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SHAWL-STRAPS.
'On the first day of February we three will sail from Boston for Messina, in the little fruit-ship "Wasp." We shall probably be a month going, unless we cross in a gale as I did, splitting sails every night, and standing on our heads most of the way,' said Amanda, folding up her maps with an air of calm decision.
'Hurrah! what fun!' cried Matilda, waving a half-finished dressing-case over her head.
But Lavinia, with one sepulchral groan, fell flat upon her bed, and lay there, dumb with the horrors of such a voyage.
'Just the thing for you, my poor old dear. Think of the balmy airs of Sicily, the oranges, the flowers. Then a delicious month or two at Sorrento, with no east winds, no slush, no spring cleaning. We shall be as merry as grigs, and get as buxom as dairy-maids in a month,' said the sprightly Amanda.
'I shall keep my word; but you will bury me in the Atlantic, so make up your minds to it. Do you suppose that I, a poor, used-up old invalid, who can't look at a sail-boat without a qualm, can survive thirty days of standing on my head, and thirty nights of sail-splitting, as we go slamming and lurching across two or three awful oceans?' demanded Lavinia, with the energy of despair.
Before anyone could reply, Amanda's little Mercury appeared with a note.
'Oh dear!' sighed Matilda.
'Saved!' cried Lavinia.
'Be calm: we shall go, sooner or later, if I buy a ship and sail her myself;' with which indomitable remark Amanda went forth to grapple with and conquer untoward circumstances.
A month of plans, vicissitudes, and suspense followed, during which Amanda strove manfully; Matilda suffered agonies of hope and fear; and Lavinia remained a passive shuttlecock, waiting to be tossed wherever Fate's battledore chose to send her.
'Exactly two weeks from to-day, we sail with a party of friends in the French steamer "Lafayette," from New York for Brest. Will you be ready?' demanded Amanda, after a protracted wrestle with aforesaid adverse circumstances.
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