"Well, I'm glad you've come in at last," she said, with a reproachful look directed at Mildred. "It was really very thoughtless to keep Adelaide out so late."
"She didn't keep me, mamma," answered the child with spirit. "I could have come in any minute if I had chosen. I was not even asked to stay."
"Don't be pert, Adelaide," said her mother. "Dear me, how the vessel begins to rock! I shall be deathly sick before morning."
"That would have been less likely to happen if you had followed Mildred's example in staying on deck as long as possible," remarked her husband, turning his paper and beginning another article.
"I should have caught my death of cold," she retorted snappishly, "but perhaps you wouldn't have cared if I had. And I think it's quite insulting to have a chit of a girl like that held up to me as an example."
Mildred had walked away and did not hear this last remark. Adelaide had slipped her hand into Mildred's, and was saying, "I like you, cousin. We'll be good friends, shan't we?"
"It shall not be my fault if we're not," Mildred said, forcing a smile; for Mrs. Dinsmore's fault-finding had hurt her feelings and caused a decided increase of the homesickness. But determined to overcome it she gathered the children about her at a safe distance from their mother, and told them stories till interrupted by the summons to the tea table.
They had a rather rough sea that night and the next day, causing a good deal of sickness among the passengers. Mildred, taught by past experience, fought bravely against it seeking the deck soon after sunrise and spending almost the whole day there in company with her uncle.
The second day she experienced no difficulty and was joined by her cousins; but Mrs. Dinsmore kept her berth to the end of the voyage, and when the vessel arrived in port, came from her stateroom pale, weak and disconsolate.