"
"From Sycamore, near Lake Kissimmee."
"Well, Mr. Pertell did mention that we might get to the lake, but he
didn't specify Sycamore."
"No, and now I'm going to try and do as you said, and forget all about
it," and Ruth laid aside the paper and resumed putting up her hair for
the night.
"I wonder what will happen to-morrow?" mused Alice, as she slipped into
her robe, and thrust her feet into bath slippers.
"What do you mean?" Ruth's voice was rather muffled, for her hair was
over her face now.
"I mean Mr. Towne fell in to-day, and--"
"Gracious, I hope you don't infer that it's someone else's turn
to-morrow!"
"Hardly!" laughed Alice. "Hand me that cold cream, please, the salt air
has chapped my face. Oh, say, did you notice how much color Laura had on
to-day? If ever there was a 'hand-made' complexion hers was!"
"You shouldn't say such things!"
"Why not? When they're true! And such eyes as she made at poor Mr.
Towne!"
Ruth slipped a rosy palm over her sister's lips, but Alice pulled it
away, and laughingly added:
"She found that her glances failed to reach Paul, and so she's trying her
'wireless' on--"
"Alice, you _must_ stop. Someone may hear you!"
"Can't! Daddy has the stateroom on one side, and Mr. Pertell the other,
and they're both sound sleepers.
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