e literal, her baggage says Drogheda. Ireland is
Ireland to me."

"Where is she bound for?"

"Kusiak."

The young woman passed them with a little nod of morning greeting to the
purser. Fine and dainty though she was, Miss O'Neill gave an impression
of radiant strength.

"Been with you all the way up the river?" asked Elliot after she had
passed.

"Yep. She came up on the Skagit from Seattle."

"What is she going to do at Kusiak?"

Again the purser grinned. "What do they all do--the good-looking ones?"

"Get married, you mean?"

"Surest thing you know. Girls coming up ask me what to bring by way of
outfit. I used to make out a long list. Now I tell them to bring clothes
enough for six weeks and their favorite wedding march."

"Is this girl engaged?"

"Can't prove it by me," said the officer lightly. "But she'll never get
out of Alaska a spinster--not that girl. She may be going in to teach,
or to run a millinery store, or to keep books for a trading company.
She'll stay to bring up kiddies of her own. They all do."

Three children came up the stairway, caught sight of Miss O'Neill, and
raced pell-mell across the deck to her.

The young woman's face was transformed. It was bubbling with tenderness,
with gay and happy laughter. Flinging her arms wide, she waited for
them. With incoherent cries of delight they flung themselves upon her.
Her arms enveloped all three as she stooped for their hugs and kisses.

The two oldest were girls. The youngest was a fat, cuddly little boy
with dimples in his soft cheeks.

"I dwessed myself, Aunt Sheba. Didn't I, Gwen?"

"Not all by yourself, Billie?" inquired the Irish girl, registering a
proper amazement.

He nodded his head slowly and solemnly up and down. "Honeth to
goodness."

Sheba stooped and held him off to admire. "All by yourself--just think
of that."

"We helped just the teeniest bit on the buttons," confessed Janet, the
oldest of the small family.

"And I tied his shoes," added Gwendolen, "after he had laced them."

"Billie will be such a big man Daddie won't know him." And Sheba gave
him another hug.

Gwendolen snuggled close to Miss O'Neill. "You always smell so sweet and
clean and violety, Aunt Sheba," she whispered in confidence.

"You're spoiling me, Gwen," laughed the young woman. "You've kissed the
blarney stone. It's a good thing you're leaving the boat to-day."

Miss Gwen had one more confidence to make in the ear of her friend.
"I wis