"Oh, well, if it's a scientific voyage, Uncle Sid, let's go right on."
"Must be that. It's something an' it ain't no pleasure excursion, that's sure!"
They plodded on. It seemed to Helen as if it were miles, she was certain it was hours. At last it grew lighter, and the yellow tawn of the sand appeared to have risen higher and higher, till the whole of the shrouding mist was a yellow haze.
"I can't go another step, Uncle Sid." Helen stopped short and sat down on a hummock of sand.
"What's the matter little girl? You seem sort o' done up this mornin'," Uncle Sid dropped beside her with a sounding slump. "There! here I be! If I didn't ring, it ain't because I ain't hollow."
He unfolded a paper bag and drawing forth some formidable sandwiches passed one to Helen and began eating one himself. The sandwiches disposed of, he again investigated the bag. This time he brought out two large oranges.
"They do one thing shipshape in this country." He was eyeing Helen keenly while tearing the rind from his orange. "They do up water in mighty neat shape, but they do charge for it though. That's what they do!" he rattled on. "These yellow water-balls cost me five cents apiece, they did!" He parted the segments carefully, anxious lest a drop of the juice should be wasted. Again his eyes rested thoughtfully on Helen's somber face.
"What's the trouble, Helen?"
Helen's answer was accompanied by a blended look of assent to Uncle Sid's assumption and a humorous denial of it.
"One is often absent minded over troubles that can't be explained even to one's best friends."