Can anyone rest properly when they are on the first sea voyage of their young lives? I can't imagine how Father could expect me to retire uncomplainingly to my room on the schooner to Boston, that night when we were halfway between the old life and the new. He had sent me to bed some time ago with a wave of his hand as he led Mother Lavendar into the room that they would share. She looked back at me sympathetically, but I could tell by the way she leaned into Father that she wasn't entirely sorry that he requested her company.

We had left Yarmouth, Nova Scotia that afternoon, and we were expected to arrive in Boston sometime the next day. We could have taken the train, of course, but neither Mother Lavendar nor I had ever been on a boat before. So Father relented to our pleas.

I will never forget the sounds of the pier at Yarmouth. The sailors' shouts echoed in the air and mixed with the jostling of trunks and the cries of the gulls. It was just as I had imagined a busy port to be. I made a mental impression of all my observations, so I could write them in a letter to my beautiful teacher, Miss Shirley, when we arrived in Boston. Oh, how I would miss her! But Mother Lavendar promised me that we will be back to visit.

As we descended from the train that had taken us across most of Nova Scotia, Father called to a young man in uniform, instructing that our belongings be put on the boat. I must admit that I was slightly worried - how could we be sure that they would make it? I looked up into Mother Lavendar's face. She was looking around with eyes as wide as mine felt, looking every bit like a child as young as I. Her eye caught me looking at her and she smiled down at me, squeezing my hand.

We followed Father through the crowds. There were people walking every which way. Sailors who smelled like salted fish moved the fastest of all, throwing ropes to each other and tossing trunks into the hold. Tossing! I reached my hand into my pocket, grateful that I hadn't packed the picture of my little mother into my trunk. As much as I love Mother Lavendar, I have promised myself that she will never replace my little mother who loved me so well.

We stopped in front of a ramp that led up into the boat. I knew it was called the Gangplank, from reading stories about sea voyages. Father approached a man who was standing by the base of it, and Mother Lavendar and I stopped some feet behind him. I looked around. I had never been in a place that was so loud or so busy. I could tell that there were no Rock People here - if there were, they would all have fled. My rock people would certainly be frightened if they came here. Of course, my rock people are not real, but still I know how they would behave in every situation.

I looked up at Mother Lavendar. She was looking at the boat and I knew that it looked as big and new to her as it did to me. A tear rolled down her cheek. I reached my arm around her waist and rested my head on her shoulder.

"I can hardly wait for the grand ball to begin," I whispered. "Is it really right up that velvet-carpeted staircase?"

Mother Lavendar smiled. "That's right. I am much honored to have you as my escort, my dear Lord Worthington."

"It is my pleasure, Lady Essex."

And, with that, we followed Father up the ramp. Mother Lavendar and I are kindred spirits, you see. And we know that pretending things helps to ease the heart when it is sad. We were both sad at leaving Canada, and looking up at that large ship I knew that Mother Lavendar missed Echo Lodge as much as I did then.

We stepped off a ramp into a narrow carpeted hallway, with gas lamps lining the walls and doors in between each lamp. The doors were a dark green with brass handles. Using a key the man Father had talked to had given him, he unlocked one of the doors. We stepped in. Right inside the door was a small parlor, and two doors at the back wall led into a larger bedroom and a smaller one. My belongings were placed at the foot of the bed in the small room. I sighed with genuine relief to see it. Under the bed was a chamber pot, and in the corner was a basin. It was just like a hotel.

The ship's whistle blew, and I ran into the bedroom that Mother Lavendar and Father were sharing. "May we go up for the departure?" I asked. I wanted to wave at the people on the pier and pretend that I was someone very important and they were all waving at me.

"Of course, Paul," Father answered.

"Quick, we'll miss it!" I cried. I grabbed Mother Lavendar's hand and we ran up the stairs, Father following behind, much more dignified than we. I saw a space by the rail that looked on the pier, and ran to it.

"Goodbye!" I cried to the strangers below. "Goodbye, may God bless you all!"

"Do you know anyone down there, Paul?" Father asked.

"I'm pretending I do," I answered.

"You are a curious child," Father murmured. Mother Lavendar winked at me.

Just then the whistle blew again and the boat began to pull away from the shore.

"Goodbye!" I called again. "Goodbye, all!" My eye scanned the crowd - men standing straight and tall like Father, women in fashionable suits and hats, children in pinafores and short pants running in and out of legs trying to catch a glimpse of the ship. For a moment my eye caught on a tall lady with red hair that peeked out from her hat. I almost called out to her, but I realized that my beautiful teacher was back on Prince Edward Island, and not here. I would not see her here.

I looked to my left, to where Mother Lavendar had been standing, wanting to imagine something about this moment. But a stranger was standing where she had been, and turning around, I saw neither her nor Father. I broke away from the rail and looked around at the crowds. Seeing neither of them, I ran back downstairs, running as fast as I could though I wasn't entirely sure where our rooms were. Somehow I found them, though, and burst into the door fearing that I wouldn't find them there and then I would surely panic. But there was Mother Lavendar, sitting in a chair. Father was standing next to her, holding her hand. She was very pale. I went to her.

"Mother Lavendar, are you ill?"

"No," she replied, taking my hand. "No, Paul, darling, I'm not ill."

"Are you frightened?"

"A bit.but not of the ship."

"What is it?"

"I'm very homesick, my darling." Her voice caught as she spoke the words.

"But the state rooms are so lovely."

She shook her head. "I don't want state rooms. And not even your imagination can bring Echo Lodge to me, dear one." A tear rolled down her cheek. Another followed it. I was too big to climb into her lap, but I did so just the same.

"Come, Mother Lavendar," I whispered into her shoulder. "Let's take a tour of the ship. It will take your mind off home."

"No," she whispered. "You go, dear. Tell me all about it."

"I don't want to go without you," I said, standing up. "Please come. We'll make up stories about all the people on board. Oh, please come, Mother Lavendar." I reached out my hand to her.

"Go, my dear," Father murmured. "You'll drive yourself crazy sitting here thinking about home."

Mother Lavendar looked at Father, then at me. Finally she reached out and took my hand.

Together we went up on deck. The land was getting smaller and smaller, and most people had stopped waving. There was only one girl, who looked not much older than I. She was wearing a brown suit and had chestnut hair that was swept up under a hat that she held on with one pale hand. She was leaning out over the rail, her gaze fixed on the shore.

I stepped up on my toes so I could whisper in Mother Lavendar's ear. "Her parents have died of disease. She is being sent away to an aunt in the States."

Mother Lavendar pointed to a young couple who were sitting on a bench hand in hand. The bench was facing the shore, but their gaze was fixed on each other. "They have just been married, and they are going to New York City so that he can seek his fortune in railroads."

Mother Lavendar and I walked all around the ship, making up such situations for everyone we saw. We even made up stories for the sailors - jilted lover who took to sea to escape his heart's pain, son of a naval officer who died in battle. By the time we had rounded the entire deck, the sun was setting. As we stood deciding whether to go around again, the dinner bell rang and we returned down below and headed towards the dining- room.

We took our dinner with Father, who praised my lack of seasickness and my hearty appetite under such conditions. Then he and Mother Lavendar retired to their room, and I was sent to mine. I thought I might begin a letter to my beautiful teacher, but the sea air called to me. I wanted to see the sky above the ship, and look up at the stars above the ocean. I thought about knocking on their door, but thought they might want some time to themselves.

I felt some guilt at disobeying Father, but as I have said, no one can rightly ask another to calmly retire when on such an adventure. So I climbed the stairs to the deck, and ran around to the prow. Gazing upward, I saw so many stars glittering - the crown jewels could not be so beautiful. Perhaps I was wrong - perhaps fairyland is not in the forest but in the sky. Certainly those glittering lights were fairy-candles! I could not keep such beauty to myself. I ran down the stairs and knocked on Mother Lavendar and Father's door. Father opened the door and peered out at me.

"What's wrong, Paul?"

"Nothing's wrong, Father. I only wanted.will you and Mother Lavendar come out to see the stars?"

Father sighed. "If we do, will you leave us for the evening?"

"Yes, sir."

"All right. Just for a moment, though." He stepped out into the hall. He was still in his day-clothes, though his collar was undone. Mother Lavendar was also still dressed, though without jacket. This she picked up from the chair and pulled on as she followed him out the door.

"It's beautiful, Mother Lavendar!" I cried. "There are faeries in the sky."

She smiled. "Perhaps we can be witness to their ministries to the Moon Queen."

Father shook his head. "Heathens, the both of you." I laughed and took Mother Lavendar's hand, leading her up the stairs. As we reached the top, she looked up at the sky and immediately stopped in her tracks with an "Oh!"

"Isn't it lovely?" I said.

She put her arm around me and squeezed my shoulders. "Thank you for calling us up here, Paul dear."

We stood and stared up for a moment. I pointed to the brightest star. "There she is," I said. "The Fairy Queen."

"Yes, and there are her attendants." Mother Lavendar pointed to the stars around it.

"Oh, wouldn't Miss Shirley love this scene? She would have such a story about it1"

Mother Lavendar smiled fondly. "I'm sure she would want us to 'soak the starshine into our souls.'" She imitated my beautiful teacher's pattern of speech so well that I couldn't help but laugh. "Oh, my dear little Anne," Mother Lavendar sighed.

And all of a sudden I remembered her face so clearly - more clearly than one usually can see a face in his mind's eye. I remembered her walking with me that day when I went to my little mother's grave. I remembered her standing in front of the classroom, her eyes glowing as she spoke of a favorite piece of poetry. I remembered the first time she took me to Echo Lodge, and the time she took tea with Mary Joe and me. And oh, how I missed her! Before I realized it I was weeping, just standing there staring out into the void of the sea and mourning. Father laid an awkward hand on my shoulder.

"It's all right, son," he said gruffly. "We will make a visit soon enough."

Oh, it could never be soon enough! I wept still harder, with all the desperation of wanting something that's very far away. I felt a gentle arm around my shoulders. Looking up, I saw that it was Mother Lavendar. Her eyes seemed to reach out to me - like my beautiful teacher, Mother Lavendar has eyes that reflect your heart back to you, and hers mourned in that moment. I looked at her and she reached her arms out. I slid into them and she held me tight.

"I think." she murmured after a moment. "I think there's a reason why birds fly in a flock."

So they are not alone on the journey. I knew that was what she meant - it doesn't take many words for kindred spirits like we to understand each other. It was time for us to make a long journey away from what we held very dear - but we needn't make the journey alone. And looking up into Mother Lavendar's eyes, I knew that making a journey with a kindred spirit was a thousand times better than making it alone. And someday soon, we would make the journey back to our home together. Just like a flock of birds flying with the seasons. And Father would join our flock, kin to us by blood as we are kin by soul.

I smiled at Mother Lavendar and hugged her again, tight. Then I stepped back and took her hand. "How lovely the stars look in the garden tonight," I said. "Will you walk with me through the rose bushes, Lady Essex?"

"It would be my pleasure, Lord Worthington."