"LAND, HO!"
Lucile opened her eyes slowly, lazily, and let them rove aimlessly about
the bright cabin; then, chancing to come upon Jessie and Evelyn sleeping
sweetly and peacefully, they stopped and focused resentfully.
"Nothing to do but sleep," she murmured, pushing back her rumpled curls
and yawning prodigiously. "I wonder why it is I always have to wake up
first," and then, her eyes happening to fall on Evelyn at this precise
moment, she cried, "Oh, I saw you wink, Evelyn; you can't fool me! You're
playing possum," and, springing quickly out of bed, she gave that young
lady a vigorous shake, which caused her to open her eyes rather
suddenly.
"Wh-what's the matter? Can't you let a fellow sleep?" she began, but the
laughter in her eyes belied the sleepy tone, and Lucile hugged her and
pulled her out of bed. "I'll admit you're a dabster, Evelyn, dear," she
cried, "but you will have to get up early in the morning to get the best
of your little friend."
Evelyn laughed merrily. "You whirlwind!" she cried. "Nobody has a chance
to sleep when you're around."
"Don't be too sure of that; look at Jessie. She is still sleeping the
sleep of the just."
"All right; let's make her get up, then. Even if she does want to sleep,
why should we worry?"
"Evelyn," cried Lucy, shocked, "you're getting most horribly slangy."
"Oh, Lucy, you look so funny, trying to be severe in that rig! It can't
be done!" And, with a laugh, she plumped down on something hard and
lumpy, which proved to be Jessie's feet. The outraged owner objected
promptly and emphatically.
"Oh, Jessie, I'm so sorry! Are those your feet?" cried Evelyn, in
concern.
"No; they are Lucy's," said Jessie, coldly, rubbing the injured members
gingerly.
Lucile laughed merrily. "Don't you go slandering my poor feet," she
cried. "Anyway, it serves you right for being so lazy, Jess."
"Oh, does it? Well, I'll just prove you wrong by beating you all on deck,
One, two, three--we're off!"
Then ensued a great amount of talk and laughter and wild scrambling for
clothing that would get out of sight, until at the end of half an hour,
our girls made a dash for the door at precisely the same instant.
"Oh, that's not fair," cried Evelyn, as Lucile wrenched open the door and
ran straight into the arms of the rather stout, middle-aged matron who
happened to be passing.
"Oh," she gasped, "I--I beg your pardon! I----"
"Look first, and you will save your apologies," said the sweet-tempered
lady, who, to do her justice, 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
plays their guardian had described to them. Phil, the skeptical, had
seemed inclined to think the story over-drawn, but the girls had
emphatically disagreed with him, overwhelming him by sheer force of
numbers. And way down in Lucile's heart was the hope that she would,
sooner or later, hear the finishing chapter of the romance. Whether this
premonition was inspired partly by her own desire or partly by the fact
that, sooner or later, they would be in France itself, where they would
have the opportunity of following the fortunes of the disconsolate
Frenchman, cannot be determined, but certain it was, the premonition was
there. As she had said to Jessie at the end of a long and excited
discussion the night before, "Stranger things have happened."
And so, in the girl's eyes, and, in fact, in the eyes of all who had
heard his story, even Phil, the stranger had taken on an added
importance, the importance of the chief actor in a romantic drama.
"I would like to help," Lucile murmured, as the Frenchman excused himself
and moved off down the deck. "I never saw any one look so wistful in all
my life."
"No wonder," said Jessie, in the same tone. "If I had been through all he
has, I'd never have lived to tell about it."
"And poor Jeanette!" Lucile mused on. "I'd give almost anything if I
could bring them together again."
Jessie glanced at her friend curiously. "Perhaps you will tell me now
that my dear old novels always exaggerate," she challenged.
"A little more of this sort of thing and I'll be able to believe
anything," Lucile answered, with a rueful smile. "It surely is
wonderful!"
"Oh, Lucy, dear, I may convert you yet," Jessie was crying gleefully,
when she was interrupted by another crowd of fellow-voyagers, who, for
the time being at least, cut her triumph short.
Later came the call to luncheon, and everybody hurried down to the
dining-room, where the atmosphere of excitement and unrest prevailed to
such a degree that people almost forgot to eat, or else bolted their
meals in half the ordinary time, anxious not to miss a moment above
decks.
Then, toward one o'clock in the afternoon, Mrs. Payton advised the girls
to get everything ready, and see that nothing was left in the stateroom.
"We will dock in a few minutes," she explained, "and we don't want to
leave everything until the last instant."
Down rushed the girls to the stateroom obediently, treading on each
other's heels and not even bothering to apologize, for what was so
everyday a thing as politeness at such a time?
Jessie and Evelyn waited in undisguised impatience while Lucile
fumblingly fitted the key into the lock with fingers that trembled
rebelliously.
"Oh, for goodness' sake, let me have it!" said Jessie, in desperation.
"Hold on a minute; there it is!" And as the door swung open, they tumbled
rather than walked into the room.
"Oh, bother! Where did I put my comb?" moaned Evelyn, searching wildly
under the dresser for the missing article. "You might know it would
disappear just when I haven't any time to look for it. Are you sure
you're not sitting on it, Lucy?"
"Of course not," denied Lucile; "but if you don't get off my suitcase
this minute, Jessie Sanderson, I'll know the reason why."
"Here's your comb, Evelyn! Catch!" said Jessie, throwing the missing
article toward her friend. "If you would only keep it over on your side
instead----"
"Oh, if you talk so much you will never be ready, Jessie! Do hurry!" And
so on in this fashion until, finally, the last thing was ready and they
tumbled up on deck again, only to be swallowed up by a jostling,
gesticulating throng intent, apparently, on getting nowhere in
particular, and doing it, withal, with a perseverance that was truly
admirable.
"Hello!" said Phil, elbowing his way through the crowd. "We dock in ten
minutes. Just look at the harbor now;" and he was off again.
With difficulty they made their way to the rail and stood gazing at the
scene with wondering eyes and parted lips. Craft of all sizes and
descriptions plowed and snorted through the ruffled water, and everywhere
was life and bustle and activity. And further back, past the lines of
docks and warehouses, the girls could discern the spires and steeples
of--England!
"Well," came Mr. Payton's gruff, hearty voice from just behind them, "how
do you like your first glimpse of the Old World, eh? It won't be any time
at all before you set foot upon it."
"Oh, Daddy, isn't it magnificent?" said Lucile, drawing a long breath.
"It all looks just exactly the way I dreamed it would, though. Oh, I
can't wait!" and she leaned far over the rail, as if by that means to
bring it so much the nearer.
Her father's strong hand drew her back to safety, and he said,
reprovingly, "Don't do that again, Lucy. Accidents will happen, you
know."
"Even in the best-regulated families," finished Lucile, gaily.
Her father laughed, and pinched the tip of one pink ear fondly. "I
suppose there is no use trying to make any of you serious at such a
time," he said, with the resigned air of one giving up all hope; "but
there is one little phrase that it will be well for you to remember, and
that is, 'Safety first.'"
And with that fatherly admonition he left them, bidding them wait where
they were until he could rejoin them. In a few minutes he returned,
bringing his wife and Phil, declaring that nothing now remained to be
done but walk off the ship when the time came.
The great "Mauretania" was very near her destination now, and was nosing
her way carefully through the traffic, convoyed by two snorting and
puffing tugs. The raucous shouts and cries of sailors and watermen came
to their ears, with now and then a snatch of song from the decks of some
tall, four-masted freighter. There were shouts of "aye, aye, sir" and
"ship, ahoy," mingled with the rasping of cables and the clatter of cargo
cranes--and behind all this noise and confusion lay the quaint, historic
streets of Liverpool, and later, London, filled with the glory of ancient
times.
The girls' eyes were large and dark with wonder and excitement as they
lowered their glasses and looked at each other.
"Yes, you are awake," said Mrs. Payton, with a laugh, interpreting the
look.
"Jessie looks as though she had just seen a ghost," said Phil.
A few minutes later the great liner was warped securely alongside the
great landing stage, while the whistle shrieked a noisy greeting.
Passengers hurried from one group to another, shaking hands in a final
farewell with shipboard acquaintances whom they had come to know so well
in so short a time. Porters hurried past, laden with luggage, and groups
of eager passengers formed about the entrance to the gangways.
"I feel as though my hand had been shaken off," said Evelyn, regarding
that very necessary appendage ruefully.
"Oh, there's Mrs. Applegate and Puss," said Lucile, and darted off
through the crowd so suddenly that the girls could only follow her with
their eyes.
"Lucile," cried Mrs. Payton, and then, as her voice would not carry above
all the noise, "Go after her, Phil," she said. "If she gets separated
from us now, we will have a hard time finding her."
Phil hurried off and was soon lost to sight in the swaying crowd.
"Oh, what did she do that for?" wailed Jessie. "If Lucy goes and gets
lost now in all this crowd----"
"Don't worry; Phil will have her back in a jiffy," said Mr. Payton,
soothingly, but the frown on his forehead betrayed his own anxiety.
The gangplanks were lowered, and the people had already begun to surge
forward, and still no sign of either Lucile or Phil.
They eagerly searched the faces of the passers-by, nodding to some, yet
scarcely seeing them, while Mr. Payton began to mutter something about
"tying a string to that cyclonic young flyaway" when he got her back
again.
Five minutes passed. The deck was beginning to be emptied of people, and
they had begun to make their way slowly toward the gangplank, when Phil
came rushing up to them, very red and very much out of breath.
"Well?" they cried together, and Mr. Payton took him by the shoulder,
demanding, sternly, "Where is she?"
"Wouldn't it make you sick?" panted Phil, disgustedly. "Here I rush all
over the boat trying to locate her, and get everybody scared to death,
thinking she's fallen overboard or something, and then I find her down on
the float there, talking to the----"
"What?" interrupted Mr. Payton, incredulously.
"Yes. Isn't it the limit?" said Phil, fanning himself with his hat. "Said
she couldn't find her way back to you, so thought she'd wait with the
Applegates at the foot of the gangplank; said she knew you would find her
there."
The girls laughed hysterically, and even Mr. Payton's stern face relaxed;
the action was so truly "Lucilian."
"Well, I suppose all we can do is to follow," said Mr. Payton, and Mrs.
Payton added, pathetically, "I do wish Lucile would be a trifle less
impulsive now and then; it might save us a good deal of trouble."
Mr. Payton had felt inclined to read his "cyclonic" young daughter a
lecture, but the sight of her bright young face completely disarmed him,
and he could only breathe a prayer of thankfulness that she was safe.
They said good-by to Mr. and Mrs. Applegate and their very diminutive
daughter--whom somebody had fondly nicknamed "Puss"--and turned to follow
the crowd. A short time later they set foot for the first time on the
soil of the Old World.
"Where are we going, Dad, now that we're here?" asked Phil.
"To London, as fast as we can, by the train that connects with our
steamer," said his father. "Stick together, everybody--here we are," and
he hustled them before him into the long coach--for in England, you must
remember, trains are not made up of cars, but of "coaches."
By this time it was getting late, and after vainly trying to distinguish
objects through streaked and misty glass, the girls gave up and leaned
back with a sigh of tired but absolute content.
"Well, we're here, and still going," said Lucile, happily, feeling for
her friend's hands.
"We jolly well know that, my de-ar," came in sweet, falsetto tones from
Phil. "We ought to have no end of sport, you know; rippin', what-what!"
"Bally goose!" murmured Jessie.
The reproof that rose to Mrs. Payton's lips was drowned in a shout of
laughter.