“I also told her that the Governor would accompany us, and that I hoped she would have a worthy Nantucket dinner ready for him,” he added, smiling at the intent group before him. “A change of cooking may tempt your appetite, my friend, and that is what we want to happen just now. Ricky, supper will be served in the saloon in twenty minutes. Better go to your cabin and wash your hands. I’ll show you where you are to bunk tonight. Lis is to share my quarters. By the way,” he added, his smile broadening, “I fancy, from something Sun Li told me before you arrived that you will find a chest in your cabin, with some things in it that may interest you. Only don’t lose track of time, you flighty child, and keep us waiting.” Erica sprang eagerly to her feet, and flashed the invalid a glance of ecstatic delight. “You—you’re the most _wonderful_ person, godfather,” she cried, clasping her hands over her heart with a gesture that set them all laughing. “Aunt Charity never would let me wear the beautiful gifts you sent me—not till I’m grown up. But while you’re here, I guess I can dress up all I want to. That’s only polite to Sun Li, father, isn’t it?” she questioned, anxiously, and went off to explore, much relieved, when Captain Eric nodded indulgent acquiescence. The minute she was inside the tiny cabin that had been allotted to her, Erica saw that it must have been planned for her when Sun Li had refitted the _Sea Gull_ for the present voyage, way on the other side of the world. The walls were hung with palest peach-blossom silk, heavily embroidered with wistaria and tender green leaves. The built-in bunk had been upholstered in cream and gold satin, and was heaped with pillows of all colors of the rainbow, most of them shaped like flowers. The carpet on the floor was pale gold, with cherry blossoms running riot across it, and there were two marvelous hanging lamps of silver and jade that matched the pattern of the key Sun Li had sent her by Lis months ago. Erica stood in the middle of the room, and drew a breath of sheer unbelief and protest. She _must_ be asleep. She was dreaming of some scene in the _Arabian Nights_, not standing in a cabin on her father’s ship anchored in Nantucket Harbor. Only—only, if it were actually a dream, that meant she would have to wake up. She experienced an impulse to tiptoe softly, to avert such a catastrophe, and then her attention was switched rapidly to a fresh surprise, as her eye fell for the first time on a small oblong chest of carved teakwood, bound in hammered silver, that stood at the foot of the white-and-gold bunk. It was about two and a half feet long by a foot wide, and two feet high, and sticking out of its beaten silver padlock was a key so evidently the twin of the one she wore about her neck, that Erica gave a funny little squeak of astonishment and fell on her knees beside it, worshipfully.