So I made a day's voyage, and still ate my three squares a day.

That was encouraging." "I knew all the time it wasn't the voyage that wrecked your stomach," said Patsy confidently.
"What was it, then ?" "Ptomaine poisoning, or something like that." "Well, anyhow, I found I could stand ocean travel again, so I determined on a voyage.

The Panama Canal was just opened and I passed through it, came up the Atlantic coast, and--the _Arabella_ is at this moment safely anchored in the North River!" "And how do you feel ?" inquired Uncle John.
"Glorious--magnificent! The trip has sealed my recovery for good." "But why didn't you go home, to your Island of Sangoa ?" asked Beth.
He looked at her reproachfully.
"_You_ were not there, Beth; nor was Patsy, or Uncle John.

On the other hand, there is no one in Sangoa who cares a rap whether I come home or not.

I'm the last of the Joneses of Sangoa, and while it is still my island and the entire population is in my employ, the life there flows on just as smoothly without me as if I were present." "But don't they need the ship--the _Arabella_ ?" questioned Beth.
"Not now.