ld that
be all right? I told her that I was sure it was perfectly right, but
if they went far they would find me gone when they returned, for I had
changed my mind and was going down to New York to see the voyagers
off. At this Peggy looked at me with tears sparkling in the edge of her
smile. Then she put her arms around my neck. "Good-bye," she whispered,
"good-bye! YOU'RE A DANDY TOO! Give mother my love--and THAT--and
THAT--and THAT!"

"Well, my dear," I answered, "I rather prefer to keep THOSE for myself.
But I'll give her your message. And mind this--don't you do anything
unless you really want to do it with all your heart. God bless you!
Promise?"

"I promise, WITH ALL MY HEART," said she, and then her soft arms were
unloosed from my neck and she ran up-stairs. That was the last word I
heard from Peggy Talbert.

On Saturday morning all the rest of us were on the deck of the Chromatic
by half-past nine. The usual farewell performance was in progress.
Charles Edward was expressing some irritation and anxiety over the
lateness of Stillman Dane, when that young man quietly emerged from the
music-room, with Peggy beside him in the demurest little travelling suit
with an immense breast-plate of white violets. Tom Price was the first
to recover his voice.

"Peggy!" he cried; "Peggy, by all that's holy!"

"Excuse me," I said, "Mr. and Mrs. Stillman Dane! And I must firmly
request every one except Mr. and Mrs. Talbert, senior, to come with me
at once to see the second steward about the seats in the dining-saloon."

We got a good place at the end of the pier to watch the big boat swing
out into the river. She went very slowly at first, then with
astonishing quickness. Charles Edward and Lorraine were standing on
the hurricane-deck, Peggy close beside them. Dane had given her his
walking-stick, and she had tied her handkerchief to the handle. She was
standing up on a chair, with one of his hands to steady her. Her hat had
slipped back on her head. The last thing that we could distinguish
on the ship was that brave little girl, her red hair like an aureole,
waving her flag of victory and peace. "And now," said Maria, as we
turned away, "I have a lovely plan. We are all going together to our
hotel to have lunch, and after that to the matinee at--"

I knew it was rude to interrupt, but I could not help it.

"Pardon me, dear Maria," I said, "but you have not got it quite right.
You and Tom are going to escort Alice a