My conscience reproached me more about Rupert and Henrietta. Not one
of us had longed for "events" and exploits so earnestly as my sister;
and who but Rupert had prepared me for emergencies, not perhaps such
as the captain had had to cope with, but of the kinds recognized by
the yellow leather book? We had been very happy together--Rupert,
Henrietta, Baby Cecil, and I--and we had felt in common the one defect
of our lives that there were no events in them; and now I was going to
begin a life of adventure, to run away and seek my fortune, without
even telling them what I was going to do.

On the other hand, that old mean twinge of jealousy was one of my
strongest impulses to adventure-seeking, and it urged me to perform my
exploits alone. Some people seem to like dangers and adventures whilst
the dangers are going on; Henrietta always seemed to think that the
pleasantest part; but I confess that I think one of the best parts
must be when they are over and you are enjoying the credit of them.
When the captain's adventures stirred me most I looked forward with a
thrill of anticipation to my return home--modest from a justifiable
pride in my achievements, and so covered with renown by my deeds of
daring that I should play second fiddle in the family no more, and
that Rupert and Henrietta would outbid each other for my "particular"
friendship, and Baby Cecil dog my heels to hear the stories of my
adventures.

The thought of Baby Cecil was the heaviest pang I felt when I was
dissatisfied with the idea of running away from home. Baby Cecil was
the pet of the house. He had been born after my father's death, and
from the day he was born everybody conspired to make much of him.
Dandy, the Scotch terrier, would renounce a romping ramble with us to
keep watch over Baby Cecil when he was really a baby, and was only