to go wandering, and Father is going to have me travel alone some of the time, so I can learn to have confidence; and I'm going to take my type-writer, and—"
"When you going?" I asked.
"To-morrow night."
I sat down and began whittling a cleat for the crow's-nest. I knew I ought to be glad for her: but I wasn't. I had been dreadfully lonesome while she was away,—and now to have her going traipsing right off again—well, I wasn't mad, but I was all-fired blue.
"What about school?" I said.
"Why, I'll miss some, of course," said Bess; "but Father thinks that the trip will be of a lot more use to me. He has it all planned out. We're going to Chicago first, and he's going to leave me there for a few days, or a week; and then he's going to take me to Indianapolis, and I'll be there for a week or more, and then I'll go by myself to Columbus, Ohio, and he'll meet me there; then I'll go alone to Washington, and he'll come there; and then to some other places, I forget some of them, and then back to Chicago, and then home."
