e fault was ours in not writing to him sooner."

"He barely had time to get the letter," said Chester.

"I suppose so. But it doesn't matter. We should only have just stopped
off at Kildare Villa to say goodbye, any way."

"It's a pity we don't stop at Queenstown. He could have come out on the
tender."

"Perhaps he would, and then perhaps he wouldn't. It would depend on just
how he felt--halloo, Lucy--you up already?"

"I couldn't lay abed longer this beautiful morning," exclaimed Lucy as
she came up to them. "Isn't this glorious! Is Wales below the sea yet?"

"No; there's a tip left. See, there, just above the water."

"Goodbye, dear old Europe," said Lucy, as she waved her handkerchief.
"I've always loved you--I love you now more than ever."

Father and son looked and smiled knowingly at her. Then they all went
down to breakfast.

Just about that same time of day, Thomas Strong's delayed letter
reached his brother in Cork. Uncle Gilbert read the letter while he ate
his breakfast, and Aunt Sarah wondered what could be so disturbing in
its contents; for he would not finish his meal.

"What is it, Gilbert?" she asked.

"Thomas, Lucy, and that young fellow, Chester Lawrence are going
to--yes, have already sailed from Liverpool with Captain Brown."

"And they're not coming to see us before they leave?"

"Didn't I say, they're already on the water--or should be--off to New
York with Captain Brown--and he doesn't touch at Queenstown, and in that
boat--"

Uncle Gilbert wiped his forehead.

"I'm sorry that they did not call," commented Aunt Sarah complacently;
"but I suppose they were in a hurry, and Captain Brown will take care of
them."

"In a hurry! No. Captain Brown--" but the remark was lost to his wife.
He cut short his eating, hurried to town, and, in faint hopes that it
might be in time, sent a telegram to his brother in Liverpool which
read:

"Don't sail with Captain Brown. Will explain later."

This telegram was delivered to Captain Brown's housekeeper, who sent it
to the steamship company's office, where it was safely pigeon-holed.

The morning passed at Kildare Villa. The telegram brought no reply. In
foolish desperation, hoping against hope, Uncle Gilbert took the first
fast train northward, crossed by mail steamer to Holyhead, thence on to
Liverpool, where he arrived too late. The boat had sailed. He went to
the steamship company's office in Water Street, and passed, without
asking leave,