It was rather dilapidated, but it was there, and Elithe followed it to the boat and stayed below until she saw it placed by six immense Saratogas with “Clarice Percy, Washington, D. C.” marked upon them. Elithe had seen many handsome trunks during her journey, but the difference between them and her own had never struck her as it did now when Clarice Percy’s stared her in the face. How very insignificant hers looked beside them, she thought, wondering who Clarice Percy was, and why she had so much baggage. She had heard some one say they stopped once before landing at Oak City, and she was tempted to stay below and watch her property lest it be carried off. But it was too hot and close down there, and, going up to the crowded deck, she tried to find a seat sheltered from the sun, which was beating down upon the water with all the fervor of a sultry afternoon. Her first feeling, as the boat moved off, was one of relief. Her trunk was safe, and so was the little box which held the diamond, and which had troubled her nearly as much as her baggage. A dozen times a day her hand had gone into her pocket to see if it were there, and it did so now, as she took the seat a young man had just vacated and for which a woman made a rush. Elithe was before her, feeling, as she sat down, that she had never been so tired and faint in her life as she was now. Her head was throbbing with pain, and the lump in her throat, which always came when she thought of home, was increasing in size until she felt as if she were choking. The motion of the boat as they got further from the shore and struck the swell made her sick. There was a horrible nausea at her stomach and a blur before her eyes, while the people around her kept the air from her. “I wonder if I am going to faint or die. I wish some one would bring me some water,” she thought, looking in the faces of those nearest to her to see if she dared speak to them. They were strange and new, with something different in their expression from the home faces familiar to her. She could not appeal to them, and, removing her hat and leaning her head back against a post, she shut her eyes and sat as still and nearly as white as if she were dead. How long she sat thus she did not know. There was a partial blank in her consciousness. The hum of voices, the splash of the water and the thuds of the engine all mingled together in one great roar, which made her head ache harder. Then she must have slept for a few minutes, and when she woke it was to find a young man standing beside her and scanning her curiously. “Oh-h!” she said, with a start, and reached for her hat, which had fallen from her lap. The young man picked it up and handed it to her, saying: “Aren’t you Miss Elithe Hansford, from Samona?” “Yes, sir,” Elithe answered, timidly. “I thought so,” he continued, taking a seat beside her. “I’m Paul Ralston. I guess you have never heard of me.”