There was commotion in the Harris household, notwithstanding the very early hour--the sort of commotion which means that somebody is off for Europe, somebody who has preferred remaining at home, and rising as early as need he, to boarding the steamer the night before and spending it tied to a noisy dock. In this case there were three somebodies, and you can easily guess who; for there was that in Harold's letter that had made Mr. and Mis. Harris feel they really ought to go if they could, and that moved Marie-Celeste to declare that go they must; that, in short, made the hearts of all three go out very warmly to the lonely little fellow across the water. And the best part of it all was that it had been the easiest thing in the world to arrange matters, and that a cable bore to Harold the glad word that they would come, so that he had not even to wait for a letter. And now the one week of preparation was over, and the carriage was at the door, and Mr. and Mrs. Harris were in it, and Marie-Celeste was taking effusive and affectionate leave of the maids, who were smiling and crying all in one, after the manner of an Irish parting. And now even that is done with, and the carriage rolls off, and the wagon-load of steamer trunks and bags jogs after, and Mary and Bridget and Norah dry their eyes on their respective aprons, and go back to a general cleaning up today, and like as not to Coney Island to-morrow. And what if they do, thinks their mistress. Indeed, she is altogether willing that they should, for if there is ever a time when the contrasts in life will not be overlooked it is when you are on your way to the steamer. It seems so pitiful to see men and women on every hand plodding away at the same old, monotonous tasks, when ahead of you are all the delights of novelty, travel, and leisure. Oh! if only every one might have “his turn” in this world of ours; but since that is out of the question, let there at least be as much Coney Island for housemaids as is consistent with good morals and faithful discharge of their duties; at least so thought one dear little mistress, with more heart, perhaps, than discretion, but a heart, all the same, that won every one to her and made life in her household move with infinite smoothness.