It was only after they had started on that she noticed that the storm had blown itself out and the stars were shining. They were soon aboard a car bound for home.
An hour later, in the warmth of her room, and with the bag at their feet, Florence and Meg sat dreamily thinking their own thoughts.
Florence was not sure that she did not sleep a little. After the wild experiences of the night, followed by the battle with the storm, this would not be surprising.
She did not sleep long, however, and soon they fell to talking in the way girls will when the hour is approaching midnight and the strenuous experiences of an exciting night are all at an end.
At an end, did I say? Well, not quite. Perhaps you might say not at all; for did not the mysterious brown leather traveling bag, which had been wondered about and fought over, rest on the floor at their feet? And was not the seal unbroken? Did it not still contain Florence’s Christmas secret? And now it was just twenty-five minutes until midnight, the witching hour when secrets are revealed.
“There is just time for you to finish telling me about yourself before the tower clock strikes midnight,” said Florence, glancing at the small clock on her desk.
“Oh!” laughed Meg with a little shrug of her wonderful shoulders. “There really isn’t much to tell. I’ve already told you that since I was a slip of a child I’ve lived on ships with my uncle. He’s a mate. We’ve been on a lot of ships because he often drinks too much and can’t hold his position. He’s a big gruff man, but kind enough in his way.”
“That man who——”
“No, the man who told you about the train was not my uncle. That was Tim, a sailor. My uncle sent him.
“Well, you know,” she went on, “at first I was just sort of a ship’s mascot and the sailors’ plaything. They rode me on their backs and carried me, screaming with delight, to the top of the mast.