of you a supply of English pounds and shillings? In short, are you ready to leave this boat and step your foot on foreign soil?"
They were all standing together on the boat's deck watching the maneuverings as the ship came to rest in its dock just outside Glasgow. There had been no end to the excitement since the girls waved Maureen off at Belfast and the ship steamed across the North Channel to the Firth of Clyde, passing countless fishing boats along the way.
Bess had turned from waving Maureen off and started back to the cabin. Midway, she had a strange presentiment that something was vitally wrong. She walked gingerly down the hallway, looking to the right and left at the narrow corridors between groups of staterooms. When she came to that from which Grace had said the Scotch hunchback had come forth several mornings before, she walked very quietly and listened attentively. She neither heard nor saw anything. It was as if the cabin was empty.