people. I--I
don't think I want any breakfast. Couldn't you bring me a mug of milk
and one piece of bread?"

Miss Drayton came forward with a cordial smile. "Come to breakfast with
me, dear. My sister is not well enough to leave her stateroom this
morning, so there will be a vacant seat beside me. I am Miss Drayton and
this is my nephew, Patrick Patterson, who has such an appetite that it
will make you hungry just to see him eat. After breakfast we'll find
your uncle and scold him about forgetting you. Or perhaps he didn't
forget. He may have wanted you to have a morning nap to put roses in
those pale cheeks. Will you come with me?"

"If you would just take charge of her, ma'am," exclaimed the stewardess.

Anne's sober face had brightened while Miss Drayton was speaking.
Indeed, smiles came naturally in the presence of that cheery little
lady. With a murmured "Thank you," the child slipped her hand in Miss
Drayton's and together they entered the dining-room.

While breakfast was being served, Pat Patterson gave and obtained a good
deal of information. He told Anne that he was from Washington, the
finest city in the world. He learned that she called Virginia home,
though she lived now in New York. Pat was going to spend a year in
France with his mother and Aunt Sarah. Uncle Carey, with whom Anne was
travelling, had told her nothing of his plans except that he and she
were going "abroad" and were to "have a grand time" on "the Continent."
Pat's father was to come over later for a few weeks; he was down south
now, helping build the "big ditch"--the Panama Canal. "Where is your
father?" he asked Anne.

"Dead."

"Oh!" with awkward sympathy.

"Long time ago, when I was little."

"Do you remember him?"

"If I shut my eyes tight. It's like he was walking to meet me, out of
the big picture."

"And your mother--" Pat hesitated.

"I remember her real well. I was seven then. That was over a year ago.
Sometimes it seems such a little while since we were at home--and then
it seems a long, long, long time."

"You've been living with your uncle since?" asked Miss Drayton, gently.

"Yes. Uncle Carey. Where is he? I do want Uncle Carey so bad." The
child's voice trembled.

"Don't worry, dear. We'll find him," said Miss Drayton, as they left the
dining-room.

The captain, who had kept his eyes on the little party, anticipated Miss
Drayton's questioning. Drawing her aside, he explained the situation.
"The scoundrel is