“Yes, later; but we are to visit some of our people in Ireland first.  Papa has a brother in Cork.  We intend to remain there a few days, then go on to Dublin, Liverpool, London, Paris, etc., etc.,” laughed the girl.

Chester’s heart sank.  The separation was coming sooner than he had thought.  Only a few more hours, and this little sun-kissed voyage would end.  He looked at the girl by him; that action was not under embargo.  Yes; she was uncommonly sweet that morning.  Perhaps it was the Irish blood in her quickening at the nearness of the land of her forefathers.  Cheeks and lips and ears were rosy red, and the breeze played with the somewhat disheveled hair.  There was a press of people along the rail which caused Lucy’s shoulders to snuggle closely to his side.  Chester was silent.

“Yes;” she went on, “there’s dear old Ireland.  You see, this is my second visit, and it’s like coming home.  You go on to Liverpool, I understand.”

“I have a ticket to Liverpool,” he said; “but I suppose they would let me off at Queenstown, wouldn’t they?”

“Why, certainly—­how fast we are nearing land.  I’ll have to go down now and awaken father.  We haven’t much time to get ready.”

He would have held her, had he dared.  She was gone, and there were a hundred and one questions to ask her.  She must not get away from him like this.  He must know where they were going—­get addresses by which to find them.  He had no plans but what could be easily changed.  Seeing Europe without Lucy Strong would be a dull, profitless excursion.  Chester’s thoughts ran along this line, when Lucy appeared again.  The color had left her face.

“Father is very sick,” she said to Chester.  “He seems in a stupor.  I can’t wake him.  Will you find the doctor?”

“I’ll get him,” he said.  “Don’t worry.  We’ll be down immediately.”

Chester and the doctor found Lucy rubbing her father’s hands and forehead, pleading softly for him to speak to her.  The doctor after a hurried examination, said there was nothing serious.  A nervous break-down of some kind only—­no organic trouble—­would be all right again shortly.

“But doctor, we get off at Queenstown,” explained Lucy.

“Well, I think you can manage it.  By the time you are ready to leave, he will be strong enough.  This young man seems able to carry him ashore, if need be.  Are you landing also,” he asked of Chester.

“Well—­yes.”

Lucy looked at the young man, but said nothing.  The doctor promised to bring some medicine, then left.

“But Mr. Lawrence—­” began Lucy.

“I’ll listen to no objections,” interrupted he.  “I couldn’t think for a moment of leaving you two in this condition.  You’re hardly able to lift a glass of water, and now you father’s ill also.  No; I am going with you, to be your body guard, your servant.  Listen!  I’m out to see the old world.  I should very much like to begin with Queenstown and Cork.”