It was not the business that attracted them, but the
demon of American restlessness that pushed them on. They went back at
night in just the same hurry, and made equally hazardous jumps on the
Jersey side. They were mere shuttlecocks between the battledoors of
Jersey City and New York.
Tiffles and Patching lifted up the thin carpet bags which reposed at
their feet, and which contained an exceedingly small amount of personal
linen and other attire, and went on board the boat, followed by Marcus,
who was unencumbered with baggage. They entered the ladies' cabin. The
thick crowd of people pressed into the cabin in their front and rear,
and all about them, and scrambled for seats. There was a general
preference for the part forward of the wheelhouse, because it was a few
feet nearer New Jersey than the aft part. The rush to obtain these
preferred places was like that of the opera-going world for the front
row of boxes at a _matinee_. Ladies who obtained eligible seats, settled
themselves in them, spread out their dresses, put their gloved hands in
position, and smiled with a sweet satisfaction at ladies who had got no
seats.
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