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 any attention to them, and they passed the long hazy afternoon quite by themselves. The Old Province steamed onward well out at sea, with the coast a pale bluish line in the distance.

But as the afternoon closed they began to meet the tides that roll in brusquely upon the New England inlets. A gray fog swept about the Old Province, and what with a strong swell and a bluff wind that drove the mist thicker around them, the steamer took to rolling quite too much for comfort. Darkness came on. The saloon twinkled with its lights in pleasant contrast to the gloom outside. Gerald, before supper, found out that he was—for the first time in his life—a particularly bad sailor.

"I—I think I'd better go and lie down," he said, a good deal ashamed of his uneasiness. "I never was sick on our yacht, and I don't believe I shall be now; but my head feels pretty topsy-turvy."

So Philip got him into his berth. There was soon no occasion for Gerald to blush. Not a few of the other passengers promptly found out the rolling of the Old Province. They sought the seclusion which their cabins granted. The