you that it wasn't long before Teddy and Polly were prime favorites on board with all with whom they came in contact.

But we must return to our little ones, who, you know, were watching the dock and the preparations for the start. They didn't know anybody on the dock, but wished all the same to do as much handkerchief-waving as anybody else, so they went at it heart and soul; and, though the breezes didn't play tricks on any of the "grown-ups," yet they certainly did with Polly and Teddy, for presently there were two small handkerchiefs floating in the air, and far beyond the reach of the surprised little owners, whose eyes were following their property hopelessly enough.

But the little couple didn't care. "Let's play they're little white birds," laughed Polly, secretly wishing they had some more to float off. You see, they were too happy to mind any sort of mishap not serious. The little handkerchiefs floated farther on, and finally landed around the corner of the dock. While the children were pulling Mamma's gown to call her attention to it, and tell her about the mishap, there came a last shout of "Good-bye! good-bye!" from those on deck and on shore, and the gang planks were hauled in, and with a slow, very gentle movement, as the mooring-ropes were cast off and pulled on board, the big steamship moved away from the pier, and the distance gradually widened between her stern and the watchers on the dock, who were still waving hats, handkerchiefs, and canes with handkerchiefs fastened to their heads, so that the farewell signals might reach as high and as far as possible.

CHAPTER V.

The luncheon in the beautiful flower-decked dining-saloon was, I will add, another most interesting event for them; and though they felt a little shy at first, and afraid of the attentive stewards, and of so many strangers at a time all about them, yet I can assure you they behaved like a little prince and princess, and nobody even guessed how shy they were (though everybody near them did notice, I will say just here, what cultivated little table manners "that dear little couple" possessed).

Well, it was some time since luncheon was done with, and while Papa and Mamma were lolling back in their steamer chairs reading, Teddy and Polly were standing close by, looking over the rail. The wind had arisen greatly during the afternoon, and big rolling waves were chasing each other over the water, making "soap-suds" white and foamy as Bridget and Ann at home used to make on washing-days.

Teddy wore a little velvet traveling-cap, black, of course, to match his velvet knickerbockers and the little jacket he wore over his white frilled shirt with its broad white collar. Just now the wind had blown his cap almost off his head (fortunately it couldn't blow it out to sea, for wise Mamma had secured it with a cord to a buttonhole in his jacket), and it was tilted a little on one side of his brown, soft curls, and was giving his pretty face a very roguish expression. Polly was wearing a dainty grey dress and little jacket, and a grey "Tam o' Shanter" cap upon her sunny head. The wind had a fine time blowing her long wavy hair about her shoulders, but her cap was as safely secured as Ted's, so they didn't mind the pranks of the wind, which seemed to blow harder every minute.

Although Teddy's face looked, as I have said, quite roguish, and although Polly was chattering away, seemingly as merrily as possible, yet neither of them felt very roguish or merry, and pretty soon Teddy said, in a sort of subdued tone: "I—I don't really think decks are nice as gardens, do you, Polly?"

"Polly and Teddy made friends with the captain's little boy."

"Why, Teddy Terry!" was the surprised reply, "you said your own self, jus' a teenty time ago, that you liked decks lots better'n our gardens!"

"Well, gar—gardens don't make you feel so—so sort of queer right here!" said Ted, laying his chubby hand on his chest. "Don't you feel something funny inside?"

"Well, I don't feel real good, Teddy, but—let's—oh, let's—I must go and ask Mamma what makes me feel so queer." And suddenly turning from the rail, the little girl, who had never before had such strange sensations, staggered over to her mother's side, and with pale face begged to go and lie down.

Teddy followed her, equally white and fearful, and Mamma and Papa at once led them down the stairs to the state-rooms.

"Poor little tots!" said Papa; "you're only having your first experience of sea-sickness! It won't last long."

Teddy and Polly didn't care how long or how short things might last, if only they could just that minute feel better. But the "funny feeling" relieved itself in the usual way very soon, and our little couple were put into their berths and comforted and petted until they fell asleep, and as they slept poor Papa and Mamma had their little turn at the same kind of discomfort, and, when they were relieved, followed the children's example and took a long nap. They didn't care for dinner that night, either of the party, and in fact very few of the passengers went to the dining-saloon, for the steamer was having such a wild frolic and dance on the waves that things were hardly comfortable on deck or in the saloons, and the stewardesses and stewards were very busy all night, and for all the next day, because the gale lasted so long and made so much seasickness on board that nobody felt very happy, you see.