I should like awfully to have one." "So should I," cried another.

"But, oh! wouldn't it be lovely if we could only have a picture of this group, standing just as we are aboard the ship.

It would make a splendid beginning for your camera." The bride, who, as Cabot saw, carried a small brand-new camera similar to one he had recently procured for his own use, promptly expressed her willingness to employ it as suggested, but was greeted by a storm of protests from her companions.
"No, indeed! You must be in it of course!" they cried.
Then it further transpired that all wished to be "in it," and no one wanted to act the part of photographer.

At this juncture Cabot stepped forward, and lifting his cap, said: "I am somewhat of a photographer, and with your permission it would afford me great pleasure to take a picture of so charming a group." For a moment the girls looked at the presumptuous young stranger in silence.

Then the bride, flushing prettily, stepped forward and handed him her camera, saying as she did so: "Thank you, sir, ever so much for your kind offer, which we are glad to accept." So Cabot arranged the group amid much laughter, and by the time two plates had been exposed, had made rapid progress towards getting acquainted with its several members.
The episode was barely ended before all who were to remain behind were ordered ashore, and, a few minutes later, as the ship began to move slowly from her dock, our traveller found himself waving his handkerchief and shouting good-byes as vigorously as though all on the wharf were assembled for the express purpose of bidding him farewell.
By the time the "Lavinia" was in the stream and headed up the East River, with her long voyage fairly begun, Cabot had learned that his new acquaintance was a bride of but a few hours, having been married that morning to the captain of that very steamer.