spite, and because she wanted to vex me; I know it was."

"Well, dear, she's gone now, and you won't be worried with her again,"
said her mother, soothingly. "Don't pout so, Lilly, and wrinkle up your
forehead. It's very unbecoming."

"Yes, she's gone," snapped Lilly; "and as she's bound for the East, and
we for the West, we are not likely to meet again, for which I am
devoutly thankful."




CHAPTER VIII.

ON THE TRACK OF ULYSSES.


"We are going to follow the track of Ulysses," said Katy, with her eyes
fixed on the little travelling-map in her guide-book. "Do you realize
that, Polly dear? He and his companions sailed these very seas before
us, and we shall see the sights they saw,--Circe's Cape and the Isles of
the Sirens, and Polyphemus himself, perhaps, who knows?"

The "Marco Polo" had just cast off her moorings, and was slowly steaming
out of the crowded port of Genoa into the heart of a still rosy sunset.
The water was perfectly smooth; no motion could be felt but the engine's
throb. The trembling foam of the long wake showed glancing points of
phosphorescence here and there, while low on the eastern sky a great
silver planet burned like a signal lamp.