The Doctor and the Professor, with the ladies, took a long walk through the park. They met many of the natives, who were coming from every direction to see the marvelous silver ship.

"I declare," said Mrs. Jones, "that I can hardly realize that all this can be true. I have to pinch myself sometimes to see if I am not enjoying a long beautiful dream."

Doctor Jones' Picnic — Part 64

"It is romantic to the last degree," replied Professor Gray.

Doctor Jones' Picnic — Part 64

"The wind still holds in the north," remarked Dr. Jones, scanning the skies and treetops. "I see that it has veered a few points to the west. We will surely get a favorable wind before many days."

Doctor Jones' Picnic — Part 64

"Isn't it a pity that you cannot stay with that lovely girl until she is out of danger?" sighed Mrs. Jones.

"Yes, it grieves me exceedingly to be obliged to leave her, but I have no option in the matter. If that globe were my private property, I would not leave her until she was out of danger. But, under the circumstances, I cannot do so. After all," said he, brightening up with the thought, "she will probably do as well without me."

"She is the loveliest creature I ever saw," said Mattie. "How gentle, beautiful, and patient she is. Much as I desire to visit the North Pole, still I would gladly remain here six months or a year if it would do her any good."

The day passed away without incident. After dinner all met in the drawing-room, and the invalid girl occupied an easy chair among them. She extended her hand to Dr. Jones with a grateful smile, and said:

"Doctor, I have not passed so comfortable a day for a very long time. I shall get well. Your medicine has done wonders for me already. You are, no doubt, in great haste to reach your destination, but you must not leave me until I am better. If you do, I shall die."

"O, no! my dear Miss Feodora, you will not die. I shall leave you medicines that will help you through nicely."

This the Doctor said with all the assurance and cheerfulness he could command. But she instinctively detected a slight shade of anxiety or uncertainty in his tone. The physician must be a consummate actor who can deceive a patient whose perceptions are preternaturally acute as were Feodora's. He saw that he had not deceived her, and cried:

"Do not let us think of that subject to-night. This unfavorable wind may last many days, and I promise to see you better before I go."