ring to do so, "it is best for us all to go to our staterooms
directly and unpack our steamer-trunks. Perhaps in even an hour or two
we may not feel so much like doing it as we do now."

As they passed through the end of the dining-saloon, whose tables were
laden with bouquets of fresh and fragrant flowers, brought by loving
friends to many of the passengers, Malcom's quick eye spied a little
pile of letters on the end of a corner table.

"I wonder," said he, as he turned back to look them over, "if anybody
thought to write to us."

Returning with an envelope in his hands, he cried:--

"What will you give for a letter from home already, Barbara and Betty?"

"For us!" exclaimed the girls, "a letter from home for us! Why, we never
thought such a thing could be! How did it get here? Did papa bring one
and put it here?"

But no, for the letter addressed in the dear mother's handwriting was
clearly stamped, and its appearance testified that it had come through
the mail to New York.

Hurrying to their stateroom and sitting close to each other on the sofa
under the port-hole, they read Mrs. Burnett's bright, sweet motherly
letter, and a note from each of their brothers and sisters,--even a
crumpled printed one from five-year-old Bertie. So bright and jolly were
they all, that they allayed rather than heightened the first homesick
feelings, and very soon the girls were chattering happily as they busied
themselves with their unpacking.

The staterooms of the _Kaiser Wilhelm II._ are more commodious than can
be found in most steamships, even those of the same line. It was
delightful to find a small wardrobe in which to hang the warm wrappers
so useful on shipboard, and the thick coats that might be needed, and a
chest of drawers for underclothing, gloves, etc. Toilet articles were
put on the tiny wall-shelves; magazines and books on the top of the
chest of drawers; and soon the little room took on a bit of an
individual and homelike look which was very pleasing.

Mrs. Douglas and Margery were just opposite them, and Malcom close at
hand, so there was no chance of feeling too much adrift from the old
life.

"Hello, girls! Are you ready to come upstairs?" in Malcom's voice.

"How nice your room looks!" cried Margery; and up to the deck they
trooped to find that Malcom had seen that their steamer-chairs were well
placed close together, and that Mrs. Douglas was already tucked in under
her pretty Scotch rug.

How stran