tice, was considerably shaken by the impact.

Lucile flushed scarlet, but walked on with her head in the air, thankful
she had not expressed the thought that had rushed to her lips.

"Cranky old curmudgeon!" murmured Evelyn, vindictively. "It's lucky there
aren't so many of them in the world."

To their surprise, Lucile began to laugh with great enjoyment. "Girls,"
she said, "did you hear her say 'woof' when we clashed?"

Two hours later they sighted the harbor, and on board pandemonium broke
loose. Questions and answers were fired back and forth like bullets from
a Gatling gun, and everywhere field glasses were glued to eager eyes.

"So that's England?" said Lucile. "Oh, Jessie, pinch me!"

"Won't. Love you too much," said Jessie, gazing intently toward the
harbor, which became more and more distinct with every passing moment.

"Don't let any such soft scruples stand in your way," said Phil,
administering the desired pinch with such good effect that Lucile jumped
almost a foot and lowered her glasses to gaze reproachfully at him.

"Phil, that will be black and blue for a month," she said, with
conviction. "You needn't have done it so hard."

"You didn't say not to," said Phil, with the air of injured innocence
that sat so comically upon him. "Here comes old Charlie," he added, a
minute later. "Wonder if he's found anything since last night."

"Who in the world is old Charlie?" inquired Jessie, mystified.

"Old Charlie? Why, old Charlie is short for Monsieur Charloix, of
course," elucidated Phil, with the patronizing air of one speaking to a
peculiarly stupid child.

Instantly the girls' interest in Liverpool harbor waned, as they turned
smilingly to greet the historian of last night.

"I see Mademoiselle is entirely recovered from the seasickness," said he,
turning to Lucile. "It is good to see you looking so well."

"Thank you, Monsieur. I suppose you will be glad to get back to France?"

"Oh, very glad, for, though I admire your America, it is not to me like
my own country," said he, smiling.

It was not long before they were joined by other excited
fellow-passengers, all talking at once about what they intended to do
upon reaching land, and in the babble it was impossible to carry on any
but a disjointed conversation, so the girls wisely gave up trying.

Nevertheless, Lucile had been more deeply impressed than any of the rest
by the recital of Monsieur's tragic romance. It seemed, somehow, like the