d his plans at the last minute and had decided to take
passage from New York on the great steamer "Mauretania."

In talking things over, the girls' parents and one or two of their
relatives had decided to take the trip with them as far as New York, and
from there give them a glorious send-off.

The girls' desire and curiosity to see the great metropolis had been
heightened by their guardian's vivid recitals of her experiences, and
they were on edge with expectancy.

"I wish we were going to spend some time in New York," Phil was saying.
"We just shoot in and then right out again."

"You ungrateful heathen!" Lucile chided. "What do you expect? I'd like to
spend a year in New York, too, but we can't do everything at once."

What Jack might have replied will never be known for just then they heard
the whistle of the train. The journey had begun.

CHAPTER X

WHIRLED THROUGH THE NIGHT

Mile after mile, the long train rumbled on over shining rails that fell
away behind and merged in the far-distant sky-line. The first rays of the
morning sun struck on the brilliant metal and gathered up the dazzled
sunbeams to scatter them broadcast over hills and fields and flying
houses. Now and then the hoarse whistle of the engine broke the early
morning quiet, only to be flung back on itself by wood and cave and
mountainside in a scornful shout of mockery.

And still the girls slept on in the dreamless, heavy sleep of tired
girlhood. Of course, not one of the three had had the least intention of
doing anything so commonplace as going to sleep; in fact, the very idea
had been vaguely irritating. Had they not looked forward to this very
thing for months--at least, so it seemed to them--and it was almost
impossible for them to have patience with the idiocy of any one who could
calmly suggest slumber at such a time. And Phil--for it was at him that
this Parthian shot had been aimed--had evinced remarkable self-control,
in that he had refused to argue, but had continued to smile in an
aggravatingly superior manner, which had said more plainly than words:
"You think you mean it, no doubt, but I, who am wise, know what
simpletons you are."

Of course, Phil was right, as they had known in their hearts he would be,
in spite of all their resolution, and it was not until the sun struck
through the little window and dashed upon Lucile's sleeping face in a
golden shower that she stirred impatiently and brushed her hand across
her