he observed.

"It's all happened because Billie Campbell has a mole on the sole of her
left foot and a Gypsy once told her that was the mark of the wanderer."

"But you and Elinor and Mary haven't any moles on the soles of your feet,
have you?"

"No, and neither has Miss Campbell."

"It's just as well," commented the Captain. "One is enough in the party
if it's going to take my little daughter away from her home most of the
time."

"Not most of the time, father," protested Nancy. "Only to Palm Beach and
across the Continent and to England--"

At this dangerous turn in the conversation, the
door was pushed open and Billie Campbell rushed
in, followed by Elinor Butler and Mary Price.

"It's all settled, Nancy-Bell," she cried. "Cousin Helen has consented
and the girls can go. Everything depends on you, now--"

"We are just studying the map," answered Nancy quickly, with a demure
smile.

Immediately the other girls seated themselves in a circle about the sea
captain and his charts, and Mrs. Brown, whose consent had already been
gained, presently appeared with a large platter of cookies.

So it was that the Motor Maids and Miss Campbell sailed through the
Golden Gate of San Francisco harbor one morning en route for the island
empire of Japan. On the long and sometimes tedious voyage we will not
dwell; nor shall we pause until we have left them on the piazza of their
new home in Tokyo, while seven Japanese servants are making profound
obeisances at the entrance and their attendant families, including three
grandmothers and five funny little children, bob and bow in the rear of
this formidable company.

Billie, who had scarcely left her father's side since the joyful moment
of their reunion, hung on his arm and smiled up into his face
inquiringly; while Miss Helen Campbell, his cousin, exclaimed:

"Dear me, Duncan; I thought we were to stay at a private house--not a
hotel."

Mr. Campbell, from his mysterious dwelling places in far distant lands,
had made so many things possible for the Motor Maids that Billie's three
friends had come to regard him as a kind of powerful spirit who had only
to will things to happen and they happened. At first they were rather shy
of the real Mr. Campbell, big and strong and splendid, the very image of
his daughter, Billie, if she had grown half a foot and cropped her light
brown hair closely all over her head.

"But, Cousin Helen, this is a private house," answered this human