In the evening I was lying there wide-awake, wondering what they were doing out in the saloon. I could hear some one playing on the piano, and I thought maybe they were dancing. I was getting real missable again, when I saw a card slipping in under our state-room door.
Mamma was asleep, so I slid down out of my berth as easy as I could, and picked it up. My head was so dizzy I had to lie still two or three minutes before I could make out a single word that was written on it, but at last this is what I read:
"Didn't mean to be cross. Hate girl-babies, that's all. Course you ain't one. Didn't mean you was. Get well quick. I've got a cocoa-nut cake in my pocket for you, and a fillupene. Hurry up!"
I didn't feel missable any more, Clytie; and the next morning papa wrapped me up in mamma's blue and white afghan, and carried me up stairs, and put me in his big sea chair on deck.
Then, my Clytie, I wished you were with me, for it was so lovely with the water all round us, and the sunshine, and the blue sky seeming to touch the ocean all round. Randolph and Nettie and two other boys came and sat on the floor by me, and talked so fast I couldn't understand a word they said. Ranny fillupened with me, and Nettie gave me a big bunch of grapes; and before I knew it almost I was as well as anybody.
This all happened a week ago, and now nobody is seasick, and we have perfectly elegant times every single minute. There is a band on board, and they play splendid things every day when we are at dinner, and every evening on deck; and sometimes we dance, and it is just like a garden party or a picnic all the time. To-morrow is the Captain's birthday, and we're going to have a real Thanksgiving dinner, and a concert in the evening, and a ball at the end of it, and we children are going to dance as well as the grown-up people. If I can, I will write you about it afterward, but must say good-by for to-day, my sweet child. It is such a comfort to me to be able to trust all the other dolls to you. I know you will take good care of them. Be sure to have an eye to Mopsy with her broken arm, and Jack with his cracked nose. Above all, don't let Leonora snub Chloe—poor little black Chloe, who is just as dear to me as Leonora with her lily-white hands and rosy cheeks. See that she lets her alone, won't you, Clytie? Give my love to them all.
Your affectionate and anxious mamma,
Bessie Maynard.
[PARLOR MAGIC.]
During the long winter evenings our readers may find some of these simple tricks amusing to themselves and their friends: