"It doesn't exist at all for you. You are not of age, Dolly."

"I'm old enough to know the things one can learn by heart!" was
Dolly's comment.

When the Diana was leaving St. Thomas at sunset and we were well on
our way to St. Croix, Dolly made a half confidence.

"You are not my chaperon, Charlotte, because in my hour of need I
simply fastened myself to you like a limpet, or an albatross, or a
barnacle, or any other form of nautical vampire that you prefer.
Still, I might as well confess that I cabled to Duke, or wirelessed,
or did something awfully expensive of that sort at St. Thomas while
you were having that interminable talk with the captain, who, by the
way, is married and devoted to his wife, they say."

"That was foolish and extravagant, my child," I answered. "I don't
know what you said, but I have the most absolute confidence in your
indiscretion. I hope you remembered that all messages are censored in
war-time?"

"I did, indeed," she sighed. "I was never so hampered and handicapped
in my life, but I think I have outwitted the censors. I wish I were as
sure about--mother!"

* * * * *

S.S. Diana, January 26

St. Croix was delightful, with a motor-ride across the island from
Frederikstad to Christianstad, where we lunched.

Dolly's mind is not in a state especially favorable for instruction,
but I took a guidebook, and, sitting under a wonderful tamarind tree,
read her Alexander Hamilton's well-known letter describing a West
Indian hurricane, written from St. Croix in 1772.

We were with a party of Canadian acquaintances made on shipboard and
greatly interested in our first visits to sugar plantations. Vast
cane-fields of waving green stretched mile after mile on the right and
on the left, making it seem incredible that a Food Commissioner need
beg the sweet tooth to deny itself in the midst of such riotous
plenty.

There was a dazzling glare from the white buildings of the town and
the coral roads, but the moment we reached the outlying country all
was verdant and restful. The beautiful hard roads ran like white
ribbons over velvet hills and through rich valleys; tall windmills,
belonging to the earlier days of sugar-making, rose picturesquely from
the magnificent palms and other shade-trees; there were brilliant
flowers and blossoming vines breaking through hedges here and there,
and acres of pineapples a