“Good for her. She’s a brick! I wish, though, that we could clear up this business about the papers.” “So do I. Wasn’t it unfortunate?” “Yes. How is little Dodo coming on?” “Not very well, I’m afraid,” and Grace sighed. The injury to the child hung like a black shadow, over her. “The specialist is going to see her soon again. He has some hopes.” “That’s good; cheer up, Sis! Come on down town and I’ll blow you to a soda.” “‘Blow’—such slang!” “It’s no worse than ‘hike.’” “I suppose not. Wait until I fix my hair.” “Good night!” gasped Will. “I don’t want to wait an hour. I’m thirsty!” “I won’t be a minute.” “That’s what they all say.” But Grace was really not very long. In answer to a telephone message next day the three chums assembled at Betty’s house. “I think we will go for a little trip all by ourselves on the river this afternoon,” she said. “Every time so far Uncle Amos, or one of the boys, has been with us. We must learn to depend on ourselves.” “That is so,” agreed Mollie. “It will be lovely, it is such a nice day.” “Just a little trip,” went on Betty, “to see if we have forgotten anything of our instructions.” Just then a clock chimed out eight strokes, in four sections of two strokes each. “Eight o’clock!” exclaimed Amy. “Your timepiece must be wrong, Betty. It’s nearer noon than eight.” “That’s eight bells—twelve o’clock,” said the pretty hostess, with a laugh. “That’s a new marine clock Uncle Amos gave me for the _Gem_. It keeps time just as it is done on shipboard.” “And when it’s eight o’clock it’s twelve,” murmured Grace. “Do you have to do subtraction and addition every time the clock strikes?” “No, you see, eight bells is the highest number. It is eight bells at eight o’clock, at four o’clock and at twelve—either at night, or in the daytime.” “Oh, I’m sure I’ll never learn that,” sighed Amy. “It is very simple,” explained Betty, “Now it is eight bells—twelve o’clock noon. At half-past twelve it will be one bell. Then half an hour later, it will be two bells—one o’clock. You see, every half hour is rung.” “Worse and worse!” protested Mollie. “What time is it at two o’clock?” “Four bells,” answered Betty, promptly. “Why, I thought four bells was four o’clock,” spoke Grace. “No, eight bells is four o’clock in the after-noon, and also four o’clock in the morning. Then it starts over again with one bell, which would be half-past four; two bells, five; three hells, half-past five, and——” “Oh, stop! stop! you make my head ache!” cried Grace, “Has anyone a chocolate cream?” They all laughed. “You’ll soon understand it,” said Betty. “It’s worse than remembering to turn the steering wheel the opposite way you want to go,” objected Mollie. “But we are young—we may learn in time.” The _Gem_ was all ready to start, and the girls, reaching Mollie’s house, in the rear of which, at a river dock, the boat was tied, went aboard. “Have you enough gasoline?” asked Amy, as she helped Betty loosen the mooring ropes.