Now, though, I've been through so many experiences, I feel as if I were
_in_ the play myself, not watching it from outside.

Everything was very nice, though very strange, to begin with.

Dear old Stan came out of his shell and actually travelled all the way
to Southampton to see me off, which was good of him, especially as Vic
explained that he and Sally Woodburn had been thrown at each other's
heads, in vain.

He'd brought me a great box of sweets, a bunch of roses, and several
magazines; and just as we were starting he slipped something small but
fat into my hand.

"That's to help you keep your end up, Kid, in case you're imposed on,"
said he. "You _are_ only a kid, you know; but all the same, don't let
them treat you like one, and if you get the hump over there, just you
cable me. I'll see you through, and have you back again with your own
sort, Mater or no Mater, hanged if I don't."

Stan never made me such a long speech before, and after we sailed and I
got time to look at the fat thing he'd put in my hand, I found it was a
lot of goldpieces bundled up in two ten-pound notes. The gold made
twelve sovereigns more, so Stan had given me altogether more than
thirty pounds. All that money, with the twenty pounds Mother had told
me to use only "when strictly necessary," made me feel a regular
millionaire. I've never had a sixth part as much before, in my life.

Stan's kindness was just like a cup of something warm and comforting
when you're tired and cold, so that I began to brighten up and feel
happy.

I liked our suite, with two staterooms, a bath, and a dear little
white-and-blue drawing-room, about as big as the old dolls' house I
inherited from Vic. I was thankful to find I was to chum with Miss
Woodburn, not Mrs. Ess Kay, for I _never_ could have stood that. It was
fun finding places to hang up our things when they were unpacked, and
Mrs. Ess Kay's French maid, Louise, helped me get settled, paying me so
many compliments on my hair, and my eyes and my complexion, that I grew
quite confused; but perhaps that's a habit in which American ladies
encourage their maids.

"But the marvel that is Miladi's hair! It is of the colour of gold, and
with a natural curl. It will be so great a joy if I may dress it. And
her complexion! It is beyond that of any English demoiselle I have
seen, yet all the world knows they are the best on earth. With such
eyes, no doubt Miladi can wear any colour; and she has the figure f