"Hephzy," said I, "when we meet Little Frank over there in France, or
wherever he may be, you will want him to be favorably impressed with
your appearance, won't you? These things cost money of course, but we
must think of Little Frank. He has never seen his American relatives and
so much depends on a first impression."

Hephzy regarded me with suspicion. "Humph!" she sniffed, "that's the
first time I ever knew you to give in that there WAS a Little Frank.
All right, I sha'n't say any more, but I hope the foreign poorhouses are
more comfortable than ours, that's all. If you make me keep on this way,
I'll fetch up in one before the first month's over."

We left for New York on the five o'clock train. Packing those "Early
English Poets" was a confounded nuisance. They had to be stuffed here,
there and everywhere amid my wearing apparel and Hephzibah prophesied
evil to come.

"Books are the worse things goin' to make creases," she declared.
"They're all sharp edges."

I had to carry two of the volumes in my pockets, even then, at the very
start. They might prove delightful traveling companions, as the bookman
had said, but they were most uncomfortable things to sit on.

We reached the Grand Central station on time and went to a nearby hotel.
I should have sent the heavier baggage directly to the steamer, but I
was not sure--absolutely sure--which steamer it was to be. The "Princess
Eulalie" almost certainly, but I did not dare take the risk.

Hephzy called to me from the room adjoining mine at twelve that night.

"Just think, Hosy!" she cried, "this is the last night either of us will
spend on dry land."

"Heavens! I hope it won't be as bad as that," I retorted. "Holland is
pretty wet, so they say, but we should be able to find some dry spots."

She did not laugh. "You know what I mean," she observed. "To-morrow
night at twelve o'clock we shall be far out on the vasty deep."

"We shall be on the 'Princess Eulalie,'" I answered. "Go to sleep."

Neither of us spoke the truth. At twelve the following night we were
neither "far out on the vasty deep" nor on the "Princess Eulalie."

My first move after breakfast was to telephone Campbell at his city
home. He hailed me joyfully and ordered me to stay where I was, that is,
at the hotel. He would be there in an hour, he said.

He was five minutes ahead of his promise. We shook hands heartily.

"You are going to take my prescription, after all," he crowed. "Didn't