t of the dear ones on the wharf.

"Where are they?" cried Jessie, frantically. "I can't see a soul----Oh,
yes; there's Dad's hat, I know--look, he's waving it----"

"And there's your mother, too, Evelyn," Lucile broke in. "See, she's
waving her handkerchief----"

"Oh, I can see them all now," said Evelyn, dancing up and down excitedly.
"They're all there, oh--oh-h----"

"Here's Phil," said Lucile, making room for him, as he wormed his way
through. "He didn't waste much time."

"Bet your life I didn't," said Phil. "How I found the place I don't
know--must have been a sort of instinct, I guess. Here you are, Mother."

Then there was a great noise and rattle as the gangplank was pulled up,
and a moment later the great ship began to draw away ever so slowly and
majestically, and the great whistle shrieked a blatant blast of farewell
to the shouting, cheering, handkerchief-waving crowd on the wharf.

"Lucy," whispered Evelyn, squeezing her friend's arm so tightly that it
hurt, "did you ever see anything like it?"

CHAPTER XII

MONSIEUR CHARLOIX

"What's the matter, Lucy? You look so--funny----"

It was the morning of the second day out and the three girls were leaning
against the rail, gazing dreamily out over the boundless expanse of
ocean. They wore natty white middy suits and, with floppy little sailor
hats shading flushed cheeks and laughing eyes, they made an alluringly
picturesque little group that had attracted much attention from their
fellow-passengers.

"I'm glad you think so," said Lucile, dryly, in response to Jessie's
question. "If I look the way I feel I must be a very laughable object!"

A quick glance of consternation passed between Jessie and Evelyn, and the
latter turned to Lucile with dismay in her uplifted eyebrows.

"Seasick?" she inquired in a still, small voice.

Lucile nodded grimly. "Rather," she answered. "Guess I'm going to die."

"Don't say that," begged the girls, stifling a desire to laugh and cry at
once.

"Oh, Lucy, dear, what can we do?" said Jessie, putting a comforting arm
about her friend, whose complexion had grown a peculiar, greenish-gray
color in the last few moments. "Don't you think you had better go below?
Maybe if you lie flat on your back you will feel better. Come, dear."

"I knew I'd go and spoil everything by getting seasick," moaned Lucile,
in the same toneless voice, and then, as a flash of her old saving humor
came to the front, she turned to the