Wretched as I was, I could not help gasping, "Are you enjoying your
sea trip?" and she replied sepulchraily, "It isn't what it's cracked
up to be." We could say no more. That time we groaned in unison.

She must have gathered strength of mind and body in the night, however,
for she was in her berth next morning when the stewardess came in
to know what we wanted for breakfast. We did not want anything, as
we quickly made reply. The wind went down that day; the next day was
warm and clear, with a sea like sapphire, and we dragged ourselves to
the deck. Recovery set in quickly enough then, so that we began to
"think scornful" of seasickness. Fortunately the good ship _Buford_
ploughed her way across the Pacific without meeting another swell,
and our pride was not humbled again. We ate quite sparingly for
a meal or two, and had fits of abstraction, gazing at the ceiling
when extra-odorous dishes were placed in front of us. The Radcliffe
girls said that they had passed a strenuous night, engaged in wild
manoeuvres to obtain possession of the monkey wrench and feloniously to
secrete the same. Their collegiate training had included instruction
on the hygienic virtues of fresh air, which made no allowance for a
sea trip; and their views as to the practical application of these
principles came sadly into conflict with the ideas of their bedroom
steward. There were frantic searchings for a monkey wrench all that
night, while the article lay snugly bestowed between the mattresses of
a maiden who looked as if she might be thinking of the angels. Also
their porthole was open in defiance of orders, and much water came
into their stateroom. But they did not care, for it brought fresh
air with it.

The first two or three days of the voyage were spent in taking stock