Rover," a lovely retriever; he was quite
of the family, fairly worshipped by his little master, and the pet of
the whole ship. He looked upon baby Lily as his own special property,
and no stranger dare approach if he were guarding her.

On the afternoon my story opens baby Lily had been very cross and
fretful; the intense heat evidently did not agree with her. Poor little
Mrs. West was quite worn out with walking up and down with her trying to
lull her off to sleep. Jack was lying flat on the floor, engrossed in
the beauties of a large picture-book; two or three times he raised his
curly head and shook it gravely. Then he said, "Isn't she a naughty
baby, mummie?"

"Yes, dear," answered his mother, "and I'm afraid that if she doesn't
soon get good, we shall have to put her right through the porthole. We
don't want to take a naughty baby-girl to daddy, do we?"

"No, mummie," answered Jack very earnestly, and he returned once more to
his pictures.

"There, she has gone off," whispered Mrs. West, after a few moments.
"Now, Jackie, I am going to put her down, and you must look after her
while I go and see if the stewardess has boiled the milk for the night.
Play very quietly, like a good little boy, because I don't think she is
very sound asleep." And, with a parting kiss on his little uplifted
face, she slipped away.

The stewardess was nowhere to be found; so Mrs. West boiled the milk
herself, as she had often done before, and after about ten minutes,
returned to her cabin.

Little Jack was in a corner, busy with a drawing-slate; he turned round
as his mother came in. The berth where she had put the baby down was
empty.

"Was baby naughty? Has the stewardess taken her?" she asked.

"No, mummie; baby woke up d'rectly you went, an' she was so dreff'ly
naughty--she just _wouldn't_ go to sleep again; so I thought I'd better
punish her, an' I put her, just this minute, through the porthole, like
you said; but I dessay she'll be good now, and p'raps you'd
better----but what's the matter, mummie? Are you going to be seasick?"
for his mother had turned deathly white, and was holding on to the wall
for support.

"My baby, my little one!" she gasped; then, pulling herself together
with a sudden effort, she rushed towards the stairs; little Jack,
bewildered, but suddenly overcome by a strange feeling of awe, following
in the rear. As she reached the deck, she became aware that the liner
had stopped; there was a great comm