"Thing! how dare you!" cried Tommy, pummelling her uncle's leg.

"I meant a thing of beauty, my dear," said he meekly, "which, as the poet says, is a joy for ever."

"He wouldn't think me a joy for long, I can tell you," returned Tommy.

"But, really, it's too ridiculous. Bess, you don't want to get married?"

"Not for a living, certainly," said Elizabeth.

"Of course not," added Mary.

"Well, that's squashed," cried Tommy, "and if you can't think of anything better, Captain Barton--why, you're not married yourself!"

"No, my dear, I've never tried," replied her uncle apologetically.

"Well, now, there's that notion I mentioned a while ago--a little cottage by the sea, you know; we four--me and the three Graces, eh?"

"It would be simply awful, Uncle," cried Tommy. "Whatever should we do all day? We should all become perfect cats, and you'd have a simply horrid time. No, if you want us to live with you, you must take a house somewhere where we could work--earn our salt, you know. I'm not going to be a burden to anybody."

"That's a fine spirit, to be sure. Then it must be London, I suppose, Deptford way or Rotherhithe; one of you could keep house for me, and the others could go to cla.s.ses, and learn teaching or whatever it is you want to do. What do you think of that, now?"

"I should love to keep house for you, Uncle," said Elizabeth.

"And Mary and I would love to do the other thing, wouldn't we, Mary?"

cried Tommy. "So it's settled, and you'd better advertise for a house at once, Uncle."

"Steady, my dear. As I told you, I must make one more voyage. I've a heap of things to settle up in various parts, and it'll be at least a year before I'm ready. The question is, what can you do for a year?

You can't remain here, and I'm not going to set you up in London without me to look after you."

"Why not? We'd look after each other," said Tommy.

"Couldn't think of it, my dear," said the Captain decisively. "It's a facer, that's the truth."

"I know what!" cried Tommy, suddenly starting up. "Take us with you!"

"What?" gasped her uncle.

"I mean it. Let's all go for a voyage. I'd love to go round the world."

"Nonsense! A parcel of girls in my windjammer with their frills and furbelows--I never heard of such a thing! Ridiculous! Entirely out of the question!"

"Why? I don't see it," persisted Tommy. "Now, Captain Barton, don't be a stick-in-the-mud, but give us reasons."

"My dear, it can't be done," said the Captain emphatically.

"Of course it can't, you haven't got any," said Tommy, wilfully misunderstanding him. "Just like a man!"

"We should really like it, Uncle," said Elizabeth.

"Can't be done, Bess," he repeated.

"But why, Uncle?" asked Mary.

"Because--because--well, for one thing I don't carry a stewardess."

"Oh, you funny old man! Bess could be stewardess. Another reason, please."

"There's no cabin fit for young ladies. It's a hard life on board, and----"

"No reason at all," interrupted Tommy. "We must learn to rough it, now that we've got to make our way in the world. Besides, sea-air is good; it will establish our const.i.tutions, as the doctors say. Say yes, Uncle, there's a dear!"

"Well, well, I'll sleep on it," said the Captain, temporizing. He was really much perplexed and troubled. The suggestion was a preposterous one, to his old-fashioned way of thinking; but he could not find reasons that would convince these very modern nieces of his, and he hoped that they would drop the wild notion before the morning.

But when the girls had gone to bed, and he sat alone, smoking his final pipe, he had to confess to himself that Tommy's proposal was the simplest solution of the difficulty. It would not be an easy matter to find comfortable quarters for the girls, but it was not impossible.

Their society would be very pleasant on board; he would love to have them with him: in short, he decided to give way. So the next morning, when they rushed at him as he entered the breakfast-room, with cries of "Uncle dear, do take us," he replied, with a mild reluctance--

"Well, well, you might do worse."

Whereupon Tommy kissed him and hugged him, calling him "Dear old Nunky," and went nearly wild with joy.

"But, mind you," he said warningly, "you mustn't expect much in the way of comfort. The _Elizabeth_ isn't the _Lusitania_, you know. She's as tight a little craft as ever sailed the seas, but she wasn't built for first-cla.s.s pa.s.sengers. You'll have to manage with a tiny cabin for all three. And I give you fair notice: I keep strict discipline aboard. The slightest insubordination will be punished."

"And how do you punish on board ship?" asked Tommy mischievously.

"First, bread and water for a week. For the second offence, you'll be laid in irons in the hold, where you'll have no company but the rats, and they're uncommon hungry beasts, I can tell you."

"How lovely! Just like the prisoners in wicked barons' castles in the olden times," cried Tommy. "Oh, you dear silly old thing, did you think you would frighten us?" And she gave him a hug that made him cry for mercy.

"Now, girls, to business," he said, when order was restored. "This is Wednesday. I must run up to London to-morrow to see my lawyers, so that if anything happens to me you won't be quite unprovided for.

Remember, Bess, they're Wilkins and Short, of Bedford Row. Not that there isn't plenty of life in the old sea-dog yet, and I hope you won't have to see them for many a day. Now, as to clothes; no fal-lals, you know; two serge dresses apiece, and one box for the lot of you. I don't suppose you bargained for that."

"We shouldn't think of bringing matinee hats," said Elizabeth, laughing.

"Anything you want to keep, out of the things here, you must pack up.

I dare say one of the neighbours will store it for you. I'll arrange about selling the rest. I'll see your landlord to-day. You will only have about a fortnight to get ready, so you'd better begin at once."

"Let's go and see Mrs. Morris," said Mary. "She'll keep our things for us."

"Won't she be surprised!" cried Tommy. "And what fun we shall have!"

The girls found their neighbour, Mrs. Morris, in the midst of her weekly baking. She declared afterwards that the surprise their news gave her nearly "turned" the bread. She readily agreed to store their little stock of personal possessions, but shook her head at the idea of girls wandering in heathen parts, as she put it.

Elizabeth asked her to accompany them to Plymouth and a.s.sist them in buying their outfit. This gave great delight to the kind motherly soul. She left her farm but seldom; a trip to Plymouth was a notable event in her life; and when she returned with the girls, after a happy day's shopping, the spirit of adventure had so worked upon her that she cried, "Well, now, I wish I was going too, that I do."

Imagine the bustle and excitement of the next few days! Uncle Ben was in London. In his absence the girls worked hard at their preparations.

They got a sewing-maid from the village, and all four worked early and late cutting out and making two sets of blouses, one for ordinary use, and the other for any very hot weather they might encounter on the voyage. Even Tommy, not usually an industrious young person in such matters, did her fair share, though it was a great trial of patience to have to finish the overcasting of all the seams before Elizabeth would lay them aside ready for packing.

Everything was complete before Uncle Ben's return. The girls had finished their outfit and packed it away neatly in their new cabin trunk. Their treasures were also packed ready to be handed into Mrs.

Morris's keeping. A few pieces of furniture which Elizabeth could not bear to part with had been warehoused at Plymouth. The remainder, together with the farm stock, was to be sold after their departure.

Tommy was very woebegone at the idea of selling her pony, and when Joe Morris offered to keep him for her, and give him his food in exchange for his services (that was his thoughtful and pleasant way of putting it), she hugged the burly farmer and called him a dear old man.