at the end of all his letters; and he
wants me to go to the prison to see him."

"Why, you _couldn't_ see him."

"No," replied Emily, not understanding that Dotty referred to her
blindness; "no, I couldn't see him. The superintendent Wouldn't let me
go; he says it's no place for little girls."

"I shouldn't think it was," said Dotty, looking around for Flyaway, who
was riding in a lady's chair made by two admiring little girls.

"There was one thing I didn't tell," said Emily, who felt obliged to pour
her whole history into her new friend's ears; "I was sick last spring,
and had a fever. If it had been scarlet fever I should have died; but it
was _imitation_ of scarlet fever, and I got well."

"I'm glad you got well," said Dotty, rather tired of Emily's troubles;
"but don't you want to play with the other girls? I do."

"Yes; let us play Rollo on the Ocean," cried Octavia, who was Emily's
bosom friend, and was seldom away from her long at a time, but had just
now been devoting herself to Katie. "Here is the ship. All aboard!"

CHAPTER III.

PLAYING SHIP.

Now this ship was an old wagon-body, and had never been in water deeper
than a mud puddle. A dozen little girls climbed in with great bustle and
confusion, pretending they were walking a plank and climbing up some
steps. After they were fairly on board they waved their handkerchiefs for
a good by to their friends on shore. Then Octavia fired peas out of a
little popgun twice, and this was meant as a long farewell to the land.
Now they were fairly out on the ocean, and began to rock back and forth,
as if tossed by a heavy sea.

"See how the waves rise!" said Emily, and threw up her hands with an
undulating motion. "I can see them," she cried, an intent look coming
into her closed eyes; "they are green, with white bubbles like soap suds.
And the sun shines on them so! O, 'tis as beautiful as flowers!"

"Booful as flowers!" echoed Flyaway, who was one of the passengers; while
Dotty wondered how Octavia knew the difference between green and white.
She did not know; and what sort of a picture she painted in her mind of
the mysterious sea I am sure I cannot tell.

"Now," said Miriam Lake, the prettiest of the children, "it is time to
strike the bells."

So she struck a tea-bell with a stick eight times.

"That is eight bells," explained she to Dotty, "and it means four
o'clock. But, Jennie Holiday, where is the kitten? Why, we are not
half ready."