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“Dear me!” exclaimed Roy’s mother. “You don’t expect to fall overboard do you?”

“No, Mrs. Porter, but you never can tell what will happen,” replied Chub, wisely. “Those are shells for the shot-gun and that’s my fly-book. I should think we might find some good fishing, eh? Here’s a ‘first aid’ case. Mother insisted on my bringing that. I don’t know what’s in it, but I suppose there’s no harm having it along. Here are some curtains; I used to have them in my room until they got faded. I thought maybe we’d find a place for them. And this is an extra blanket. I just put it in so that the bottom of the trunk would be soft. And a hair pillow; it’s rather soiled, but that’s just shoe-dressing I spilled on it once. The laundress couldn’t get it all out. And I guess that’s all except this thermometer. Oh, the mischief! The plaguey thing’s broken! Throw it away. It was just a cheap one, anyhow. There, that’s the lot. What do you say?”

“I don’t know how we’d have got along without those things, Chub,” said Roy, very, very earnestly. “How we could have expected to go on a cruise without a foot-ball and a hair pillow and a collapsible bucket—”