“Ought I to go to her?” asked Jenny, waking from her happy reverie to a sudden sense of duty as the gentleman sat down beside her.

“Oh dear, no, she is all right.  Those are the Sibleys of New York.  Her father knows them, and she will find them a congenial refuge when she tires of us quiet folk; and you too, perhaps?” added the Professor as he glanced at the girl.

“I think not.  I should not be welcome to them, nor are they the sort of people I like.  I shall be very happy with the ‘quiet folk,’ if they won’t let me be in the way,” answered Jenny, in the cheerful voice that reminded one of the chirp of a robin.

“We won’t; we’ll toss you overboard as soon as you begin to scream and bounce in that style,” he answered, laughing at the idea of this demure young person’s ever dreaming of such a thing.  Jenny laughed also, and ran to pick up Mrs. Homer’s ball, as it set out for a roll into the lee-scuppers.  As she brought it back she found the Professor examining the book she left behind her.

“Like all young travellers you cling to your ‘Baedeker,’ I see, even in the first excitement of the start.  He is a useful fellow, but I know my Europe so well now, I don’t need him.”

“I thought it would be wise to read up our route a little, then I needn’t ask questions.  They must be very tiresome to people who know all about it,” said Jenny, regarding him with an expression of deep respect for she considered him a sort of walking encyclopaedia of universal knowledge.

It pleased the learned man, who was kindly as well as wise, and loved to let his knowledge overflow into any thirsty mind, however small the cup might be.  He liked the intelligent face before him, and a timid question or two set him off on his favorite hobby at a pleasant amble, with Jenny on the pillion behind, as it were.  She enjoyed it immensely, and was deep in French history, when the lunch gong recalled her from Francis I. and his sister Margaret to chops and English ale.

Ethel came prancing back to her own party, full of praises of the Sibleys, and the fun they meant to have together.

“They are going to the Langham; so we shall be able to go about with them, and they know all the best shops, and some lords and ladies, and expect to be in Paris when we are, and that will be a great help with our dresses and things.”

“But we are not going to shop and have new dresses till we are on our way home, you know.  Now we haven’t time for such things, and can’t trouble the Homers with more trunks,” answered Jenny, as they followed their elders to the table.

“I shall buy what I like, and have ten trunks if it suits me.  I’m not going to poke round over old books and ruins, and live in a travelling-dress all the time.  You can do as you like; it’s different with me, and I know what is proper.”

With which naughty speech Ethel took her seat first at the table, and began to nod and smile at the Sibleys opposite.  Jenny set her lips and made no answer, but ate her lunch with what appetite she could, trying to forget her troubles in listening to the chat going on around her.