what right had that
hindering old thing to expect us--us--to buy his papers for him? Why
didn't he give us the money, himself? Seems if we'd been sort of--sort
of goosies, doesn't it?"

"Oh! Molly! That's not nice of you to think about that dear, lame old
man! And why he didn't was, I suppose, because he didn't think. We don't
always think ourselves, dearie. Never mind. I'll hurry and be right
back."

"Yes, do--do hurry! I've said so much about you in my letters I'm just
suffering to have you two meet. Just suffering! Hark! They're whistling
and ringing the bell and we'll be there in a minute! Do, do hurry--for I
believe I see him now--that tall one at the end of the wharf--Hurry--or,
better still--Wait! Wait!"

But long before the excited Molly had finished speaking Dorothy had run
up the stairs, along the long passage to the aft deck where she had left
her lame acquaintance waiting for her to do his simple errand.

He was not in the spot where she had left him. He was not in the big
saloon, or parlor. He was not upon the forward deck; not yet amid the
crowd pressed to the deck's rail, to watch for whatever might be seen at
this historic landing place. Flying to the rail she scanned the few
departing passengers and he was not among them. She saw, but scarcely
realized that she did, a group of three cadets who had come as near the
steamer as the wharf permitted and were gaily chattering with her chum,
during the short stop that was made.

"Could he have fallen overboard? And if he did why did he take our
purses with him?" she wondered. Then reflected that it would be a
difficult thing to explain this affair to Miss Greatorex; and also that
the missing pocket-books contained a full month's "allowance" for both
Molly and herself.

CHAPTER II

A RACE AND ITS ENDING

Dorothy's search for the missing old man and, to her, the more important
missing purses brought her to the lower deck and Molly. The latter was
still leaning upon the rail, gazing a little sadly into the water, for
the brief glimpse she had had of her cousin Tom had recalled their happy
days in their old southern home. There were even a few tears in her
bright blue eyes as she raised them toward her friend; but she checked
them at once, frightened by the expression of Dorothy's own.

"Why, honey, what's the matter?"

"Our pocket-books are lost!"

"Lost? Lost! They can't be. You mustn't say so. We can't, we daren't
lose them. Weren't they