We reached the Grand Central station on time and went to a nearby hotel. I should have sent the heavier baggage directly to the steamer, but I was not sure--absolutely sure--which steamer it was to be. The “Princess Eulalie” almost certainly, but I did not dare take the risk. Hephzy called to me from the room adjoining mine at twelve that night. “Just think, Hosy!” she cried, “this is the last night either of us will spend on dry land.” “Heavens! I hope it won't be as bad as that,” I retorted. “Holland is pretty wet, so they say, but we should be able to find some dry spots.” She did not laugh. “You know what I mean,” she observed. “To-morrow night at twelve o'clock we shall be far out on the vasty deep.” “We shall be on the 'Princess Eulalie,'” I answered. “Go to sleep.” Neither of us spoke the truth. At twelve the following night we were neither “far out on the vasty deep” nor on the “Princess Eulalie.” My first move after breakfast was to telephone Campbell at his city home. He hailed me joyfully and ordered me to stay where I was, that is, at the hotel. He would be there in an hour, he said. He was five minutes ahead of his promise. We shook hands heartily. “You are going to take my prescription, after all,” he crowed. “Didn't I tell you I was the only real doctor for sick authors? Bully for you! Wish I was going with you. Who is?” “Come to my room and I'll show you,” said I. “You may be surprised.” “See here! you haven't gone and dug up another fossilized bookworm like yourself, have you? If you have, I refuse--” “Come and see.” We took the elevator to the fourth floor and walked to my room. I opened the door. “Hephzy,” said I, “here is someone you know.” Hephzy, who had been looking out of the window of her room, hurried in. “Well, Mr. Campbell!” she exclaimed, holding out her hand, “how do you do? We got here all right, you see. But the way Hosy has been wastin' money, his and mine, buyin' things we didn't need, I began to think one spell we'd never get any further. Is it time to start for the steamer yet?” Jim's face was worth looking at. He shook Hephzibah's hand mechanically, but he did not speak. Instead he looked at her and at me. I didn't speak either; I was having a thoroughly good time. “Had we ought to start now?” repeated Hephzibah. “I'm all ready but puttin' on my things.” Jim came out of his trance. He dropped the hand and came to me. “Are you--is she--” he stammered. “Yes,” said I. “Miss Cahoon is going with me. I wrote you I had selected a good traveling companion. I have, haven't I?” “He would have it so, Mr. Campbell,” put in Hephzy. “I said no and kept on sayin' it, but he vowed and declared he wouldn't go unless I did. I know you must think it's queer my taggin' along, but it isn't any queerer to you than it is to me.”