We had no hard storm while steaming over the bright Mediterranean.  But one day the little man, whose name was Roland, said to wee Amy: 

“Clear day, isn’t it?”

And Amy replied, woman-fashion, “Yes, booful day, but what sood you do if there comed a big storm, and we all went ricketty, rockerty, and couldn’t stand up single minute?  Wouldn’t you be ’fraid?”

“N-o,” said Roland, speaking slowly and thoughtfully, “I don’t think I should be much afraid, but I should want to keep quiet and think.  What should you do?” and he smiled.

“Oh, me would say my prayers, and keep a-sayin’ them,” said the child, soberly, then she added, “and up would go my prayers into the sky, and so I needn’t be frightened a bit.”

Now I don’t know in the least what “prayers” mean, but I remembered at once what that other child had done in the storm, and it made me think that the Friend the other little girl trusted lives up in the sky, and can hear when Folks tell that they need help.  How lovely!  Really, Folks ought to be very thankful for all they know!

CHAPTER IX.

LORD DOLPHIN ON LAND

Well, we sailed and we sailed, but it was poor sailing for me, and every hour I longed to make a monster jump, clear the railing, and splash into the splendid bed beneath the cooped-up tank.

But Folks know how to make things strong and secure, and once or twice, when I tried leaping, it was only to bang my sides against the edges of the tank, and spatter the deck far and wide, making extra work for the sailors.

After a time, we ran through what Jack called “the Strait of Gibraltar,” and were in the great Atlantic Ocean, and one day Jack said to me: 

“Now then, me hearty, we’re making a bee-line for New York City, and it’s a big tub they’ll be giving you at the fine park, I’m thinking.”

So I knew I was to take the place of the crocodile, and be made a show of.

I tried to make the best of things.  Folks amused me by standing near the tank and talking about affairs.  The band played delightfully.  Salt water was freshly supplied me every day or two.  I learned that my fare was much greater than any other voyager’s on board, that is, it cost more to carry me.

But think of a passenger that would have been perfectly thankful to have been thrown overboard!  I was that same fellow.

After about ten days, which seemed like a year to me, there was great excitement all around.  Such a running and tramping, such a waving of hats and handkerchiefs.  Ah! we were landing.  Roland came to my side and exclaimed: 

“Good-by, Dolly, old boy!  I may see you sometime in your new quarters.”  Little Amy lisped a hurried, “By, by, Dolly, good Fishy!” and after an hour or two, all the passengers had left the boat except the man who owned me and myself.

Nor was I moved until the next day.  Then I was made to swim into a smaller tank, not much longer than I am, in which I could not have lived, it seemed to me, a single day.