Stephie senses they’re being stared at. She looks up to find two old men, on the bench opposite the girls, gazing openly and curiously at them.

“Why are they looking at us like that?” Nellie asks anxiously.

“It’s the name tags,” Stephie guesses.

One of the men puts a wad of snuff under his top lip. A drop of brown saliva seeps out of the corner of his mouth. He says something to his friend, chuckling.

“Let’s take them off,” Stephie decides, folding the name tags into her knapsack. “Come on, we’re going outside.”

The girls stand on the deck. They can see where the river joins the ocean. A tugboat is piloting one of the big ships toward the port. The little one seems to be pulling the big one, like a child eagerly tugging at its mother to show her something. It looks funny. Red brick warehouses line the riverbanks. Huge loading cranes jut into the air, looking like giraffes with long necks.

Nellie fingers her coral necklace. It’s actually her mother’s, bought by Papa long, long ago when the two honey mooned in Italy. Nellie has always loved the irregular slivers of pink coral. Her mother gave it to her just as they were leaving on this journey.

“Tell me more about the resort, Stephie,” she begs. “Will I be able to swim there?”

“You’ll have to learn,” says Stephie. “Every afternoon the people go to their hotel rooms for a rest. After dinner they stroll in the park and listen to the band.”

“Are we going to stay at a hotel?”

“I don’t know. Maybe the people who are taking us in will be hotel owners.”

“Then we’ll get everything, free of charge.”

“Or maybe they have a house at the shore. With a private beach.”