thy suspect nobody. I can't say as much for
Mrs. Bruce and the rest. The money was there--the money is gone. We're
all in the same boat--literally, you know. There wasn't a peddler here
that day, nobody around but just ourselves. You and Jim are out of it,
course, because you were away; but--it might be me, it might be Mabel,
it might be Metty--Ephraim--Chloe--no not her, for she wasn't out of
Mrs. Bruce's sight--and it might be your own sister Aurora."

"What's that? How dare you?" angrily demanded Gerald.

But Melvin smiled, a little sadly, indeed, and shrugged his shoulders.

"Not so fast, Gerry. I'm not accusing her, nobody is accusing anybody.
But the money's gone, and maybe it's just as well so much of it went
for you."

"For me? What do you mean by that?"

"Cap'n Jack reckoned you'd cost the exchequer about fifty dollars.
Dorothy had the very choicest things, poultry, cream, fruit and
things, besides the doctor's bills. And the farmers down here aren't
so low in their charges as nearer Jimpson's. Mrs. Bruce got furious
against them, they took advantage so. But the doctor said you were a
very sick boy, for only measles, and must be built up, so good-hearted
little Dolly dipped into the marsh-mallow box for you. You----"

"Hush! Don't say another word! I'm so mad I can't breathe. I wish I'd
never come on this cruise. Cruise? It's nothing better 'n being buried
alive. Thought we might get some fun out of it, hunting for that
'buried treasure' and now, up pops that old stick-in-the-mud and
claims the whole business. Pshaw! I'll go home if I have to walk
there."

"How? You couldn't. But I'll tell you what you could do. Hunt up Elsa
and the monks. I want to see if this harness I've made out of a
fur-rug they destroyed will fit either. Dolly proposes to make them
some clothes and get up a little 'show.' Thinks she and Elsa could
exhibit them for pennies, when the people come to sell stuff, and that
would help pay for it."

Gerald considered. Many troubled thoughts passed through his mind, but
the strongest feeling was anger. He had been so self-sufficient until
this "beastly trip." Now he was learning the sometimes bitter lesson
that nobody in the world can be actually independent. He had begun by
lording it over his mates, and even his hostesses, and now here he
was dependent upon them for the very food he ate and the medicine he
had taken. He ceased to feel himself an invited guest but rather a
burden and a