she had only conceived of a literary one.
If they had not been in such great trouble over Frieda, how thrilling this meeting would have seemed! Yet, except for their sorrow, they might never have spoken to the Princess. And now here she was standing right in their midst talking just like any one else!
A moment later and she had vanished with these parting words:
"Promise me not to be too unhappy while I am gone. And perhaps when I return we may have devised some better scheme for finding your little Frieda."
CHAPTER II
SALVE!
FOR several moments after the Princess' withdrawal no one moved or spoke in Ruth Drew's stateroom. Ruth was lying on her berth, almost in a state of prostration, with Jean kneeling on the floor by her, resting her head upon the same pillow. On the divan Olive and Jack sat close together, Olive trying her best to think of some new consolation to offer her friend. For although the four Ranch girls loved one another with almost equal affection, after all Jack and Frieda were own sisters.
For the past year the girls and Ruth had been planning this trip to Europe. When the school year at Miss Winthrop's had closed and Jack had concluded her trying experience at the New York hospital, the girls, escorted by Jim Colter, had gone home to the Rainbow Ranch. In the autumn they then intended to join Ruth again in the east and set sail. However, when the fall came around, Jack was not so well, affairs at the mine were in a kind of a tangle and Olive's grandmother desired her to spend another school term at Primrose Hall. So the European journey had been postponed until the following spring. Now it was early March and the Rainbow Ranch party was starting forth upon the Mediterranean trip. Their plan had been to stop over for a day in Gibraltar and afterwards to see Italy thoroughly before entering any other country.
However, on this, their first evening at sea, when they had anticipated so much happiness, there was but one question and one desire in the hearts of Ruth, Jack, Olive and Jean.
How could they bear the ten unendurable days before their ship reached Gibraltar and the second ten of their return journey to New York?
For Ruth and the girls had finally concluded that Frieda had never sailed on the Martha Washington. Of course a few passengers had been discovered who claimed to have seen a young girl answering Frieda's description. However, no one would swear to it. And even if Frieda had fallen overboard, surely some one would have seen or heard her. Her disappearance had taken place among a crowd of apparently well-dressed and well-behaved people. It hardly seemed possible that she could have been kidnapped. Nevertheless the steerage had been quietly investigated without the slightest clue having been established.
It was the old story that was once more repeating itself. Nothing seems more improbable than that any one whom we know and love can suddenly vanish without leaving a trace of his or her whereabouts. Yet when this actually does take place, no one has a sensible suggestion to make. All is confusion, uncertainty and at last despair.
However, neither Ruth nor any one of the three Ranch girls were making any noise, so that they suddenly became aware of a movement down the short hall leading to Ruth's room. And then followed a knock at the door.
Ruth turned over, facing the wall. "The steward is bringing our dinner. Do please do your best to eat something, girls, for we shall need all our strength," she pleaded.
Jacqueline shook her head. "Not tonight. If you will let me get away to myself for a few hours I shall be stronger by tomorrow."
For the first time there was something in Jack's voice that brought her chaperon, cousin and friend to a quick realization of their own weakness. For, although Jack's right to sorrow was certainly greater than theirs, until now, had she not been the strongest and most hopeful of them all? And this when two long years of illness had left her far from strong. Possibly through suffering she had learned a finer self-control.
As she moved toward the closed door with her face white as a sheet, suddenly Jean flung herself in her cousin's path.
"Don't go until you have tried eating something," she begged. "We can't bear to have you ill again besides our anxiety about Frieda."
Jean flung open the stateroom door, but stumbled back and was actually caught by Jack.
For there on their threshold stood the Princess, holding by the hand a young girl with a quantity of light hair tumbled loosely about a flushed face. Her blue eyes with their long lashes were looking indescribably sleepy and injured and in her other hand she held a small, gold-linked purse.
Jean sank down on the floor as Jack released her hold on her. Ruth started up with a cry; Olive rose quickly to her feet, only to drop back into her old place again. Therefore it was Jack who reached the figures at the door first. And there her long-controlled self-restraint gave way, as she flung her arms about the newcomer's neck.
"Oh, Frieda, Frieda Ralston," she sobbed. "Where have you been and what has happened to you? Who could have kept you away from us for all these hours. Hours – why you must have been away years!"
But Frieda had now come into the stateroom, with the Princess following her. And though she had kissed Jack dutifully and affectionately enough, she gazed with astonishment and some resentment from one white face to the other.
"I – I haven't been anywhere," she protested. "At least, I have just been asleep."
"Asleep!" Jean whispered the single word over several times. "Asleep!" Yet certainly everything in Frieda's appearance suggested this to be the truth. Her face was as calm and untroubled as a big wax doll's, her color and eyes as serene.
"But how, when, where?" Ruth Drew inquired, struggling between the hysterical desire to burst into laughter and tears at the same moment.
"I made a mistake in our stateroom," Frieda explained with that offended and yet apologetic air which the other girls knew so well. "You see, I came on the ship a little after Olive and Jack did and saw them standing together waving to people. I knew they would never stop until we got clear out of sight of New York. And I – I was so dreadfully tired! You remember we had been out to the theater two nights in succession and had just had the long trip from Wyoming to New York; so I thought I would lie down for a few minutes' rest. I couldn't find Ruth in our stateroom or in hers, but I supposed that she had gone up on deck. So I took off my hat and coat and lay down – and – that's all there is to it."
Olive started the laughter. The nervous tension of the past few hours had been too great for everybody. Now Frieda's voice, her manner, her explanation, had turned what had seemed a tragedy but a few minutes before into a ridiculous farce.
"Would you mind telling me, Frieda," (Olive struggled to be as serious as Frieda might consider proper), "how you could find a stateroom in which you could sleep for five or six hours undisturbed, when every single room, every spot aboard this big ship has been ransacked to find you?"
But here Jean's Princess, who had not spoken before, laughed gaily.
"Please, this is where I come in. Isn't that the American slang?" she queried. "I found Goldilocks asleep in my bed just as the little bear did in the old fairy story. Remember, my stateroom is the only one that has never been investigated, since I have spent the entire time with you. It is true that my maid and courier have been into my sitting room, which adjoins my bedroom, several times. But they have also been too worried over your loss even to have unpacked my trunks. Imagine what an odd sensation it was for me to discover two big, blue eyes staring at me from my very own pillow!"
And the Princess laughed as naturally and cheerfully as an ordinary American girl.
