"Fancy needing to be told! As if that weren't the only reason why Mother smiled on Mrs. Ess Kay in the beginning. It was because she thought Miss Woodburn might do for Stanforth, who _must_ marry money, and is too poor, horribly poor, to be much of a catch with most English heiresses, who aren't as keen on titles as they used to be, unless there's some solid foundation for them to stand on, and not wobble. Everyone says Miss Woodburn's a great heiress, and though she's a few years older than Stan, she's a lady, a charming creature, and not bad looking. Mother thought all that out, the day they were introduced to her at the Northminster's concert, so she invited them here. But Stan and the Woodburn wouldn't _look_ at each other. It was useless even for Mother's genius to attempt the impossible, so she resigned herself to the inevitable, and gave the thing up. She meant to drop the Americans gently--which she could easily do as they were going home soon--when this new idea popped up. It's really important for me, dear. I do want you to see that. It will be so much better all around if you are out of the way, anyhow until I'm safely engaged, and the wedding-day fixed. Then, you know, if you haven't meanwhile picked up an American millionaire on the other side--don't look so horrified!--Mother will be able to devote herself to you, heart and soul, as she has to me. Next spring you can be presented----" "Don't bribe," I said, feeling as if I wanted to cry. "If you want to get rid of me, I'll go without that. But I should have thought I might be sent again to Aunt Sophy's." "Not again till our magnificent cousin's safely married. She wouldn't have you there. Remember how she sent you home, last time. Poor Loveland! He too, must think about collecting honest gold (somebody else's), to brighten up his coronet. We're a poverty-stricken lot, my child, and it's for me, with your help, to retrieve the fallen fortunes of this branch of the family." "That's settled then," said I, as drily as I could with wet tears in the background. "And now, let's go to bed, please. I'm sleepy." I wasn't; but my eyes were hot, and there was a lump in my throat. I was homesick--dreadfully homesick, for something--I don't know what, but it seemed to be something I've never had yet and probably never can have. That is why I wanted to be alone, and write everything down exactly as it has happened. II ABOUT CROSSING THE WATER Only ten days have passed, but I feel as if they were a hundred, I have lived so much. I've heard people near me in deck-chairs saying that it's been a "dull voyage," but whatever else it has been for _me,_ it hasn't been dull.