t a new craft and set sail, prepared for a long voyage. Your
father was away, so Tom volunteered, and here we are."

"A jolly lark! now let us go home and go to bed," proposed Mark, with a
gape.

"Isn't it most morning?" asked Tony, who had been sleeping like a
dormouse.

"Just eleven. Now pack up and let us be off. The storm is over, the moon
coming out, and we shall find a good supper waiting for the loved and
lost. Bear a hand, Tom, and ship this little duffer, for he's off
again."

Uncle Ed put Gus into the captain's arms, and, taking Rita himself, led
the way to the sleigh which stood at the door. In they all bundled, and
after making the house safe, off they went, feeling that they had had a
pretty good time on the whole.

"I will learn cooking and courage, before I try camping out again,"
resolved Gwen, as she went jingling homeward; and she kept her word.

IX.

MY LITTLE SCHOOL-GIRL.

The first time that I saw her was one autumn morning as I rode to town
in a horse-car. It was early, and my only fellow-passenger was a crusty
old gentleman, who sat in a corner, reading his paper; so when the car
stopped, I glanced out to see who came next, hoping it would be a
pleasanter person. No one appeared for a minute, and the car stood
still, while both driver and conductor looked in the same direction
without a sign of impatience. I looked also, but all I could see was a
little girl running across the park, as girls of twelve or thirteen
seldom run nowadays, if any one can see them.

"Are you waiting for her?" I asked of the pleasant-faced conductor, who
stood with his hand on the bell, and a good-natured smile in his eyes.

"Yes, ma'am, we always stop for little missy," he answered; and just
then up she came, all rosy and breathless with her run.

"Thank you very much. I'm late to-day, and was afraid I should miss my
car," she said, as he helped her in with a fatherly air that was
pleasant to see.

Taking a corner seat, she smoothed the curly locks, disturbed by the
wind, put on her gloves, and settled her books in her lap, then modestly
glanced from the old gentleman in the opposite corner to the lady near
by. Such a bright little face as I saw under the brown hat-rim, happy
blue eyes, dimples in the ruddy cheeks, and the innocent expression
which makes a young girl so sweet an object to old eyes.

The crusty gentleman evidently agreed with me, for he peeped over the
top of the paper at his plea