“I may, some day,” murmured Betty. “But hurry along, Grace. It looks as though it might storm. We’ll save some of the candy for you.” “You’d better!” The chocolates came before Grace was ready to start after the papers, for she discovered a rent in her skirt and it had to be mended. Then, too, Prince proved a little more restive than had been anticipated, from not having been out in two days, and the groom suggested that he take the animal up and down the road on a sharp gallop to give the excess spirit a chance to be worked off. So Grace saw to it that she had at least part of her share of chocolates before she left. “And I have just time to hear the rest about the grand surprise,” she said to Betty, who had been turning and creasing in her hand the letter her uncle had written. “I’m afraid I can’t go as much into detail as I thought I could,” confessed Betty. “But I’ll read you the letter my old sea-captain uncle sent me. It begins: ‘In port; longitude whatever you like, and latitude an ice cream soda.’ Then he goes on: “‘Dear messmate. Years ago, when you first signed papers to voyage through life, when you weren’t rated as an A. B., you used to have me spill sea-yarns for you. And you always said you were going to be a sailor, shiver my timbers, or something like that,—real sailor-like, so it sounded. “‘I never forgot this, and I always counted on taking you on a voyage with me. But your captain—that is to say your father—never would let me, and often the barometer went away down between him and me. “‘Howsomever, I haven’t forgotten how you liked the water, nor how much you wanted a big ship of your own. You used to make me promise that if ever I could tow the _Flying Dutchman_ into port that you could have it for a toy. And I promised. “‘Well, now I have the chance to get the _Flying Dutchman_ for you, and I’m bringing it home, with sails furled so it won’t get away. I’m going to give you a grand surprise soon, and you can pass it on to your friends. So if you let me luff along for a few more cable lengths I think I’ll make port soon, and then we’ll see what sort of a sailor you’ll make. You may expect the surprise shortly.’ “That’s all there is to it,” concluded Betty, “and I’ve been puzzling my brains as to just what the surprise may be.” “He’s going to take you on a voyage,” said Amy. “He’s bought you some toy ship,” was the opinion of Mollie. “Oh, if he’d only bring a real boat that we could make real a trip in!” sighed Grace. “That would be—lovely!” “Betty Nelson! Write to your uncle right away!” commanded Mollie, “and find out exactly what he means.” “I can’t,” sighed Betty. “He’s traveling, and one never knows where he is. We’ll just have to wait. Besides, he is so peculiar that he’d just as likely as not only puzzle me the more. We’ll just have to wait; that’s all.” “Well, if it should be some sort of a boat, even a big rowboat, we could have some fun,” asserted Grace.