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"Well, now you have ferreted out who these young ladies are, I think we ought to introduce ourselves. This is my brother, Dwight Vanderhoff, of New York City, America, and I am his sister Elizabeth, generally shortened to Bess. We are going with our mother and uncle, Mr. Dwight Lawrence, for whom this youngster is named, to India, and intend to make an extended tour.
"Yet many who have never tramped under knapsack, blankets, and tent-cloth would say, 'That's nothing! and our poor voyager, who really had made a record, would be consigned to oblivion. In all art, even that of writing facts, one must exaggerate a little in order to make the effect life-size so to say." "That's true enough," said Mrs. Vanderhoff.
There has been a strangeness in the air for the past half hour, as the girls have remarked. Shall we go inside?" "Oh, not yet," said Mrs. Vanderhoff, "What a delicious little breeze!" She turned to catch it full in the face, and gasped as she pointed to the horizon.
The play on our names is bright enough, but I'll tell you, I'll tell you! It was that boy Dwight Vanderhoff. I just believe it! He is clever, I'm sure, and his uncle could help him." "As likely as not or Mr. Malcolm but no, I don't believe he would. He is full of fun, but dignified too, and he never forgets we are the captain's daughters. It must be that boy!
I saw her under a smokestack with that Russian no fit companion either. Had to leave his own country because of his record. She's a nice one to talk but that's the very kind. Now, see here! After this you girls keep close company, and stay in tow of Mrs. Vanderhoff, or Lady Moreham, and then you'll be all right. You'll mind now?" "Yes we will, father, but tell me something.
Lawrence, and at the same instant a voice proposed, "Mrs. Campbell for one!" But this suggestion was drowned in a shout of applause. "Yes, yes, let it be the twins the captain's daughters!" and so it was decided. Blushing and beautiful, the girls stood up opposite each other, and began calling up their teams. "Mrs. Vanderhoff," cried Hope. "Lady Moreham," said Faith. "Mrs. Poinsett." "Mrs.
"And, if you'll let me, I was going to say storm, or pestilence," continued Bess in a resigned tone. "Well, I stopped worrying over that when my sick man kindly refrained from developing smallpox, or ship fever," said Carnegie, sinking down upon a cushion between Bess and Faith. "I was anxious for a day or two, though, and so was our surgeon." "And he is quite well again?" asked Mrs. Vanderhoff.
Faith, industriously inclined, was at work on a piece of embroidery, Hope had the piratical book in her hand, but was leaning idly back, watching Mrs. Vanderhoff, who was playing with one of the little tots, and visiting in desultory fashion with Bess, who was trying a new stitch in crochet and interposed a count, or two, between syllables. The Windemere family, all with their work, except Mrs.
The twins, meanwhile, made their observations with the promptitude of youth. They liked Mrs. Vanderhoff, whose manner was quiet and sensible, in accord with her dress and appearance, and they also fancied Mrs. Poinsett, but the one called Lady Moreham they decided was disagreeable, and too proud of her rank to be sociable.
You know we are all dying to hear about him. Proceed!" "Dying?" put in Mrs. Vanderhoff. "How extravagantly you talk, my son." "Well, crazy, then." She laughed hopelessly. "Go on, pray," she said to her brother. "He simply leaps from the frying-pan into the fire." "De Camoens," he said, "was by no means without faults, but he was gifted, generous, forgiving, and brave.
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