s and the name of the caretaker, both of which I had on a piece of
paper with loose "i's" and "j's" scattered thickly through every word.
All we had to do, therefore, was to tell our moth-eaten cabman to drive
to the place, show the letters from the solicitor (and perhaps a copy of
Captain Noble's will), claim our property from the hands of Jan Paasma,
and then, if we liked, take up our quarters on our own boat until we
could engage some one to "work it" for our tour. Luckily, we'd had
coffee and rolls on board the "Batavier"; so we needn't bother about
breakfast, as I said joyously to Phil.

But Phil, it seemed, did not regard breakfast as a bother. She thought
it would be fatal to throw ourselves into a formidable undertaking
unless we first had tea and an egg, and somebody to advise us.

"We must go to an hotel before we see the boat," said she, firmly.

"But who's to give us advice at a hotel?" I asked with scorn.

"Oh, I don't know. The manager."

"Managers of hotels aren't engaged to advise young women about
motor-boats."

"Well, then, a--a waiter."

"A _waiter_!"

"We could ask the head one. And, anyway, he would be a _man_."

"My darling child, have we ever depended on a man since your father
died?"

"We've never had emergencies, except taking our flat--oh, and buying my
type-writer. Besides, I can't bear all I shall have to bear without a
cup of tea."

This settled it. We climbed into that frail shell, our chosen cab, and I
opened the Dutch phrase-book which I bought in London. I wanted to find
out what hotel was nearest to the lair of our boat, but in that wild
moment I could discover nothing more appropriate than "I wish
immediately some medicine for seasickness," and (hastily turning over
the pages) "I have lost my pet cat." I began mechanically to stammer
French and the few words of German which for years have lain peacefully
buried in the dustiest folds of my intellect.

"Oh, dear, how _shall_ I make him understand what we want?" I groaned,
my nerves quivering under the pitying eye of the cabman, and the
early-Christian-martyr expression of Phyllis.

"Don't ask _me_," said she, in icy vengefulness; "you _would_ bring me
to Holland, and I shouldn't speak Dutch if I could."

"I spik Eengleesh," announced the cabman.

I could have fallen upon his bosom, which, though littered with dust and
grease-spots, I was sure concealed a noble heart. But I contented
myself with taking him into my confi