little 'good Samaritan,'" she said, "to keep those two
nuisances quiet. The passengers owe you a vote of thanks. It is very sweet
of you, my dear, to sacrifice yourself for others in that way."

Lloyd grew very red. She had not looked upon it as a sacrifice. She had
been amusing herself. But after awhile story-telling did become very
tiresome as a steady occupation. She groaned whenever she saw the boys
coming toward her.

Fidelia joined them on several occasions, but her appearance was always
the signal for a quarrel to begin. Not until one morning when the boys
were locked in their stateroom for punishment, did she have a chance to
speak to Lloyd by herself.

"The boys opened a port-hole this morning," explained Fidelia. "They had
been forbidden to touch it. Poor Beauty was asleep on the couch just under
it, and a big wave sloshed over him and nearly drowned him. He was soaked
through. It gave him a chill, and mamma is in a terrible way about him.
Howl and Henny told Fanchette they wanted him to drown. That's why they
did it. They will be locked up all morning. I should think that you'd be
glad. I don't see how you stand them tagging after you all the time. They
are the meanest boys I ever knew."

"They are not mean to me," said Lloyd. "I can't help feelin' sorry for
them." Then she stopped abruptly, with a blush, feeling that was not a
polite thing to say to the boys' sister.

"I'm sure I don't see why you should feel sorry for them," said Fidelia,
angrily. At which the Little Colonel was more embarrassed than ever. She
could not tell Fidelia that it was because a little poodle received the
fondling and attention that belonged to them, and that it was Fidelia's
continual faultfinding and nagging that made the boys tease her. So after
a pause she changed the subject by asking her what she wanted most to see
in Europe.

"Nothing!" answered Fidelia. "I wouldn't give a penny to see all the old
ruins and cathedrals and picture galleries in the world. The only reason
that I care to go abroad is to be able to say I have been to those places
when the other girls brag about what they've seen. What do you want to
see?"

"Oh, thousands of things!" exclaimed Lloyd. "There are the chateaux where
kings and queens have lived, and the places that are in the old songs,
like Bonnie Doon, and London Bridge, and Twickenham Ferry. I want to see
Denmark, because Hans Christian Andersen lived there, and wrote his fairy
tales, and