"Let Miss Aralia and Pansy have that spare cabin near mine. I'll talk to you afterwards, Tom."
Tom hung his head in sorrow—so it seemed,—but it really was to hide a smile.
He got near enough to his sisters to say: "Keep up your pecker, Pansy, for there won't be any Aberdeen about it."
In the spare cabin stood a big box that nobody had noticed before. Tom had smuggled it on board, and it contained his sisters' best things, and a full rig-out for them for the Arctic regions.
Sly old Tom!
He now stole into their cabin and gave them their clothes, and when Staysail came down to dinner at twelve, with his spy-glass under his arm, no wonder he cried: "Hillo! Hillo!"
For here were the three children, all mirth and smiles, seated beside Pete, and Tom, with head bowed down, waiting to take his seat.
"Hillo! Hillo! But what will your father and mother think, my dears?"
"Oh," cried Tom, "we made that all right! Father gave his consent, and he'll easily manage Mother."
"Steward!" shouted the captain, and Jake came running. "Put the other half-leaf in the table to-night, and lay covers for three more, for these young ragamuffins must mess with us in future."