Rachel and I wept when we saw her, standing tall and green and lit up.

I had seen the Statue of Liberty once before. We passed her on the Mauretania on our way to Europe a month before.

"You know what this means?" she asked me. "A soft bed, clean clothes, warm food and a nice hot bath."

"Maybe trousers?" I whispered to her.

"Maybe not for a little while longer," Grandmama said, overhearing the conversation. "At least we're safe."

The Statue of Liberty wasn't the only thing we noticed. Several boats came up alongside of us.

We suddenly noticed thousands of people lined up along the shoreline. Since we boarded Titanic from a ferry boat at Cherbourg, we weren't there to see the thousands of well-wishers cheering the great ship as she started on her first voyage at Southhampton.

But we heard whispers that the crowd welcoming us to New York Harbor were much larger. Some were family members and friends who were there to comfort survivors.

The vast majority were curiosity seekers there to witness the final part of a great tragedy. Unlike the crowd at Southhampton, they weren't cheering.

It was more of a subdued crowd. It still seemed surreal.

Included in the crowd, as Grandmama feared, were members of the press. Some were on the boats that welcomed us into the harbor. They were shouting questions to us.

"Neither of you dare answer," Grandmama whispered.

We didn't.

A couple of enterprising journalists managed to climb aboard from a tugboat that came alongside of us. But they were immediately caught by members of Carpathia's crew.

"They will be detained until everyone of you is off the ship," Capt. Rostron shouted from his bullhorn.

He cautioned us not to talk to them, that they would take advantage of us just to get a good story.

Trust me, most of us didn't want to talk anyway. We were too tired. We were ready to get off the ship.

There was one more emotional moment before we were allowed off. The Carpathia pulled up to the pier were Titanic was supposed to come to rest after completing her first voyage across the Atlantic.

Many of us cried as Titanic's lifeboats were lowered and placed in the spot reserved for the White Star Line. They were all that remained of the largest ship, the grandest ship in the world.

We were then given instructions not to leave the ship unless someone was there to meet us. Fortunately, there was someone there to meet us.

A black-haired man graying along the sides and wearing brown hat stood on the pier awaiting us. He had a funny mustache. He looked a few years younger that Grandmama.

"That is Henry Hobbes," Rachel said as we walked arm-and-arm off the boat.

I looked out of the corner of my eye and saw another familiar face, my Uncle Walter, who was there to pick up my mother and sisters back to Lancaster, believing his young nephew had perished aboard the Titanic.

I turned away, not wanting him to recognize me, even if he possibly could with me dressed as I was.

It was an amazing contrast from the last time that I saw him. He saw us off on the Mauretania. He and I made fun of mom and my sisters in their fancy dresses.

Now, here I was wearing one, although it wasn't really clean and felt awfully sweaty. It made me realize how some of the Amish girls and women back home in Lancaster County must have felt toiling in the fields and around the house.

Before we were able to make it to Mr. Hobbes, a couple of newspaper reporters forced their way through the crowd to try to talk to Grandmama. There were photographers trying to take our picture.

"Sorry boys, but the girls and I are extremely tired and need our rest," Grandmama said.

"Aggie, you are a sight for sore eyes," Mr. Hobbes said as he opened the door to a green automobile. "And who is this young Lady with you and Miss Rachel?"

"Her name is Leah, and she is going to be staying with us for a while," Grandmama said. "I will fill you in about her when we get inside the automobile. Speaking of which, is this new?"

"Oh yes, ma'am," he replied. "I bought it while you and Miss Rachel were traveling all over Europe."

He made an off-handed joke about the contrast of the last time he saw them. They began their journey with several trunk loads of clothing that had to be loaded up. It took Mr. Hobbes quite a while to instruct the ship's crew members of what to do with it since Grandmama and Rachel were traveling alone.

Then he suddenly realized what happened to those trunk loads as Rachel told him we entered the lifeboat with just the clothes on our backs.

"I'm terribly sorry ladies," he said. "You must forgive me."

"Oh don't worry about it, Henry," Grandmama said as we began our journey to our hotel.

And then she hit Mr. Hobbes with the news about me.

His jaw hung open for several seconds.

"Pardon me, Leah," he said. "I can't believe you're a boy."

I blushed and told him that was ok.

"I'm not exactly sure of that myself these days," I said.

The truth is I wondered when I would return to being just Michael Rinehart, a Pennsylvania Dutch boy from Lancaster. And a part of me wondered when I would stop being Leah Pierpoint, the girl who was rescued from the Titanic.

It was during this course of conversation that Grandmama revealed her plan. There would be people who knew Grandmama only had one surviving granddaughter.

My parents, Grandmama would tell people, were steerage. They died on the Titanic. She made the decision to adopt me as her own granddaughter.

"And for the time being, Leah, is to be treated as a girl," Grandmama said. "She is to be treated no differently as Rachel, she is to be treated as my granddaughter, understood?"

"Understood, Aggie," Mr. Hobbes said.

"And Leah, until I say otherwise, you are a girl, understood?" she said to me.

"Yes ma'am," I said.

She explained the reason why. She was one of the most prominent survivors of the sinking. Newspaper reporters would be hanging around our hotel. They would be following us around town.

"And they will be questioning anybody who is around us," Grandmama said. "That includes hotel maids, doormen, store clerks, waiters."

She only had to remind us of the reporters who greeted us as we got off the Carpathia to prove her point.

"That reminds me, Aggie," Mr. Hobbes said. "Reporters from the New York Times, the Post, the Journal and the Philadelphia Inquirer all want to interview you."

"I will talk to them in the next couple of days," Grandmama said. "But the girls and I need some time to recover. Can you ask them to respect that? I know they won't, but can you ask them, too?

*****

Grandmama thought it a bit ironic that the hotel Henry Hobbes booked for us was the Waldorf-Astoria.

"J.J. was one of the founders of the hotel," she said of the man who was not quite as fortunate as we to survive the sinking.

It was also probably fitting. Grandmama teared up as we traveled by Macy's, which had a wreath on the door in memory of her good friends, Ida and Isador Straus.

Even Mr. Hobbes teared up when Grandmama told him about how both refused to get on a lifeboat, the husband who refused to take a seat while younger men were being refused, and the faithful wife who wanted to remain by his side.

"That is very romantic, and very sad," he said. "You could always tell they loved each other so much."

The hotel fit the mood. It was still owned by the Astor family. Even though Mr. Astor's marriage to young Madeleine had caused ill feelings in his family, he was still beloved by much of the hotel staff.

The fact that many other of Titanic's wealthier survivors were also staying at the hotel contributed to the mood. It also meant the hotel would be a gathering place for reporters.

"I wished now I would have booked us for The Plaza," Mr. Hobbes said. "It's new, but it's nice."

"No, this is fine, Henry," Grandmama said. "We're only going to be here for a few days. When we're completely rested up, we'll head home to Philadelphia."

Our suite was the nicest I'd ever been in, although I'm sure Grandmama and Rachel were quite used to it.

"Girls, you room is in there," Mr. Hobbes said.

We rushed into the room, where several of Rachel's dresses were already hanging up.

We were more interested in the nice, soft bed. We plopped down on it at almost the same time.

"Girls, get off the bed in those filthy clothes," Grandmama said. "It's bath time. I'll bring you a couple of night gowns after you're done. We're staying in the rest of the night. I'll have Henry make sure some food is brought up."

We didn't complain. We looked forward to a nice hot bath, clean clothes and warm food, just as Rachel said when we saw the Statue of Liberty.