"Well, most of it, though we shall probably cruise about some," spoke
Bess, and as she paused the murmuring of the voices of Mrs. Kimball
and the lace peddler could be heard.

"She doesn't talk like an Armenian," ventured Belle. "She has a
Spanish accent."

"Yes, so she has," agreed Cora. "Oh, girls! You don't know how I
envy you that trip. But duty first, you know," and she sighed.

"We expect to have a perfectly gorgeous time," went on Belle, as she
settled her trim jacket more snugly over her slim hips. "One trip
papa has promised us is to Sea Horse Island, not far from Porto Rico.
He is going there after orchids--you know he is an enthusiastic
amateur collector--and he says some very rare ones grow on Sea Horse.
I wish I could send you some, Cora."

"It's awfully sweet of you, but--"

The girls were interrupted by the darkening of one of the low
windows, by a tall, slim shadow. In surprise they looked up to see
staring at them a girl whose swarthy, olive-tinted face proclaimed
her for a foreigner from some sunny clime.

In her hand she field a bundle of lace, which she had evidently taken
from her valise to show to Mrs. Kimball. Cora's mother had arisen
from a porch chair, in some wonder, to follow the girl's movements.

"Pardon Senoritas," began the lace seller, in soft accents, "but did
I hear one of you ladies mention Sea Horse Island--in ze West Indies?