"But why don't you invite some of us ladies to go along ?" "Because you are _not_ necessary evils," returned her brother, with a twinkle of fun in his eye.
"You should, one and all, have an invitation if we could make you comfortable," said Harold, gallantly: "but the vessel has absolutely no accommodations for ladies." "Ah, then, you are excusable," returned Betty.
The young men left the next morning, after an early breakfast.

Zoe and Betty drove down to the wharf with them to see them off, and watched the departing vessel till she disappeared from sight.
Zoe went home in tears, Betty doing her best to console her.
"Come, now, be a brave little woman; it's for only two or three days at the farthest.

Why, I'd never get married if I thought I shouldn't be able to live so long without the fortunate man I bestowed my hand upon." "Oh, you don't know anything about it, Betty!" sobbed Zoe.

"Ned's all I have in the world, and it's so lonesome without him! And then, how do I know that he'll ever get back?
A storm may come up and the vessel be wrecked." "That's just possible," said Betty, "and it's great folly to make ourselves miserable over bare possibilities--things which may never happen." "Oh, you are a great deal too wise for me!" said Zoe, in disgust.
"Oh," cried Betty, "if it's a pleasure and comfort to you to be miserable--to make yourself so by anticipating the worst--do so by all means.

I have heard of people who are never happy but when they are miserable." "But I am not one of that sort," said Zoe, in an aggrieved tone.