"It wouldn't be so bad if it were only my trunk key," Amy had lamented, "but there's a key of my mother's on the chain, and several keys of little boxes--one or two of which I have with me; the others are at home. I am always losing keys." "You probably lost them after your trunk had been examined this morning. What a fuss about nothing it was! Why, the inspector didn't even lift the tray from my trunk. But we had all the trouble of unlocking and opening our trunks, and in that way I suppose the keys were lost." Priscilla spoke with more energy than was usual with her. When they reached the wharf, the dignified Custom-House official and the small boys congregated there and in the neighborhood of the train knew nothing about the keys. The inspector remembered seeing them. "I noticed your party particularly, and you were swinging your keys by a long silver chain. Well, they may have slipped through a crack somewhere, and so the best thing for you is to get a locksmith to fit a key before you go any farther." Overhearing this advice, one or two of the boys lounging about offered to guide the young ladies to a locksmith. Thus Amy and Priscilla, not in the best of spirits, with hats askew and shirt-waists somewhat rumpled, came face to face with Fritz Tomkins. "Oh, ho!" he cried mischievously, as the girls drew near. "What a procession! All you need is a drum and a flag." Turning her head, Amy saw six little boys walking behind her in Indian file. There wasn't much going on at the wharf, and evidently all had thought that there would be some fun in conducting the American young ladies to the locksmith's. Fritz himself, seated in the shade at a shop-door, looked aggravatingly comfortable. "Why, Fritz!" exclaimed Amy, "I thought you were miles and miles away,--at Pubnico." "Don't, don't show your disappointment too plainly. We thought that we'd better not start before the train was ready. That will not be for an hour yet. In the meantime, is there anything that I can do for you? You look a little like a lady in distress." "Well, then, appearances are deceitful." Amy had recovered from her astonishment at seeing Fritz. "I am sure that you are hunting for something." "Why are you so sure?" Amy was determined not to tell. "She _is_ looking for something, isn't she, Priscilla?" Fritz had seen more or less of Priscilla in Boston the past winter, and naturally called her by her first name. Priscilla shook her head,--not in dissent, but to show that she had no intention of disclosing more than Amy herself chose to explain. "Very well," continued Fritz, "I am a mind reader. I can tell you all about it. You are looking for a bunch of keys." "How did you know?" For once Amy was off guard. "Ah! Then it's true." "Very well, since you know so much, where are the keys?" Fritz, thrusting his hand in his pocket, drew out a long silver chain, which he swung around his head in a circle before laying it in Amy's hand. "There, little boys, you--"