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Elsie's New Relations

by Martha Finley · English · Gutenberg #14909 · 385,002 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: Elsie's New Relations

Author: Martha Finley


        
Release date: February 4, 2005 [eBook #14909]
                Most recently updated: December 19, 2020

Language: English

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Credits: E-text prepared by Juliet Sutherland, Emmy, and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ELSIE'S NEW RELATIONS ***


E-text prepared by Juliet Sutherland, Emmy, and the Project Gutenberg
Online Distributed Proofreading Team (www.pgdp.net)



ELSIE'S NEW RELATIONS

What They Did and How They Fared at Ion

A Sequel to _Grandmother Elsie_

by

MARTHA FINLEY

A. L. Burt Company
Publishers
New York Chicago

1911







CHAPTER I.

    "For wild, or calm, or far or near,
     I love thee still, thou glorious sea."
                      --Mrs. Hemans.

    "I bless thee for kind looks and words
      Shower'd on my path like dew,
     For all the love in those deep eyes,
      A gladness ever new."
                      --Mrs. Hemans.


It is late in the afternoon of a delicious October day; the woods back of
the two cottages where the Dinsmores, Travillas and Raymonds have spent
the last three or four months are gorgeous with scarlet, crimson and gold;
the air from the sea is more delightful than ever, but the summer visitors
to the neighboring cottages and hotels have fled, and the beach is almost
deserted, as Edward and his child-wife wander slowly along it, hand in
hand, their attention divided between the splendors of a magnificent
sunset and the changing beauty of the sea; yonder away in the distance it
is pale gray; near at hand delicate green slowly changing to pink, each
wave crested with snowy foam, and anon they all turn to burnished gold.

"Oh, how very beautiful!" cries Zoe, in an ecstasy of delight. "Edward,
did you ever see anything finer?"

"Never! Let us go down this flight of steps and seat ourselves on the next
to the lowest. We will then be quite near the waves and yet out of danger
of being wet by them."

He led her down as he spoke, seated her comfortably and himself by her
side with his arm around her.

"I've grown very fond of the sea," she remarked. "I shall be sorry to
leave it. Will not you?"

"Yes and no," he answered, doubtfully. "I, too, am fond of old ocean, but
eager to get to Ion and begin life in earnest. Isn't it time, seeing I
have been a married man for nearly five months? But why that sigh, love?"

"O Edward, are you not sorry you are married? Are you not sometimes very
much ashamed of me?" she asked, her cheek burning hotly and the downcast
eyes filling with tears.

"Ashamed of you, Zoe? Why, darling, you are my heart's best treasure," he
said, drawing her closer to his side, and touching his lips to her
forehead. "What has put so absurd an idea into your head?"

"I know so little, so very little compared with your mother and sisters,"
she sighed. "I'm finding it out more and more every day, as I hear them
talk among themselves and to other people."

"But you are younger than any of them, a very great deal younger than
mamma, and will have time to catch up to them."

"But I'm a married woman and so can't go to school any more. Ah," with
another and very heavy sigh, "I wish papa hadn't been quite so indulgent,
or that I'd had sense enough not to take advantage of it to the neglect of
my studies!"

"No, I suppose it would hardly do to send you to school, even if I could
spare you--which I can't," he returned laughingly, "but there is a
possibility of studying at home, under a governess or tutor. What do you
say to offering yourself as a pupil to grandpa?"

"Oh, no, no! I'm sure he can be very stern upon occasion. I've seen it in
his eyes when I've made a foolish remark that he didn't approve, and I
should be too frightened to learn if he were my teacher."

"Then some one else must be thought of," Edward said, with a look of
amusement. "How would I answer?"

"You? Oh, splendidly!"

"You are not afraid of me?"

"No, indeed!" she cried, with a merry laugh and a saucy look up into his
face.

"And yet I'm the only person who has authority over you."

"Authority, indeed!" with a little contemptuous sniff.

"You promised to obey, you know."

"Did I? Well, maybe so, but that's just a form that doesn't really mean
anything. Most any married woman will tell you that."

"Do you consider the whole of your marriage vow an unmeaning form, Zoe?"
he asked, with sudden gravity and a look of doubt and pain in his eyes
that she could not bear to see.

"No, no! I was only in jest," she said, dropping her eyes and blushing
deeply. "But really, Edward, you don't think, do you, that wives are to
obey like children?"

"No, love, I don't; and I think in a true marriage the two are so entirely
one--so unselfishly desirous each to please the other--that there is
little or no clashing of wills. Thus far ours has seemed such to me. How
is it, do you think, little wife?"

"I hope so, Edward," she said, laying her head on his shoulder, "I know
one thing--that there is nothing in this world I care so much for as to
please you and be all and everything to you."

"And I can echo your words from my very heart, dearest," he said,
caressing her. "I hope you are at home and happy among your new
relatives."

"Yes, indeed, Edward, especially with mamma. She is the dearest, kindest
mother in the world; to me as much as to her own children, and oh, so wise
and good!"

"You are not sorry now that you and I are not to live alone?" he queried,
with a pleased smile.

"No, oh, no! I'm ever so glad that she is to keep house at Ion and all of
us to live together as one family."

"Except Lester and Elsie," he corrected; "they will be with us for a short
time, then go to Fairview for the winter. And it will probably become
their home after that, as mamma will buy it, if Mr. Leland--Lester's
uncle, who owns the place--carries out his intention of removing to
California. His children have settled there, and, of course, the father
and mother want to be with them."

The sun had set, and all the bright hues had faded from the sea, leaving
it a dull gray.

"What a deserted spot this seems!" remarked Zoe, "and only the other day
it was gay with crowds of people. Nobody to be seen now but ourselves,"
glancing up and down the coast as she spoke. "Ah, yes! yonder is someone
sitting on that piece of wreck."

"It is Lulu Raymond," Edward said, following the direction of her glance.
"It is late for the child to be out so far from home; a full mile I should
say. I'll go and invite her to walk back with us."

"No, you needn't," said Zoe, "for see, there is her father going to her.
But let us go home, for I must change my dress before tea."

"And we want time to walk leisurely along," returned Edward, rising and
giving her his hand to help her up the steps.

Lulu was reading, so absorbed in the story that she did not perceive her
father's approach, and as he accosted her with, "It is late for you to be
here alone, my child, you should have come in an hour ago," she gave a
great start, and involuntarily tried to hide her book.

"What have you there? Evidently something you do not wish your father to
see," he said, bending down and taking it from her unwilling hand.

"Ah, I don't wonder!" as he hurriedly turned over a few pages. "A dime
novel! Where did you get this, Lulu?"

"It's Max's, papa, he lent it to me. O papa, what made you do that?" as
with an energetic fling the captain suddenly sent it far out into the sea.
"Max made me promise to take care of it and give it back to him, and
besides I wanted to finish the story."

"Neither you nor Max shall ever read such poisonous stuff as that with my
knowledge and consent," replied the captain in stern accents.

"Papa, I didn't think you'd be so unkind," grumbled Lulu, her face
expressing extreme vexation and disappointment, "or that you would throw
away other people's things."

"Unkind, my child?" he said, sitting down beside her and taking her hand
in his. "Suppose you had gathered a quantity of beautiful, sweet-tasted
berries that I knew to be poisonous, and were about to eat them; would it
be unkind in me to snatch them out of your hand and throw them into the
sea?"

"No, sir; because it would kill me to eat them, but that book couldn't
kill me, or even make me sick."

"No, not your body, but it would injure your soul, which is worth far
more. I'm afraid I have been too negligent in regard to the mental food of
my children," he went on after a slight pause, rather as if thinking aloud
than talking to Lulu, "and unfortunately I cannot take the oversight of it
constantly in the future. But remember, Lulu," he added firmly, "I wholly
forbid dime novels, and you are not to read anything without first
obtaining the approval of your father or one of those under whose
authority he has placed you."

Lulu's face was full of sullen discontent and anger. "Papa," she said, "I
don't like to obey those people."

"If you are wise, you will try to like what has to be," he said.

"It wouldn't have to be if you would only say I needn't, papa."

"I shall not say that, Lucilla," he answered with grave displeasure. "You
need guidance and control even more than most children of your age, and I
should not be doing my duty if I left you without them."

"I don't like to obey people that are no relation to me!" she cried,
viciously kicking away a little heap of sand.

"No, you don't even like to obey your father," he said with a sigh. "Max
and Gracie together do not give me half the anxiety that you do by your
wilful temper."

"Why, can't I do as I please as well as grown people?" she asked in a more
subdued tone.

"Even grown people have to obey," said her father. "I am now expecting
orders from the government, and must obey them when they come. I must obey
my superior officers, and the officers and men under me must obey me. So
must my children. God gave you to me and requires me to train you up in
His fear and service to the best of my ability. I should not be doing that
if I allowed you to read such hurtful trash as that I just took from
you."

"It was Max's, papa, and I promised to give it back. What shall I say when
he asks me for it?"

"Tell him to come to me about it."

"Papa----"

"Well, what is it?" he asked, as she paused and hesitated.

"Please, papa, don't punish him. You never told him not to buy or read
such things, did you?"

"No; and I think he would not have done so in defiance of a prohibition
from me. So I shall not punish him. But I am pleased that you should plead
for him. I am very glad that my children all love one another."

"Yes, indeed we do, papa!" she said, "And we all love you, and you love
Max and Gracie very much, and----"

"And Lulu also," he said, putting his arm about her and drawing her closer
to his side, as she paused with quivering lip and downcast eyes.

"As much as you do Max and Gracie?" she asked brokenly, hiding her face on
his shoulder. "You said just now I was naughtier than both of them put
together."

"Yet you are my own dear child, and it is precisely because I love you so
dearly that I am so distressed over your quick temper and wilfulness. I
fear that if not conquered they will cause great unhappiness to yourself
as well as to your friends. I want you to promise me, daughter, that you
will try to conquer them, asking God to help you."

"I will, papa," she said, with unwonted humility; "but, oh, I wish you
were going to stay with us! It's easier to be good with you than with
anybody else."

"I am sorry, indeed, that I cannot," he said, rising and taking her hand.
"Come, we must go back to the house now."

They moved along in silence for a little, then Lulu said, with an
affectionate look up into her father's face, "Papa, I do so like to walk
this way!"

"How do you mean?" he asked, smiling kindly upon her.

"With my hand in yours, papa. You know I haven't often had the chance."

"No, my poor child," he sighed, "that is one of the deprivations to which
a seaman and his family have to submit."

"Well," said the little girl, lifting his hand to her lips, "I'd rather
have you for my father than anybody else, for all that."

At that he bent down and kissed her with a smile full of pleasure and
fatherly affection.




CHAPTER II.

    "By thy words thou shalt be justified, and by thy words thou
    shalt be condemned."--_Matt._ 12:37.


As they drew near the house Max came to meet them.

"I've been to the post-office since the mail came in, papa," he said, "and
there is no government letter for you yet. I'm so glad! I hope they're
going to let us keep you a good deal longer."

"I'm not sorry to prolong my stay with wife and children," the captain
responded, "but cannot hope to be permitted to do so very much longer."

"Grandpa Dinsmore has come back from taking Harold and Herbert to
college," pursued Max, "and we're all to take tea in there, Mamma Vi says;
because grandpa wants us all about him this first evening."

"That is kind," said the captain, opening the gate and looking smilingly
at Violet, who, with little Grace, was waiting for him on the veranda. He
stopped there to speak with them, while Lulu hurried on into the house
and up to her own room, Max following.

"Where's my book, Lu?" he asked.

"O Max, I couldn't help it--but papa caught me reading it and took it away
from me. And he told me when you asked me for it I should send you to
him."

Max's face expressed both vexation and alarm. "I sha'n't do that," he
said, "if I never get it. But was he very angry, Lu?"

"No; and you needn't be afraid to go to him, for he won't punish you; I
asked him not to, and he said he wouldn't. But he threw the book into the
sea, and said neither you nor I should ever read such poisonous stuff with
his knowledge or consent."

"Then, where would be the use of my going to him for it? I'll not say a
word about it."

He went out, closed the door and stood irresolutely in the hall, debating
with himself whether to go up-stairs or down. Up-stairs in his room was
another dime novel which he had been reading that afternoon; he had not
quite finished it, and was eager to do so; he wanted very much to know how
the story ended, and had meant to read the few remaining pages now before
the call to tea. But his father's words, reported to him by Lulu, made it
disobedience.

"It's a very little sin," whispered the tempter; "as having read so much,
you might as well read the rest."

"But it will be disobeying wilfully the kind father who forgave a heedless
act of disobedience not very long ago," said conscience; "the dear father
who must soon leave you to be gone no one knows how long, perhaps never to
come back."

Just then the captain came quickly up the stairs. "Ah, Max, are you
there?" he said, in a cheery tone, then laying his hand affectionately on
the boy's shoulder. "Come in here with me, my son, I want to have a little
talk with you while I make my toilet."

"Yes, sir," said Max, following him into the dressing-room.

"What have you been reading to-day?" asked the captain, throwing off his
coat, pouring water into the basin from the pitcher, and beginning his
ablutions.

Max hung his head in silence till the question was repeated, then
stammered out the title of the book, the perusal of which he was so
desirous to finish.

"Where did you get it?" asked his father.

"I bought it at a news-stand, papa."

"You must not buy anything more of that kind, Max; you must not read any
such trash."

"I will not again, papa; I should not this time if you had ever forbidden
me before."

"No, I don't believe you would be guilty of wilful disobedience to any
positive command of your father," the captain said in a grave but kindly
tone; "and yet I think you suspected I would not approve, else why were
you so unwilling to tell me what you had been reading?"

He was standing before the bureau now, hairbrush in hand, and as he spoke
he paused in his work, and gazed searchingly at his son.

Max's face flushed hotly, and his eyes drooped for a moment, then looking
up into his father's face he said frankly, "Yes, papa, I believe I was
afraid you would take the book from me if you saw it. I deserve that you
should be angry with me for that and for lending one to Lu."

"I am displeased with you on both accounts," the captain replied, "but I
shall overlook it this time, my son, hoping there will be no repetition of
either offence. Now go to your room, gather up all the doubtful reading
matter you have, and bring it here to me. I shall not go with you, but
trust to your honor to keep nothing back."

"Oh, thank you, papa, for trusting me!" cried Max, his countenance
brightening wonderfully, and he hastened away to do his father's bidding.

"Just the dearest, kindest father that ever was!" he said to himself, as
he bounded up the stairs. "I'll never do anything again to vex him, if I
can help it."

He was down again in a moment with two dime novels and a story-paper of
the same stamp.

The captain had finished his toilet. Seating himself he took what Max had
brought, and glancing hastily over it, "How much of this trash have you
read, Max?" he asked.

"The paper and most of one book, papa. I'll not read any more such, since
you've forbidden me; but they're very interesting, papa."

"I dare say, to a boy of your age. But you don't think I would want to
deprive you of any innocent pleasure, Max?"

"No, sir; oh, no! But may I know why you won't let me read such stories?"

"Yes; it is because they give false views of life, and thus lead to wrong
and foolish actions. Why, Max, some boys have been made burglars and
highwaymen by such stories. I want you to be a reader, but of good and
wholesome literature; books that will give you useful information and good
moral teachings; above all things, my son, I would have you a student of
the Bible, 'the holy Scriptures, which are able to make you wise unto
salvation through faith which is in Jesus Christ.' Do you read it often,
Max?"

"Not very, papa. But you know I hear you read it every morning and
evening."

"Yes; but I have sometimes been grieved to see that you paid very little
attention."

Max colored at that. "Papa, I will try to do better," he said.

"I hope you will," said his father. "You will enjoy the same religious
advantages at Ion, and, my boy, try to profit by them, remembering that we
shall have to render an account at last of the use or abuse of all our
privileges. I want you to promise me that you will read a few verses of
the Bible every day, and commit at least one to memory."

"I will, papa. And what else shall I read? You will let me have some
story-books, won't you?" Max said, entreatingly.

"Yes," said his father, "I have no objection to stories of the right sort.
There are some very beautiful stories in the Bible; there are entertaining
stories in history; and there are fictitious stories that will do you good
and not harm. I shall take care in future that you have plenty of
wholesome mental food, so that you will have no excuse for craving such
stuff as this," he added, with a glance of disgust at what he held in his
hand. "It may go into the kitchen fire."

"Mrs. Scrimp never burns the least little bit of paper, papa," said Max.

"Indeed! Why not?" asked his father, with an amused smile.

"She says it is wicked waste, because it is better than rags for the
paper-makers."

"Ah! well, then, we will tear these into bits and let them go to the
paper-makers."

Max was standing by his father's side. "Papa," he said, with a roguish
look into his father's face, "don't you think you would enjoy reading them
first?"

The captain laughed. "No, my son," he said; "I have not the slightest
inclination to read them. Bring me that waste basket and you may help me
tear them up."

They began the work of destruction, Max taking the paper, the captain the
book his son had been reading. Presently something in it attracted his
attention; he paused and glanced over several pages one after the other,
till Max began to think he had become interested in the story. But no; at
that instant he turned from it to him, and Max was half frightened at the
sternness of his look.

"My son," he said, "I am astonished and deeply grieved that you could read
and enjoy anything like this, for it is full of profanity; and reading or
hearing such expressions is very likely to lead to the use of them. Max,
do you ever say such words?"

Max trembled and grew red and pale by turns, but did not speak.

"Answer me," was his father's stern command.

"Not often, papa."

The captain barely caught the low breathed words. "Not often? sometimes,
then?" he groaned, covering his face with his hand.

"O papa, don't be so grieved! I'll never do it again," Max said in a
broken voice.

The captain sighed deeply. "Max," he said, "dearly as I love my only son,
I would sooner lay him under the sod, knowing that his soul was in heaven,
than have him live to be a profane swearer. Bring me that Bible from the
table yonder."

The boy obeyed.

"Now turn to the twenty-fourth chapter of Leviticus, and read the
sixteenth verse."

Max read in a trembling voice, "'And he that blasphemeth the name of the
Lord, he shall surely be put to death, and all the congregation shall
certainly stone him; as well the stranger, as he that is born in the land,
when he blasphemeth the name of the Lord, shall be put to death.'"

"Now the twenty-third," said his father.

"'And Moses spake to the children of Israel, that they should bring forth
him that had cursed out of the camp, and stone him with stones; and the
children of Israel did as the Lord commanded Moses.'"

Max had some difficulty in finishing the verse, and at the end quite broke
down.

"Papa," he sobbed, "I didn't know that was in the Bible. I never thought
about its being so dreadfully wicked to say bad words."

"What do you now think a boy deserves who has done it again and again? say
as often as Max Raymond has?" asked his father.

"I suppose to be stoned to death like that man. But nobody is ever put to
death for swearing nowadays?" the boy said, half inquiringly, not daring
to look at his father as he spoke.

"No, Max, fortunately for you and many others. But suppose you were my
father and I a boy of your age, and that I had been swearing, what would
you think you ought to do about it?"

"Give you a sound flogging," he answered, in a low, reluctant tone.

"Well, Max, that is just what I shall have to do, if I ever know you to
use a profane word again," said his father, in a grave, sad tone. "I
should do it now, but for the hope that you are sorry enough for the past
to carefully avoid that sin in the future."

"Indeed I will, papa," he said, very humbly.

"And, Max," resumed his father, "you are never to make a companion of, or
go at all with anybody who uses such language, and never to read a book or
story that has in it anything of that kind. And you are not to say by
George or by anything. Our Saviour says, 'Let your communication be Yea,
yea, Nay, nay, for whatsoever is more than these cometh of evil.' My son,
have you asked God to forgive you for taking His holy name in vain?"

"No, sir."

"Then go at once to your room and do it."

"I did, papa," Max said, when he came down again to find his father
waiting for him.

"I trust the petition came from your heart, my son," was the grave but
kind rejoinder. "I must have a little more talk with you on this subject,
but not now, for it is time we followed the others into the next house, if
we would not keep Grandma Rose's tea waiting."




CHAPTER III.

    "A kingdom is a nest of families, and a family is a small
    kingdom."--Tupper.


It was a bright and cheerful scene that greeted the eyes of Captain
Raymond and his son as they entered the parlor of the adjacent cottage.

It was strictly a family gathering, yet the room was quite full. Mr.
Dinsmore was there with his wife, his daughter Elsie and her children,
Edward and Zoe, Elsie Leland with her husband and babe, Violet Raymond
with her husband's two little girls, Lulu and Grace, and lastly Rosie and
Walter.

Everybody had a kindly greeting for the captain, and Violet's bright face
grew still brighter as she made room for him on the sofa by her side.

"We were beginning to wonder what was keeping you," she said.

"Yes, I'm afraid I am rather behind time," he returned. "I hope you have
not delayed your tea for me, Mrs. Dinsmore."

"No; it is but just ready," she said. "Ah, there's the bell. Please, all
of you walk out."

When the meal was over all returned to the parlor, where they spent the
next hour in desultory chat.

Gracie claimed a seat on her father's knee. Lulu took possession of an
ottoman and pushed it up as close to his side as she could; then seating
herself on it leaned up against him.

He smiled and stroked her hair, then glanced about the room in search of
Max.

The boy was sitting silently in a corner, but reading an invitation in his
father's eyes, he rose and came to his other side.

The ladies were talking of the purchases they wished to make in Boston,
New York or Philadelphia, on their homeward route.

"I must get winter hats for Lulu and Gracie," said Violet.

"I want a bird on mine, Mamma Vi," said Lulu; "a pretty one with gay
feathers."

"Do you know, Lulu, that they skin the poor little birds alive in order to
preserve the brilliancy of their plumage?" Violet said with a troubled
look. "I will not wear them on that account, and as you are a kind-hearted
little girl, I think you will not wish to do so either."

"But I do," persisted Lulu. "Of course I wouldn't have a bird killed on
purpose, but after they are killed I might just as well have one."

"But do you not see," said Grandma Elsie, "that if every one would refuse
to buy them, the cruel business of killing them would soon cease? and that
it will go on as long as people continue to buy and wear them?"

"I don't care, I want one," pouted Lulu. "Papa, can't I have it?"

"No, you cannot," he said with grave displeasure. "I am sorry to see that
you can be so heartless. You can have just whatever Grandma Elsie and
Mamma Vi think best for you, and with that you must be content."

Lulu was silenced, but for the rest of the evening her face wore an ugly
scowl.

"My little girl is growing sleepy," the captain said presently to Gracie.
"Papa will carry you over home and put you to bed. Lulu, you may come
too."

"I don't want to, papa, I----" she began; but he silenced her with a look.

"Bid good-night to our friends and come," he said. "You also, Max."

Max, though surprised at the order, obeyed with cheerful alacrity in
strong contrast to Lulu's sullen and reluctant compliance, which said as
plainly as words that she would rebel if she dared.

"I don't see why papa makes us come away so soon," she grumbled to her
brother in an undertone, as they passed from one cottage to the other,
their father a little in advance.

"He must have some good reason," said Max, "and I for one am willing
enough to obey him, seeing it's such a little while I'll have the chance."

They had now reached the veranda of their own cottage.

"Come in quickly out of this cold wind, children," their father said; then
as he closed the outer door after them, "Run into the parlor and get
thoroughly warm before going up to your rooms."

He sat down by the stove with Grace on his knee, and bade the other two
draw up close to it and him, one on each side. And when they had done so,
"My three dear children," he said in tender tones, glancing from one to
another, "no words can tell how much I love you. Will you all think very
often of papa and follow him with your prayers when he is far away on the
sea?"

"Oh, yes, yes, papa!" they all said with tears in their eyes, while Gracie
put her small arms round his neck. Lulu rested her head on his shoulder,
and Max took a hand and pressed it in both of his.

"Papa, you will think of us, too?" he said inquiringly.

"Yes, indeed, my darlings; you will never be long out of my mind, and
nothing will make me happier than to hear that you are well and doing your
duty faithfully."

"I shall try very hard, papa," Max said, with affectionate look and tone,
"if it is only to please you and make your heart glad."

"Thank you, my son," his father replied, "but I hope a still stronger
motive will be that you may please God and honor Him. Never forget, my
children, that though your earthly father may be far away and know nothing
of your conduct, God's all-seeing eye is ever upon you."

A half hour had passed very quickly and delightfully to the children, when
at length, seeing Gracie's eyelids begin to droop, their father said it
was time for him to carry her up to bed.

"Shall we stay here till you come down again, papa?" asked Max.

"No; you and Lulu may go to bed now."

"Then good-night, papa."

"No, you need not bid me good-night yet," the captain said. "I shall see
you both in your rooms before you are asleep."

"Well, Lu, are you sorry now that papa made you come home so soon?" asked
Max, as they went up-stairs together.

"No, indeed! Haven't we had a nice time, Max? Oh, if only we could keep
papa all the time!"

"I wish we could," said Max. "But we won't have so hard a time as we've
had for the last two years whenever he was away."

They had reached the door of Lulu's room. "Max," she said, turning to him
as with a sudden thought, "what do you suppose papa is coming to our rooms
for?"

"What do _you_ suppose? have you done anything you ought to be punished
for?" asked Max, a little mischievously. "I thought you looked very cross
and rebellious about the hat and about having to come home so soon. I'm
very sure, from what I've heard of Grandpa Dinsmore's strictness, that if
you were his child you'd get a whipping for it."

Lulu looked frightened.

"But, Max, you don't think papa means to punish me for that, do you? He
has been so kind and pleasant since," she said, with a slight tremble in
her voice.

"You'll find out when he comes," laughed Max. "Good-night," and he
hastened away to his own room.

A guilty conscience made Lulu very uneasy as she hurried through her
preparations for bed, and as she heard her father's step approach the door
she grew quite frightened.

He came in and closed it after him. Lulu was standing in her night-dress,
just ready for bed. He caught up a heavy shawl, wrapped it about her, and
seating himself lifted her to his knee.

"Why, how you are trembling!" he exclaimed. "What is the matter?"

"O papa! are you--are you going to punish me for being so naughty this
evening?" she asked, hanging her head while her cheeks grew red.

"That was not my intention in coming in here," he said. "But, Lulu, your
wilfulness is a cause of great anxiety to me. I hardly know what to do
with you. I am very loath to burden our kind friends--Grandpa Dinsmore and
Grandma Elsie--with so rebellious and unmanageable a child, for it will be
painful to them to be severe with you, and yet I see that you will compel
them to it."

"I won't be punished by anybody but you! Nobody else has a right!" burst
out Lulu.

"Yes, my child, I have given them the right, and the only way for you to
escape punishment is not to deserve it. And if you prove too troublesome
for them, you are to be sent to a boarding-school, and that, you will
understand, involves separation from Max and Gracie, and life among total
strangers."

"Papa, you wouldn't, you couldn't be so cruel!" she said, bursting into
tears and hiding her face on his breast.

"I hope you will not be so cruel to yourself as to make it necessary," he
said. "I have fondly hoped you were improving, but your conduct to-night
shows me that you are still a self-willed, rebellious child."

"Well, papa, I've wanted a bird on my hat for ever so long, and I believe
you would have let me have it, too, if Mamma Vi and Grandma Elsie hadn't
said that."

"I shouldn't let you have it, if they were both in favor of it," he said
severely.

"Why, papa?"

"Because of the cruelty it would encourage. And now, Lucilla, I want you
to reflect how very kind it is in Grandpa Dinsmore and Grandma Elsie to be
willing to take my children in and share with them their own delightful
home. You have not the slightest claim upon their kindness, and very few
people in their case would have made such an offer. I really feel almost
ashamed to accept so much without being able to make some return, even if
I knew my children would all behave as dutifully and gratefully as
possible. And knowing how likely your conduct is to be the exact reverse
of that, I can hardly reconcile it to my conscience to let you go with
them to Ion. I am afraid I ought to place you in a boarding-school at
once, before I am ordered away."

"O papa, don't!" she begged. "I'll try to behave better."

"You must promise more than that," he said; "promise me that you will
yield to the authority of your mamma and her mother and grandfather as if
it were mine; obeying their orders and submitting to any punishment they
may see fit to inflict, just as if it were my act."

"Papa, have you said they might punish me?" she asked, with a look of
wounded pride.

"Yes; I have full confidence in their wisdom and kindness. I know they
will not abuse the authority I give them, and I have told them they may
use any measures with my children that they would with their own in the
same circumstances. Are you ready to give the promise I require?"

"Papa, it is too hard!"

"The choice is between that and being sent to boarding-school."

"Oh, it's so hard!" she sobbed.

"Not hard at all if you choose to be good," her father said. "In that case
you will have a delightful life at Ion. Do you make the promise?"

"Yes, sir," she said, as if the words were wrung from her, then hid her
face on his breast again and cried bitterly.

"My little daughter, these are tears of pride and stubbornness," sighed
her father, passing his hand caressingly over her hair, "and you will
never be happy until those evil passions are cast out of your heart. They
are foes which you must fight and conquer by the help of Him who is mighty
to save, or they will cost you the loss of your soul. Any sin unrepented
of and unforsaken will drag you down to eternal death; for the Bible says,
'Without holiness no man shall see the Lord.'"

"Papa," she said, "you are the only person God commands me to obey, and
I'm willing to do that."

"No, it seems not, when my command is that you obey some one else. My
little girl, you need something that I cannot give you; and that is a
change of heart. Go to Jesus for it, daughter; ask Him to wash away all
your sins in His precious blood and to create in you a clean heart and
renew a right spirit within you. He is able and willing to do it, for He
says, 'Him that cometh unto me I will in no wise cast out.' We will kneel
down and ask Him now."

"Papa, I do love you so, I love you dearly, and I _will_ try to be a
better girl," Lulu said, clasping her arms tightly about his neck, as,
having laid her in her bed, he bent down to kiss her good-night.

"I hope so, my darling," he said; "nothing could make me happier than to
know you to be a truly good child, trying to live right that you may
please the dear Saviour who died that you might live."

Max, lying in his bed, was just saying to himself, "I wonder what keeps
papa so long," when he heard his step on the stairs.

"Are you awake, Max?" the captain asked, as he opened the door and came
in.

"Yes, sir," was the cheerful response; "it's early, you know, papa, and
I'm not at all sleepy."

"That is well, for I want a little talk with you," said his father,
sitting down on the side of the bed and taking Max's hand in his.

The talk was on the sin of profanity. Max was told to repeat the third
commandment, then his father called his attention to the words, "The Lord
will not hold him guiltless that taketh His name in vain."

"It is a dreadful and dangerous sin, my son," he said; "a most foolish
sin, too, for there is absolutely nothing to be gained by it; and the
meanest of sins, for what can be meaner than to abuse Him to whom we owe
our being and every blessing we enjoy?"

"Yes, papa, and I--I've done it a good many times. Do you think God will
ever forgive me?" Max asked in trembling tones.

"'He that covereth his sins shall not prosper; but whoso confesseth and
forsaketh them shall have mercy.' 'I, even I, am He that blotteth out thy
transgressions, for mine own sake, and will not remember thy sins,'"
quoted the captain.

"Yes, my son, if you are truly sorry for your sins because committed
against God, and confess them with the determination to forsake them,
asking forgiveness and help to overcome the evil of your nature, for
Jesus' sake, it will be granted you. 'The blood of Jesus Christ, His Son,
cleanseth us from all sin.'"




CHAPTER IV.

    "No day discolored with domestic strife,
     No jealousy, but mutual truth believ'd,
     Secure repose and kindness undeceiv'd."
                             --Dryden.


They were a bright and cheery company in the other house. They had divided
into groups. Mrs. Elsie Travilla sat in a low rocking-chair, between her
father and his wife, with her little grandson on her lap. She doated on
the babe, and was often to be seen with it in her arms. She was now
calling her father's attention to its beauty, and talking of the time when
its mother was an infant, her own precious darling.

On a sofa on the farther side of the room the two sisters, Elsie and
Violet, sat side by side, cosily chatting of things past and present,
while a little removed from them Lester, Edward and Zoe formed another
group.

The two gentlemen were in animated conversation, to which Zoe was a silent
and absorbed listener, especially when her husband spoke; eagerly drinking
in every word that fell from his lips; her face glowing, her eyes
sparkling with proud delight.

"Look at Zoe; Ned certainly has one devoted admirer," remarked Elsie,
regarding her young sister-in-law with a pleased yet half-amused smile.

"Yes," said Violet, "he is a perfect oracle in her esteem; and I believe
everything she does is right in his eyes; indeed, their mutual devotion is
a pretty thing to see. They are scarcely ever apart."

"Don't you think your husband an oracle?" asked Elsie, with a quizzical
look.

"So you have found that out already, have you?" laughed Violet. "Yes, I
do, but then he is wiser than our Ned, you know. Tell me now, don't you
admire him? don't you think him worthy of all honor?"

"I do, indeed, and am proud to have him for a brother-in-law," Elsie said
with earnest sincerity; "but," she added with a smile, "I prefer Lester
for a husband."

"Yes, of course, but Levis is the best of husbands--of fathers, too."

"Rather more strict and stern than ours was, is he not?"

"Yes, but not more so than necessary with a child of Lulu's peculiar
disposition."

"Ah, Vi, I pity you for being a stepmother," Elsie said, with a
compassionate look at her sister.

"You needn't," returned Violet quickly.

"Lulu is the only one of the three that gives me any anxiety or trouble,
and to be Captain Raymond's wife more than compensates for that."

"I suppose so. And Gracie is a dear little thing."

"Yes, she's a darling. And Max is a noble fellow. I hope he will make just
such a man as his father. Don't you think he resembles the captain in
looks?"

"Yes, and I notice he is very chivalrous in his manner toward his young
stepmother."

"Yes," Violet said, with a happy smile, "and more or less to all ladies;
but especially those of this family. He is like his father in that. Zoe
is, I think, a particular favorite with him."

Evidently Zoe had overheard the remark, for she turned in their direction
with a bright look and smile; then springing up came quickly toward them,
and taking possession of a low chair near at hand, "Was it Max you were
talking of, Violet?" she said. "Yes, indeed, I am fond of him. I think
he's a splendid boy. But what was wrong with him to-night?"

"Nothing, so far as I know," said Violet "Why do you think there was?"

"Because he was so unusually quiet; and then his father took him away so
early. Ah, here comes the captain now," as the door opened and Captain
Raymond entered; "so I'll go away and let you have him to yourself."

"You needn't," said Violet, but Zoe was already by Edward's side again.

Elsie, too, rose and went to her mother to ask if she were not weary of
holding the babe.

Violet looked up a little anxiously into her husband's face as she made
room for him on the sofa by her side. "Is anything wrong with the
children, Levis?" she asked in an undertone.

"No, love," he said; "I took them away early that I might have a little
serious talk with the older two. You know I shall not long be afforded the
opportunity."

"But you look troubled," she said, in tenderly sympathizing accents. "May
I not share your care or sorrow, whatever it is?"

"I would rather share only joys and blessings with you, dearest, and keep
the cares and burdens to myself," he answered, smiling lovingly upon her,
and pressing with affectionate warmth the little hand she had placed in
his.

"No, I can't consent to that," she said. "I consider it one of my precious
privileges to be allowed to share your burdens and anxieties. Won't you
tell me what troubles you?"

"It is nothing new, little wife," he answered cheerfully; "but I am
doubting whether I do right to give your mother and grandfather so
troublesome a charge as Lulu. She is almost certain to be wilful and
rebellious occasionally, if not oftener."

Mrs. Travilla had resigned the babe to its mother, and was now standing
near the sofa where the captain and Violet sat.

"Mamma," said the latter, turning to her, "my husband is making himself
miserable with the fear that Lulu will prove too troublesome to you and
grandpa."

"Please do not, captain," Elsie said brightly, accepting the easy-chair he
hastened to bring forward for her. "Why should I not have a little trouble
as well as other people? Lulu is an attractive child to me, very bright
and original, a little headstrong, perhaps, but I shall lay siege to her
heart and try to rule her through her affections."

"I think that will be the better plan," he said, the look of care lifting
from his brow; "she is a warm-hearted child, and more easily led than
driven. But she is sometimes very impertinent, and I would by no means
have her indulged in that. I wish you would promise me never to let it
pass without punishment. She must be taught respect for authority and for
her superiors."

Elsie's face had grown very grave while he was speaking. "What punishment
do you prescribe?" she asked. "The child is yours."

"That should depend upon the heinousness of the offence," he replied. "I
can only say, please treat her exactly as if she were your own."

Mr. and Mrs. Dinsmore now joined them, and the question what studies the
children should pursue during the coming winter was discussed and settled.
Then the captain spoke of reading matter, asked advice in regard to
suitable books and periodicals, and begged his friends to have a careful
oversight of all the mental food of his children.

"You could not intrust that matter to a more wise and capable person than
papa," Elsie said, with an affectionate, smiling look at her father. "I
well remember how strict he was with me in my childhood; novels were
coveted but forbidden sweets."

"You must have been glad when you were old enough to read them, mamma,"
remarked Zoe, joining the circle.

"You read far too many, my little woman," said Mr. Dinsmore, pinching her
rosy cheek. "If I were Edward, I should curtail the supply, and try to
cultivate a taste for something better."

"But I'm a married woman and sha'n't submit to being treated like a child,
grandpa," she said, with a little pout and a toss of her pretty head.

"Not even by me?" asked Edward, leaning down over her as he stood behind
her chair.

"No, not even by you," she returned saucily, looking up into his face with
laughing eyes. "I'm your wife, sir, not your child."

"Both, I should say," laughed Edward. "I remember that I was considered a
mere child at your age. And whatever you are you belong to me, don't you?"

"Yes; and you to me just as much," she retorted, and at that there was a
general laugh.

The captain had said nothing of the objectionable reading matter found in
his children's hands that day, but when alone with Violet in their own
room, he told her all about it, blaming himself severely for not having
been so watchful over them as he ought, and expressing his distress over
the discovery that Max had sometimes been guilty of profanity.

"I do not know whether it has become a habit with him," he said, "but, my
dear, I beg of you to watch him closely when I am away, and if he is ever
known to offend in that way, see that he is properly punished."

"But how, Levis?" she asked, with a troubled look. "I don't know what I
can do but talk seriously to him about the wickedness of it."

"I hope you will do that, my dear. I have no doubt it would have an
excellent effect, for he loves and admires you greatly. But let him be
punished by being separated, for at least a week, from the rest of the
family, as unworthy to associate with them."

"Oh, that would be very hard, very humiliating for a proud, sensitive,
affectionate boy like Max!" she exclaimed. "May we not be a little more
lenient toward him?" and she looked up pleadingly into her husband's face.

"No," he said with decision; "but I strongly hope there will be no
occasion for such punishment, as he seems sincerely penitent and quite
determined not to offend in that way again. I really think my boy wants to
do right, but he is a heedless, thoughtless fellow, often going wrong from
mere carelessness and forgetfulness. But he must be taught to think and to
remember."

"I wish he could have his father's constant care and control," sighed
Violet.

"I wish he could indeed!" responded the captain; "but principally because
I fear he will prove a care and trouble to your grandfather and mother,
who, I am inclined to think, are more capable than I of giving him proper
training. I shall go away feeling easier in regard to my children's
welfare than I ever have before since they lost their mother."

"I am very glad of that, Levis," Violet said, her eyes shining with
pleasure, "and I do believe they will have a happy life at Ion."

"It will certainly be their own fault if they do not," he replied.

       *       *       *       *       *

Rose Travilla was somewhat less amiable in disposition than her mother and
older sisters, and had been much disgusted with Lulu's exhibition of
temper that evening.

Talking with her mother afterward in her dressing-room, "Mamma," she said,
"I wish you hadn't offered to let Lulu Raymond live with us at Ion. I
don't at all like the way she behaves, and I wish you and grandpa would
tell her father to send her off to boarding-school."

"That is an unkind wish, Rose," said her mother. "Perhaps if you had had
the same treatment Lulu has been subjected to since her mother's death,
you might have shown as bad a temper as hers. Haven't you some pity for
the little girl, when you reflect that she is motherless?"

"I don't think she could have a sweeter mother than our Vi," was the
unexpected rejoinder. "But she doesn't appreciate her in the least," Rose
went on, "but seems always on the watch against any effort on Vi's part to
control her."

"She seems to be naturally impatient of control by whomsoever exerted,"
Mrs. Travilla said, "but we will hope to see her improve in that respect,
and you must set her a good example, Rose.

"And I want you to think how sad it would be for her to be parted from the
brother and sister she loves so dearly and sent away alone to
boarding-school. I shall never forget how alarmed and distressed I was
when your grandpa threatened me with one."

"Did he, mamma?" asked Rosie, opening her eyes very wide with surprise.

"Yes, he was very much displeased with me at the time," her mother said
with a sigh. "But we will not talk about it; the recollection is very
painful to me."

"No, mamma; but I cannot get over my astonishment, for I thought you were
never naughty, even when you were a little child."

"Quite a mistake, Rosie; I had my naughty times as well as other
children," Mrs. Travilla said, smiling at Rosie's bewildered look. "But
now I want you to promise me, my child, that you will be kind and
forbearing toward poor little motherless Lulu."

"Well, mamma, to please you I will; but I hope she won't try me too much
by impertinence to you or Violet. I don't think I can stand it if she
does.

"Try to win her love, Rosie, and then you may be able to influence her
strongly for good."

"I don't know how to begin, mamma."

"Force your thoughts to dwell on the good points in her character, and
think compassionately of the respects in which she is less fortunate than
yourself, and you will soon find a feeling of love toward her springing up
in your heart; and love begets love. Do her some kindness, daughter, and
that will help you to love her and to gain her love."

"Well, mamma, I shall try if only to please you. But do tell me, did
grandpa punish you very severely when you were naughty?"

"His punishment was seldom anything more severe than the gentle rebuke, 'I
am not pleased with you,' but I think I felt it more than many a child
would a whipping; I did so dearly love my father that his displeasure was
terrible to me."

"Yes, I know you and he love each other dearly yet, and he often says you
were a very good, conscientious little girl."

"But to return to Lulu," said Mrs. Travilla, "I had thought she would be a
nice companion for you, and until this evening I have not seen her show
any naughty temper since the first week she was here."

"No, mamma, she has been quite well-behaved, I believe, and perhaps she
will prove a pleasant companion. I am sorry for her, too, because she
hasn't a dear, wise, kind mother like mine," Rosie added, putting her
arms about her mother's neck, "and because the father, I am sure she loves
very much, must soon go away and leave her."




CHAPTER V.

    "Farewell, God knows when we shall meet again."
                              --Shakespeare.


The next morning the captain and Max were out together on the beach before
Violet and the little girls had left their rooms. The lad liked to be
alone with his father sometimes. He had always been proud and fond of him,
and the past few months of constant intercourse had greatly strengthened
the bonds of affection between them. The boy's heart was sore at thought
of the parting that must soon come, the captain's hardly less so. He
talked very kindly with his son, urging him to make the best use of his
time, talents and opportunities, and grow up to be a good, honorable and
useful man.

"I want to be just such a man as you are, papa," Max said, with an
admiring, affectionate look up into his father's face, and slipping his
hand into his as he spoke.

The captain clasped the hand lovingly in his, and held it fast.

"I hope you will be a better and more talented man, my boy," he said,
"but always remember my most ardent wish is to see you a truly good man, a
Christian, serving God with all your powers."

At this moment a voice behind them said, "Good-mornin', cap'n. I'se got a
lettah hyah for you, sah."

"Ah, good-morning, Ben, and thank you for bringing it," said the captain,
turning round to receive it.

"You's bery welcom, sah," responded Ben, touching his hat respectfully,
then walking away toward Mr. Dinsmore's cottage.

"From Washington," the captain remarked, more to himself than to Max, as
he broke the seal.

Max watched him while he read, then asked, a little tremulously, "Must you
go very soon, papa?"

"Within three days, my boy. But we won't say anything about it until after
prayers, but let Mamma Vi and your sisters enjoy their breakfast in
peace."

"Yes, sir. Papa, I wish I was going with you!"

"But think how your sisters would miss you, Max."

"Yes, sir, I suppose they would. I hadn't thought of that."

"Besides, I want you to take my place to Mamma Vi as nearly as you can,"
added his father, looking smilingly at him.

"O papa, thank you!" cried the boy, his face growing bright with pleased
surprise. "I will try my very best and do all for her that I can."

"I don't doubt it, my son. And now let us go in, for it must be
breakfast-time, I think."

Lulu and Grace ran out to the veranda to meet them with a glad,
"Good-morning, papa," and holding up their faces for a kiss.

It was bestowed heartily, as he stooped and gathered them in his arms,
saying in tender tones, "Good-morning, my dear little daughters."

The breakfast bell was ringing, and they hastened to obey its summons.
They found Violet already in the dining-room, and looking sweet and fresh
as a rose, in a pretty, becoming morning dress.

The captain chatted cheerfully with her and the children while he ate,
seeming to enjoy his beefsteak, muffins and coffee; but Max scarcely
spoke, and occasionally had some difficulty in swallowing his food because
of the lump that would rise in his throat at the thought of the parting
now drawing so near.

Directly after breakfast came family worship. Then as Violet and her
husband stood together before the window looking out upon the sea, he
gave her his Washington letter to read.

She glanced over it, while he put his arm about her waist.

"O Levis, so soon!" she said tremulously, looking up at him with eyes full
of tears, then her head dropped upon his shoulder, and the tears began to
fall.

He soothed her with caresses and low-breathed words of endearment; of
hope, too, that the separation might not be a long one.

"What is it, Max?" whispered Lulu, "has papa got his orders?"

"Yes; and has to be off in less than three days," replied Max, in husky
tones, and hastily brushing away a tear.

Lulu's eyes filled, but by a great effort she kept the tears from falling.

The captain turned toward them. "We are going into the other house,
children," he said. "You can come with us if you wish."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir," they said, and Grace ran to her father and put
her hand in his.

They found the Dinsmore and Travilla family all assembled in the parlor,
discussing plans for the day, all of which were upset by the captain's
news.

His ship lay in Boston harbor, and it was promptly decided that they would
all leave to-day for that city, only a few hours' distant.

As the cottages had been rented furnished, and all had for days past held
themselves in readiness for sudden departure, this would afford ample time
for the necessary packing and other arrangements.

All was presently bustle and activity in both houses. Zoe and Edward, with
no painful parting in prospect, made themselves very merry over their
packing. They were much like two children, and except when overcome by the
recollection of her recent bereavement, Zoe was as playful and frolicsome
as a kitten.

"Can I help, Mamma Vi?" asked Lulu, following Violet into her
dressing-room.

Vi considered a moment. "You are a dear child to want to help," she said,
smiling kindly upon the little girl. "I don't think you can pack your
trunk, but you can be of use here by handing me things out of the bureau
drawers and wardrobe. There are so many trunks to pack that I cannot think
of leaving Agnes to do it all."

"My dear," said the captain, coming in at that moment, "you are not to do
anything but sit in that easy-chair and give directions. I flatter myself
that I am quite an expert in this line."

"Can you fold ladies' dresses so that they will carry without rumpling?"
asked Violet, looking up at him with a saucy smile.

"Perhaps not. I can't say I ever tried that. Agnes may do that part of the
work, and I will attend to the rest."

"And may I hand you the things, papa?" asked Lulu.

"Yes, daughter," he said, "I like to see you trying to be useful."

They set to work, Violet looking on with interest. "Why, you are an
excellent packer, Levis," she remarked presently, "far better than I or
Agnes either."

"Thank you," he said, "I am very glad to be able to save you the
exertion."

"And you do it so rapidly," she said. "It would have taken me twice as
long."

"That is partly because I am much stronger, and partly the result of a
good deal of practice. And Lulu is quite a help," he added, with an
affectionate look at her.

She flushed with pleasure. "Are you going to pack the other trunks, papa?
Max's and Grade's and mine? And may I help you with them?" she asked.

"Yes, is my answer to both questions," he returned.

"Where are Max and Gracie?" asked Violet.

"I told Max to take his little sister to the beach, and take care of and
amuse her," the captain said in answer to the question.

"Don't you want to be out at play, too, Lulu?" asked Violet. "I can help
your papa."

"No, ma'am, thank you," the child answered in a quick, emphatic way. "I'd
a great deal rather be with papa to-day than playing."

He gave her a pleased look and smile, and Violet said, "That is nice,
Lulu; I am very glad his children love him so."

"Indeed we do, Mamma Vi! every one of us!" exclaimed Lulu. "Papa knows we
do. Don't you, papa?"

"Yes, I am quite sure of it," he said. "And that my wife is fond of me
also," with a smiling glance at her, "and altogether it makes me a very
happy man."

"As you deserve to be," said Violet, gayly. "Please, sir, will you allow
me to fold my dresses?"

"No, for here comes Agnes," as the maid entered the room, "who, I dare
say, can do it better. Come, Lulu, we will go now to your room."

Violet stayed where she was to direct and assist Agnes, and Lulu was glad,
because she wanted to be alone with her father for a while.

When her trunk was packed he turned to leave the room, but she detained
him. "Papa," she said, clinging to his hand, "I--I want to speak to you."

He sat down and drew her to his side, putting an arm about her waist.
"Well, daughter, what is it?" he asked kindly, stroking the hair back from
her forehead with the other hand.

"Papa, I--I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry for----" she stammered, her
eyes drooping, her cheeks growing crimson.

"Sorry for your former naughtiness and rebellion?" he asked gently, as she
paused, leaving her sentence unfinished.

"Yes, papa, I couldn't bear to let you go away without telling you so
again."

"Well, daughter, it was all forgiven long ago, and you have been a pretty
good girl most of the time since that first sad week."

"Papa, I do want to be good," she said earnestly, "but somehow the badness
will get the better of me."

"Yes; each one of us has an evil nature to fight against," he said, "and
it will get the better of us unless we are very determined and battle with
it, not in our own strength only, but crying mightily for assistance to
Him who has said, 'In me is thine help.'

"We must watch and pray, my child. The Bible bids us keep our hearts with
all diligence, and set a watch at the door of our lips that we sin not
with our tongues. Also to pray without ceasing. We need to cry often to
God for help to overcome the evil that is in our own hearts, and the
snares of the world and the devil, 'who goeth about as a roaring lion
seeking whom he may devour.'"

"Papa," she said, looking up into his face, "do you find it hard to be
good sometimes?"

"Yes, my child; I have the same battle to fight that you have, and I am
the more sorry for you because I know by experience how difficult it
sometimes is to do right."

"And you have to help me by punishing me when I'm naughty, and making me
do as I ought?"

"Yes, and my battle is sometimes for patience with a naughty, disobedient
child."

"I think you were very patient with me that time you kept me shut up so
long in this room," she said. "If I'd been in your place I'd have got a
good switch and whipped my little girl till I made her obey me at once."

"Do you think that would have been the better plan?"

"No, sir. I think you'd have had to 'most kill me before I'd have given
up, but if I'd been in your place I couldn't have had patience to wait."

"You need to cultivate the grace of patience, then," he said gravely. "Now
come with me to Max's room, and let us see if we can pack up his goods and
chattels."

"Papa, I almost think I could pack it myself after watching you pack all
these others."

"Possibly; but I shall do it more quickly, with you to help in getting all
the things together."

Every one was ready in due season for departure, and that night the two
cottages that for months past had been so full of light and life, were
dark, silent and deserted.

Arriving in Boston, the whole party took rooms at one of the principal
hotels. There they spent the night, but the greater part of the next day
was passed on board the captain's vessel.

The day after the parting came; a very hard one for him, his young wife
and children. Little feeble Gracie cried herself sick, and Violet found it
necessary to put aside the indulgence of her own grief in order to comfort
the nearly heart-broken child, who clung to her as she might have done to
her own mother.

Max and Lulu made no loud lament, but their quiet, subdued manner and sad
countenances told of deep and sincere sorrow, and, in truth, they often
felt ready to join in Gracie's oft-repeated cry, "Oh, how can I do without
my dear, dear papa?"

But they were with kind friends. Every one in the party showed them
sympathy, pretty presents were made them, and they were taken to see all
the sights of the city likely to interest them.

Grandma Elsie particularly endeared herself to them at this time by her
motherly tenderness and care, treating them as if they were her own
children.

Their father had given each two parting gifts, a handsome pocket Bible,
with the injunction to commit at least one verse to memory every day, and
a pretty purse with some spending money in it; for he knew they would
enjoy making purchases for themselves when visiting the city stores with
the older people.

So they did; and Lulu, who was generous to a fault, had soon spent her all
in gifts for others; a lovely new doll for Gracie, some books for Max, a
bottle of perfumery for "Mamma Vi," and a toy for Walter.

Violet was much pleased with the present to herself as an evidence of
growing affection. She received it with warm thanks and a loving embrace.
"My dear child, it was very kind in you to think of me!" she said. "It
makes me hope you have really given me a little place in your heart,
dear."

"Oh, yes, Mamma Vi, indeed I have!" cried the little girl, returning the
embrace. "Surely we ought all to love you when you love our dear father so
much, and he loves you, too."

"Certainly," said Max, who was standing by; "we couldn't help loving so
sweet and pretty a lady if she was nothing at all to us and we lived in
the same house with her, and how can we think she's any less nice and
sweet just because she's married to our father?"

"And how can I help loving you because you are the children of my dear
husband?" responded Violet, taking the boy's hand and pressing it warmly
in hers.

Some hours later Violet accidentally overheard part of a conversation
between her little sister Rose and Lulu.

"Yes," Rosie was saying, "mamma gives me fifty cents a week for spending
money."

"Ah, how nice!" exclaimed Lulu. "Papa often gives us some money, but not
regularly, and Max and I have often talked together about how much we
would like to have a regular allowance. I'd be delighted, even if it
wasn't more than ten cents."

Violet had been wishing to give the children something, and trying to find
out what would be most acceptable, so was greatly pleased with the hint
given her by this little speech of Lulu's.

The child came presently to her side to bid her good-night. Violet put an
arm around her, and kissing her affectionately, said, "Lulu, I have been
thinking you might like to have an allowance of pocket money, as Rosie
has. Would you?"

"O Mamma Vi! I'd like it better than anything else I can think of!" cried
the little girl, her face sparkling with delight.

"Then you shall have it and begin now," Violet said, taking out her purse
and putting two bright silver quarters into Lulu's hand.

"Oh, thank you, mamma, how good and kind in you!" cried the child.

"Max shall have the same," said Violet, "and Gracie half as much for the
present. When she is a little older it shall be doubled. Don't you want
the pleasure of telling Max, and taking this to him?" she asked, putting
another half dollar into Lulu's hand.

"Oh yes, ma'am! Thank you very much!"

Max was on the farther side of the room--a good-sized parlor of the hotel
where they were staying--very much absorbed in a story-book; Lulu
approached him softly, a gleeful smile on her lips and in her eyes, and
laid his half dollar on the open page.

"What's that for?" he asked, looking round at her.

"For you; and you're to have as much every week, Mamma Vi says."

"O Lu! am I, really?"

"Yes; I too; and Gracie's to have a quarter."

"Oh, isn't it splendid!" he cried, and hurried to Violet to pour out his
thanks.

Grandma Elsie, seated on the sofa by Violet's side, shared with her the
pleasure of witnessing the children's delight.

Our friends had now spent several days in Boston, and the next morning
they left for Philadelphia, where they paid a short visit to relatives.
This was their last halt on the journey home to Ion.




CHAPTER VI.

    "--to the guiltless heart, where'er we roam,
     No scenes delight us like our much-loved home."
                          --Robert Hillhouse.


Elsie and her children had greatly enjoyed their summer at the North, but
now were filled with content and happiness at the thought of soon seeing
again their loved home at Ion, while Max and Lulu looked forward with
pleasing anticipations and eager curiosity to their first sight of it,
having heard various glowing descriptions of it from "Mamma Vi" and Rosie.

Their father, too, had spoken of it as a home so delightful that they
ought to feel the liveliest gratitude for having been invited to share its
blessings.

It was looking very beautiful, very inviting, on the arrival of our
travellers late in the afternoon of a warm, bright October day.

The woods and the trees that bordered the avenue were in the height of
their autumn glory, the gardens gay with many flowers of the most varied
and brilliant hues, and the lengthening shadows slept on a still green
and velvety lawn.

As their carriage turned into the avenue, Elsie bent an affectionate,
smiling look upon Max and Lulu, and taking a hand of each, said in
sweetest tones, "Welcome to your new home, my dears, and may it prove to
you a very, very happy one."

"Thank you, ma'am," they both responded, Max adding, "I am very glad,
Grandma Elsie, that I am to live with you and Mamma Vi."

"I, too," said Lulu; "and in such a pretty place. Oh, how lovely
everything does look!"

The air was delightful, and doors and windows stood wide open. On the
veranda a welcoming group was gathered. Elsie's brother and sister--Horace
Dinsmore, Jr., of the Oaks, and Mrs. Rose Lacey from the Laurels--and her
cousins Calhoun and Arthur Conly; while a little in the rear of them were
the servants, all--from old Uncle Joe, now in his ninety-fifth year, down
to Betty, his ten-year-old great-granddaughter--showing faces full of
eager delight.

They stood back respectfully till greetings had been exchanged between
relatives and friends, then pressed forward with their words of welcome,
sure of a shake of the hand and kind word from each member of the family.

Mr. Dinsmore held little Gracie in his arms. She was much fatigued and
exhausted by the long journey.

"Here is a patient for you, Arthur," he said, "and I am very glad you are
here to attend to her."

"Yes," said Violet, "her father charged me to put her in your care."

"Then let her be put immediately to bed," said Arthur, after a moment's
scrutiny of the child. "Give her to me, uncle, and I will carry her
up-stairs."

"To my room," added Violet.

But the child shrunk from the stranger, and clung to Mr. Dinsmore.

"No, thank you, I will take her up myself," he said. "I am fully equal to
it," and he moved on through the hall and up the broad stairway, Violet
and the doctor following.

The others presently scattered to their rooms to rid themselves of the
dust of travel and dress for the evening.

"Well, little wife, is it nice to be at home again?" Edward asked, with a
smiling look at Zoe, as they entered their apartments.

"Yes, indeed!" she cried, sending a swift glance around the neat and
tastefully furnished room, "especially such a home, and to be shared with
such nice people; one in particular who shall be nameless," she added,
with an arch look and smile.

"One who hopes you will never tire of his company, as he never expects to
of yours," returned Edward, catching her in his arms and snatching a kiss
from her full red lips.

"Now don't," she said, pushing him away, "just wait till I've washed the
dust from my face. Here come our trunks," as two of the men servants
brought them in, "and you must tell me what dress to put on."

"You look so lovely in any and every one of the dozen or more that I have
small choice in the matter," laughed the young husband.

"What gross flattery!" she exclaimed. "Well, then, I suppose I'll have to
choose for myself. But you mustn't complain if I do that some time when
you don't want me to."

The two Elsies had lingered a little behind the others--the old servants
had so many words of welcome to say to them--the younger one in especial,
because she had been so far and so long away.

And the babe must be handed about from one to another, kissed and blessed
and remarked upon as to his real or fancied resemblance to this or that
older member of the family.

"It do 'pear pow'ful strange, Miss Elsie, dat you went away young lady and
come back wid husband and baby," remarked Aunt Dicey. "And it don't seem
but yistiday dat you was a little bit ob a gal."

"Yes, I have come back a great deal richer than I went," Elsie returned,
with a glance of mingled love and joy, first at her husband, then at her
infant son. "I have great reason to be thankful."

At that moment Mrs. Travilla became aware that Max and Lulu were lingering
near, as if not knowing exactly what to do with themselves.

"Ah, my dears," she said, turning to them with a kind and pleasant look,
"has no one attended to you? Come with me, and I will show you your
rooms."

They followed her up the stairs, and each was shown into a very pleasant
room furnished tastefully and with every comfort and convenience.

Lulu's had two doors, one opening into the hall, the other into her
mamma's bedroom.

Elsie explained this, adding, "So, if you are in want of anything or
should feel frightened or lonely in the night, you can run right in to the
room where you will find your mamma and Gracie."

"Yes, ma'am, that is very nice; and oh, what a pretty room! How kind and
good you are to me! and to my brother and sister, too!" cried Lulu, her
eyes shining with gratitude and pleasure.

"I am very glad to be able to do it," Elsie said, taking the little
girl's hand in one of hers and smoothing her hair caressingly with the
other--for Lulu had taken off her hat. "I want to be a mother to you, dear
child, and to your brother and sister, since my dear daughter is too young
for so great care and responsibility. I love you all, and I want you to
come freely to me with all your troubles and perplexities, your joys and
sorrows, just as my own children have always done. I want you to feel that
you have a right to do so, because I have invited you."

She bent down and kissed Lulu's lips, and the little girl threw her arms
about her neck with impulsive warmth, saying, "Dear Grandma Elsie, I love
you and thank you ever so much! And I mean to try ever so hard to be
good," she added, with a blush and hanging her head shamefacedly. "I know
I'm often very naughty; papa said I gave him more anxiety than Max and
Gracie both put together; and I'm afraid I can't be good all the time, but
I do mean to try hard."

"Well, dear, if you try with all your might, asking help from on high, you
will succeed at last," Elsie said. "And now I will leave you to wash and
dress. I see your trunk has been brought up and opened, so that you will
have no difficulty."

With that she passed on into Violet's rooms to see how Gracie was. She
found her sleeping sweetly in Violet's bed, the latter bending over her
with a very tender, motherly look on her fair young face.

"Is she not a darling, mamma?" she whispered, turning her head at the
sound of her mother's light footstep.

"She is a very engaging child," replied Elsie. "I think we are all fond of
her, but you especially."

"Yes, mamma, I love her for herself--her gentle, affectionate
disposition--but still more because she is my husband's child, his dear
baby girl, as he so often called her."

"Ah, I can understand that," Elsie said, with a loving though rather sad
look and smile into Violet's azure eyes, "for I have often felt just so in
regard to my own children. What does Arthur say about her?"

"That she is more in need of rest and sleep than anything else at present.
He will see her again to-morrow, and will probably be able then to give me
full directions in regard to her diet and so forth."

"You will come down to supper? you will not think it necessary to stay
with her yourself?" Elsie said inquiringly.

"Oh, no, mamma! I shall dress at once. I should not like to miss being
with you all," Violet answered, moving away from the bedside. "Ah!" with
sudden recollection, "I have been quite forgetting Max and Lulu."

"I have seen them to their rooms," her mother said, "and now I must go and
attend to Rosie and Walter, and to my own toilet."

"Dear mamma, thank you!" Violet said heartily.

"My dear, I consider them quite as much my children, and therefore my
especial charge, as yours, perhaps a trifle more," Elsie returned with
sprightly look and tone as she left the room.

Agnes was in attendance on her young mistress, and was presently sent to
ask if Lulu was in need of help, and to say that her mamma would like to
see her before she went down-stairs.

"I don't need anything till I'm ready to have my sash tied," answered
Lulu, "and then I'll come in to Mamma Vi and you to have it done. She was
very good to send you, Agnes, and you to come."

"La! chile, it's jus' my business to mind Miss Wilet," returned Agnes.
"An' she's good to eberybody, ob cose--always was."

"What did you want to see me for, Mamma Vi?" asked Lulu, as she presently
entered her young stepmother's dressing-room.

"Just to make sure that your hair and dress are all right, dear. You know
we have company to-night, and I am particularly anxious that my little
Lulu shall look her very best."

The child's face flushed with pleasure. She liked to be well and
becomingly dressed, and it was gratifying to have Mamma Vi care that she
should be. Mrs. Scrimp was so different; she had never cared whether
Lulu's attire was tasteful and becoming or quite the reverse, but always
roused the child's indignation by telling her it was all sufficient if she
were only neat and clean.

"Am I all right?" she asked.

"Pretty nearly; we will have you quite so in a minute," Violet answered.
"Tie her sash Agnes, and smooth down the folds of her dress."

"Mamma Vi, is that strange lady any relation to you?" asked Lulu.

"Yes, she is my aunt, mamma's sister."

"She is pretty, but not nearly so pretty as Grandma Elsie."

"No; I have always thought no one else could be half so beautiful as
mamma."

"Why, Mamma Vi, you are yourself!" exclaimed Lulu in a tone of honest
sincerity that made Violet laugh.

"That is just your notion, little girl," she said, giving the child a
kiss.

"Oh, I have eyes and can see! besides, papa thinks so, too, and Max and
Gracie."

"Yes, my dear husband! he loves me, and love is very blind," murmured Vi,
half to herself, with a sigh and a far-off look in the lovely azure eyes.
Her thoughts were following him over the deep, wide, treacherous sea.

She stole on tiptoe into the next room for another peep at his sleeping
baby girl, Lulu going with her; then hearing the tea-bell, they went down
to the dining-room together.

They gathered about the table, a large cheerful party, the travellers full
of satisfaction in being at home again, the others so glad to have them
there once more.

Zoe was very merry and Rosie in almost wild spirits, but Max and Lulu, to
whom all was new and strange, were quite quiet and subdued, scarcely
speaking except when spoken to, "Mamma," Rosie said, when they had
adjourned to the parlor, "it's lovely out of doors, bright moonlight and
not a bit cold; mayn't I take Max and Lulu down to the lakelet?"

"Do you think the evening air would be injurious to them, Arthur?" Mrs.
Travilla asked, turning to her cousin.

"I think there is malaria in it, and would advise them to stay within
doors until after breakfast to-morrow morning," he answered, drawing Rose
to a seat upon his knee.

"Then you'd better let us go," she said archly, "so you can have some
more patients. Don't you like to have plenty of patients?"

"That's a leading question, little coz," he said laughingly, toying with
her curls. "When people are sick I like to have an opportunity to exercise
my skill in trying to relieve and cure them, but I hope I don't want them
made sick in order to furnish me with employment."

"I want to show Lulu and Max the beauties of Ion, and don't know how to
wait till to-morrow," she said.

"Then take them about from one room to another, and let them look out
through the windows upon its moonlit lawn, alleys, gardens and lakelet."

"Oh, yes, yes! that will do!" she cried, leaving his knee in haste to
carry out his suggestion.

Max and Lulu, nothing loath, accepted her invitation, and they ran in and
out, up stairs and down, the young strangers delighted with the views thus
obtained of their new home and its surroundings.

Rosie said she hoped they would not be required to begin lessons
immediately, but would be allowed a few days in which to enjoy walks,
rides, drives, and boating.

"I'll ask grandpa and mamma if we may," she added, as they re-entered the
parlor. She hastened to present her petition, and it was granted; the
children were told they should have a week in which to enjoy themselves
and recover from the fatigue of their journey, and would be expected to
show their appreciation of the indulgence by great industry afterward.

Lulu was standing a little apart from the rest, gazing out of the window
upon the moonlit lawn, when a step drew near; then some one took her by
the arm, and in a twinkling she found herself seated upon a gentleman's
knee.

Looking up into his face, she saw that it was Mr. Horace Dinsmore who had
thus taken possession of her.

"Well, my little dark-eyed lassie," he said, "no one has thought it worth
while to introduce us, but we won't let that hinder our making
acquaintance. Do you know who I am?"

"I heard Rosie call you Uncle Horace."

"Then suppose you follow Rosie's example. If you are as good as you are
bonny, I shall be proud to claim you as my niece."

"But I'm not," she said frankly. Then hastily correcting herself, "I don't
mean to say I'm bonny, but I'm not good. Aunt Beulah used to say I was the
worst child she ever saw."

"Indeed! you are honest, at all events," he said, with a look of
amusement. "And who is Aunt Beulah?"

"The person Gracie and I lived with before papa got married to Mamma Vi."

"Ah! well I shall not regard her opinion, but wait and form one for
myself, and I shall certainly be much surprised if you don't turn out a
pattern good girl, now that you are to live with my sweet sister Elsie. In
the mean while, will it please you to call me Uncle Horace?"

"Yes, sir, since you ask me to," Lulu replied, looking much gratified.

At this moment the door opened, and Mr. Lacey walked in. He had come for
his wife, and when he and the others had exchanged greetings, she rose to
make ready for departure.

Calhoun Conly rose also, saying to his brother, "Well, Art, perhaps it
would be as well for us to go, too; our friends must be tired after their
long journey, and will want to get to bed early."

"Suppose you all delay a little and unite with us in evening family
worship," said Mr. Dinsmore. "It is a good while since I have had all
three of my children present with me at such a service."

All complied with his request, and immediately afterward took leave. Then
with an exchange of affectionate good-nights the family separated and
scattered to their rooms.

Lulu was not quite ready for bed when Violet came in, and putting her arm
around her, asked, with a gentle kiss, "Do you feel strange and lonely in
this new place, little girl?"

"Oh, no, Mamma Vi! it seems such a nice home that I am very glad to be in
it."

"That is right," Violet said, repeating her caress. "I hope you will sleep
well and wake refreshed. I shall leave the door open between your room and
mine, so that you need not feel timid, and can run right in to me whenever
you wish. Good-night, dear."

"Good-night, Mamma Vi. Thank you for being so good to me, and to Gracie
and Max," Lulu said, clinging to her in an affectionate way.

"My child," returned Violet, "how could I be anything else to the children
of my dear husband? Ah, I must go! Mamma calls me," she added, hurrying
away as a soft, sweet voice was heard coming from the adjoining room.

Lulu finished undressing, said her prayers, and had just laid her head on
her pillow, when some one glided noiselessly to the bedside and a soft
hand passed caressingly over her hair.

The child opened her eyes, which had already closed in sleep, and saw by
the moonlight a sweet and beautiful face bending lovingly over her.

"Grandma Elsie," she murmured sleepily.

"Yes, dear. Rosie and Walter never like to go to sleep without a
good-night kiss from mamma, and you must have the same now, as you are to
be one of my dear children."

Lulu, now wide awake, started up to put both arms round the neck of her
visitor. "Oh, I do love you!" she said, "and I'll try hard to be a good
child to you."

"I believe it, dear," Elsie said, pressing the child to her heart. "Will
you join my children in their half-hour with mamma in her dressing-room
before breakfast? I shall be glad to have you, but you must do just as you
please about it."

"Thank you, ma'am; I'll come," said Lulu.

"That is right. Now lie down and go to sleep. You need a long night's
rest."




CHAPTER VII.

    "Her fancy followed him through foaming wares
     To distant shores."
                                --Cowper.


Violet in her night-dress and with her beautiful hair unbound and hanging
about her like a golden cloud, stood before her dressing-table, gazing
through a mist of unshed tears upon a miniature which she held in her
hand.

"Ah, where are you now, love?" she sighed half aloud.

Her mother's voice answered close at her side, in gentle, tender accents,
"In God's keeping, my darling. He is the God of the sea as well as of the
land."

"Yes, mamma, and his God as well as mine," Violet responded, looking up
and smiling through her tears. "Ah, what comfort in both assurances, and
in the precious promise, 'Behold, I am with thee, and will keep thee in
all places whither thou goest.' It is his and it is mine."

"Yes, dearest. I feel for you in your loneliness," her mother said,
putting her arms around her. "Elsie is very happy in her husband and
baby, Edward in his wife; they need me but little, comparatively, but you
and I must draw close together and be a comfort and support to each other;
shall we not, my love?"

"Yes, indeed, dearest mamma. Oh, what a comfort and blessing you are to
me, and always have been! And I am happier and less lonely for having my
husband's children with me, especially my darling little Gracie. I feel
that in caring for her and nursing her back to health I shall be adding to
his happiness."

"As no doubt you will," her mother said. "It will be a pleasure to me to
help you care for her, and the others also. Now, good-night, daughter; we
both ought to be in bed."

Violet presently stretched herself beside the sleeping Gracie with a
murmured word of endearment drew the child closer to her, and in another
moment was sharing her slumbers.

When she awoke the sun was shining, and the first object her eyes rested
upon was the little face by her side. The pallor and look of exhaustion it
had worn the night before were quite gone, a faint tinge of pink had even
stolen into the cheeks.

Violet noted the change with a feeling of relief and thankfulness, and
raising herself upon her elbow, touched her lips lightly to the white
forehead.

The child's eyes flew open and with a sweet engaging smile, she asked,
"Have you been lying beside me all night, mamma?"

"Yes, Gracie. You have had a long sleep, dear; do you feel quite rested?"

"Yes, mamma, I feel very well. This is such a nice soft bed, and I like to
sleep with you. May I always?"

"For all winter, I think, dear. I like to have your papa's baby girl by my
side."

"I'm very much obliged to him for finding me such a sweet, pretty new
mamma. I told him so one day," remarked the child innocently, putting an
arm about Vi's neck.

"Did you?" Violet asked with an amused smile; "and what did he say?"

"Nothing; he just smiled and hugged me tight and kissed me ever so many
times. Do you know what made him do that, mamma?"

"Because he likes to have us love one another. And so we will, won't we,
dear?"

"Yes, indeed! Mamma, I feel a little hungry."

"I'm glad to hear it, for here comes Agnes with a glass of nice rich milk
for you. And when you have drunk it she will wash and dress you. We will
all have to hurry a little to be ready in good time for breakfast," she
added, springing from the bed and beginning her toilet. "Grandpa Dinsmore
never likes to have us late."

"Miss Rosie and Miss Lulu's up and dressed and gone into Miss Elsie's
room, Miss Wilet," remarked Agnes, holding the tumbler she had brought to
Gracie's lips.

"Ah, that is well," said Violet, with a pleased look. "Lulu has stolen a
march on us, Gracie."

The week that followed their arrival at Ion was a delightful one to all,
especially the children, who had scarce anything to do but enjoy
themselves. The weather was all that could be desired, and they walked,
rode, drove, boated, fished, and went nutting.

Mr. Dinsmore and Edward were every day more or less busied with the
affairs of the plantation, but some one of the older people could always
find time to be with the children, while Zoe never failed to make one of
the party, and seemed almost as much a child as any of the younger ones.

Every nook on the plantation and in its neighborhood was explored, and
visits were paid to Fairview, the Laurels, the Pines, the Oaks, Roselands
and Ashlands; the dwellers at each place having first called upon the
family at Ion.

Both Max and Lulu had long desired to learn to ride on horseback, and
great was their delight on learning that now this wish could be gratified.

A pony was always at the service of each, and lessons in the art of
sitting and managing it were given them, now by Mr. Dinsmore and now by
Edward, who was a great admirer of his brother-in-law, Captain Raymond,
had become much attached to him, and took a very kindly interest in his
children.

Gracie was given a share in all the pleasures for which she was considered
strong enough, and when not able to go with the others on their
expeditions, was well entertained at home with toys and books filled with
pictures and stories suited to her age.

Both Elsie and Violet watched over the little girl with true motherly love
and care; she warmly returning the affection of both, but clinging
especially to Violet, her "pretty new mamma."

Gracie was a docile little creature, and seemed very happy in her new
life. She was deeply interested in the riding lessons of her brother and
sister, and when, near the end of the week, Dr. Arthur, to whom she was
becoming much attached, set her on the back of a Shetland pony and led it
about the grounds for a few minutes, promising her longer rides as her
strength increased, she was almost speechless with happiness.

With the second week lessons began for the children. Each task had its
appointed hour, and they were required to be as systematic, punctual and
well prepared for recitations as pupils in an ordinary school, but at the
same time great care was taken that neither mind nor body should be
overtaxed, and they enjoyed many liberties and indulgences which could not
have been granted elsewhere than at home.

The mornings were spent by Rosie and Lulu in the school-room in study and
recitation, under the supervision of either "Grandma Elsie" or "Mamma Vi."

Grace and Walter would be there also at the start, but their short and
easy tasks having been attended to, they might stay and amuse themselves
quietly, or if inclined for noisy sport, go to the nursery or play-room to
enjoy it there.

Max conned his lessons alone in his own room, joining the others only when
the hour arrived for reciting to Mr. Dinsmore, who took sole charge of his
education, and of the two little girls, so far as concerned Latin and
arithmetic. Rosie and Max were together in both these studies, but
Lulu--because of being younger and not so far advanced--was alone in both,
much to her dissatisfaction, for she was by no means desirous to have Mr.
Dinsmore's attention concentrated upon herself for even a short space of
time.

His keen dark eyes seemed to look her through and through, and though he
had never shown her any sternness, she was quite sure he could and would
if she gave him any occasion.

But for that there was no necessity, his requirements being always
reasonable and only such as she was fully capable of meeting. She had a
good mind, quick discernment and retentive memory, and she was quite
resolved to be industrious and to keep her promise to her father to be a
good girl in every way. Also her ambition was aroused to attempt to
overtake her brother and Rosie.

She was moderately fond of study, but had a decided repugnance to plain
sewing, therefore looked ill-pleased enough upon discovering that it was
to be numbered among her daily tasks.

"I hate sewing!" she said with a scowl, "and when I'm old enough to do as
I please, I'll never touch a needle and thread."

It was afternoon of their first school day, and the little girls had just
repaired to the school-room in obedience to directions given them on their
dismissal for the morning.

All the ladies of the family were there, gathered cosily about the fire
and the table at which Grandma Elsie was busily cutting out garments that
seemed to be intended for a child, yet were of coarser, heavier material
than any of the family were accustomed to wearing.

"Perhaps you may change your mind by that time," she answered Lulu, with
pleasant tone and smile; "and I hope you will find it more agreeable now
than you expect. You are a kind-hearted little girl, I know, and when I
tell you these clothes are for a little Indian girl who needs them sadly,
I am quite sure you will be glad to help in making them."

Lulu's brow cleared. "Yes, ma'am," she said with a little hesitation, "if
I could sew nicely, but I can't."

"The more need to learn then, dear. Mamma Vi is basting a seam for you,
and will show you how to sew it."

"And when we all get started there'll be some nice story read aloud, won't
there, mamma?" asked Rosie.

"Yes; your sister Elsie will be the reader to-day, and the book Scott's
'Lady of the Lake.'"

"Oh, how nice!" cried Rosie in delight; "it's such a lovely book, and
sister Elsie's such a beautiful reader."

"In my little sister's opinion," laughed Mrs. Leland.

"And that of all present, I presume," said "Grandma Rose."

"I am fortunate in having so appreciative an audience," returned Elsie
gayly.

Lulu had accepted a mute invitation to take a seat by Violet's side.

"Mamma Vi," she whispered with heightened color, "I can't sew as well as
Gracie, and I'm ashamed to have anybody see my poor work."

"Never mind, dear, we won't show your first attempts, and you will find
this coarse, soft muslin easy to learn on," Violet answered in the same
low tone. "See, this is the way," taking a few stitches. "Your father told
me he wanted his dear little girls to learn every womanly accomplishment,
and I feel sure you will do your best to please him. Take pains, and you
may be able to send him some specimen of your work as a Christmas gift.
Would you not enjoy that?"

"Yes, ma'am, yes indeed!" returned the little girl, setting resolutely to
work.

"Mamma," said Gracie, coming to Violet's other side, "mayn't I have some
work, too? I like sewing better than Lulu does. Aunt Beulah taught me to
overseam and to hem."

"Then you may help us, little girlie," Violet said, kissing the little
fair cheek, "but must stop the minute you begin to feel fatigued; for I
must not let papa's baby girl wear out her small strength."

Presently, all having been supplied with work, the reading began. Every
one seemed able to listen with enjoyment except Lulu, who bent over her
task with frowning face, making her needle go in and out with impatient
pushes and jerks.

Violet watched the performance furtively for a few minutes, then gently
taking the work from her, said in a pleasant undertone, "You are getting
your stitches too long and too far apart, dear. We will take them out, and
you shall try again."

"I can't do it right! I'll never succeed, if I try ever so hard!" muttered
Lulu, impatiently.

"Oh, yes, you will," returned Violet with an encouraging smile. "Keep
trying, and you will be surprised to find how easy it will grow."

The second attempt was quite an improvement upon the first, and under
Violet's pleased look and warm praise Lulu's ruffled temper smoothed down,
and the ugly frown left her face.

In the mean while Gracie was handling her needle with the quiet ease of
one accustomed to its use, making tiny even stitches that quite surprised
her new mamma.

With all her faults Lulu was incapable of envy or jealousy, especially
toward her dearly loved brother and sister, and when at the close of the
sewing hour Gracie's work was handed about from one to another, receiving
hearty commendation, no one was better pleased than Lulu.

"Isn't it nice, Grandma Elsie?" she said, glancing at her little sister
with a flush of pride in her skill, "a great deal better than I can do,
though she's two years younger."

"It's only because I couldn't run about and play like Lulu, and so I just
sat beside Aunt Beulah and learned to hem and back-stitch and run and
overseam," said Gracie. "But Lulu can do everything else better than I
can."

"And she will soon equal you in that, I trust," said Violet, with an
affectionate glance from one to the other; "I am quite sure she will if
she continues to try as she has done to-day. And it makes my heart rejoice
to see how you love one another, dear children."

"I think everybody loves Gracie, because she's hardly ever naughty," said
Lulu; "I wish I'd been made so."




CHAPTER VIII.

    "Where'er I roam, whatever realms to see,
     My heart untravelled fondly turns to thee."
                            --Goldsmith.


"How very pretty, Zoe!" said Violet, examining her young sister-in-law's
work, a piece of black satin upon which she was embroidering leaves and
flowers in bright-colored silks.

"Oh, isn't it!" cried Lulu, in delighted admiration. "Mamma Vi, I'd like
to learn that kind of sewing."

"So you shall, dear, some day; but mamma's theory is that plain sewing
should be thoroughly mastered first. That has been her plan with all her
children, and Rosie has done scarcely any fancy work yet."

"But mamma has promised to let me learn all I can about it this winter,"
remarked Rosie, with much satisfaction.

"Mamma," Zoe said, with a blush, "I'm afraid I ought to join your
plain-sewing class. I should be really ashamed to exhibit any of my work
in that line."

"Well, dear child, I shall be glad to receive you as a pupil if you
desire it," Elsie returned, giving her a motherly glance and smile.

"Hark!" exclaimed Zoe, hastily gathering up her work, her cheeks rosy and
eyes sparkling with pleasure. "I hear Edward's step and voice," and she
tripped out of the room.

"How fond she is of him!" Violet remarked, looking after her with a
pleased smile.

"Yes," said her mother, "it does my heart good to see how they love each
other. And I think we are all growing fond of Zoe."

"Yes, indeed, mamma!" came in chorus from her three daughters.

"I'm sure we are; my husband and I as well as the rest," added Mrs.
Dinsmore.

"And, Vi," said Elsie Leland laughingly, "I really think mamma's new sons
are as highly appreciated in the family as her new daughter, and that all
three doat upon their new mother. Mamma, Lester says you are a pattern
mother-in-law, and I answer, 'Of course; mamma is a pattern in every
relation in life.'"

"My child, don't allow yourself to become a flatterer," returned her
mother gravely.

"Zoe, Zoe, where are you?" Edward was calling from below.

"Here," she answered, running down to meet him. "I've been in the
school-room with mamma and the others," she added, as she gained his
side, and looking up brightly into his face as she spoke.

"Ah," he said, bending down to kiss the ruby lips. "I thought you were to
be my pupil."

"Oh, so I am! except in purely feminine accomplishments. See!" holding up
her work. "I've been busy with this. It was the sewing hour, and sister
Elsie read aloud to us while we worked."

"Ah, yes! I have been reader many a time while mamma and sisters plied the
needle."

"How nice! you are such a beautiful reader! But she is almost as good."

"Not only almost, but altogether," he returned gayly as he held open the
door of her boudoir for her to enter, then followed her in. "I've come now
to hear your recitations. I suppose you are quite prepared," he added,
drawing up a chair for her, and glancing at a pile of books lying on the
table.

"No," she said, coloring and dropping her eyes with a slightly mortified
air. "I meant to be, but so many things happened to interfere. I had a
letter to write, then some ladies called, and then----"

"Well?" he said interrogatively, as she paused, coloring still more
deeply.

"I wanted to finish the book I was reading last night. I really couldn't
fix my thoughts on stupid lessons until I knew what became of the
heroine."

Edward, standing by her side and looking down at her, shook his head
gravely. "Duties should be attended to first, Zoe, pleasures indulged in
afterward."

"You are talking to me as if I were nothing but a child!" she cried
indignantly, her cheeks growing hot.

"The dearest, most lovable child in the world," he said, bending down to
stroke her hair and look into her face with laughing eyes.

"No, sir, I'm your wife. What did you marry me for if you considered me
such a child?" she cried with a half pout on her lip, but love-light in
the eyes lifted to his.

"Because I loved you and wanted the right to take care of you, my bonny
belle," he said, repeating his caress.

"And you do, the best care in the world, you dear boy!" she exclaimed
impulsively, throwing her arms about his neck. "And if it will please you,
I'll set to work at the lessons now."

"Then do, love; I have letters to write, and we will sit here and work
side by side."

Both worked diligently for an hour or more; they had a merry time over the
recitations, then drove together to the nearest village to post Edward's
letters and get the afternoon mail for Ion.

Violet was made happy by a long letter from her husband.

She had barely time to glance over it, learning when and where it was
written, and that he was well at the time of writing, when the tea-bell
rang.

She slipped the precious missive into her pocket with a little sigh of
satisfaction, and joined the others at the table with a very bright and
happy face.

She had not been the only fortunate one; her mother had cheering news from
Herbert and Harold, Mrs. Dinsmore some sprightly, gossipy letters from her
sisters Adelaide and May, whose contents furnished topics of lively
discourse, in which Violet took part.

She had not mentioned her own letter, but at length Edward, noting the
brightness of her countenance, asked, "Good news from the captain, Vi?"

"Yes, thank you," she said; "he was well and seemingly in excellent
spirits at the time of writing, though he says he misses wife and children
sorely."

All three of his children turned toward her with eager, questioning looks,
Max and Lulu asking, "Didn't papa write to us, too?"

"He sends you a message, dears," Violet said. "I have not really read the
letter yet, but shall do so after supper, and you shall all surely have
your share of it."

On leaving the table they followed her to the door of her boudoir.

"May we come in, Mamma Vi?" Max asked, with a wistful look.

"Certainly," she answered in a pleasant tone, though longing to be quite
alone while giving her precious letter its first perusal; "I would have
you feel as free to come into my apartments as I always have felt to go
into mamma's. Sit down and make yourselves comfortable, dears, and you
shall hear presently what your papa says.

"The letter was written on shipboard, brought into New York by another
vessel and there mailed to me."

Max politely drew up a chair near the light for Violet, another for Lulu,
placed Gracie's own little rocker close to her mamma's side, then stood
behind it prepared to give close attention to the reading of his father's
letter.

Violet omitted a little here and there--expressions of tender affection
for herself, or something else evidently intended for her eye alone. The
captain wrote delightful letters; at least they were such in the esteem of
his wife and children. This one provoked to both laughter and tears, he
had so amusing a way of relating trivial incidents, and some passages were
so tenderly affectionate.

But something near the close brought an anxious, troubled look to Max's
face, a frown to Lulu's brow.

It was this: "Tell Max and Lulu I wish each of them to keep a diary for my
inspection, writing down every evening what have been the doings and
happenings of the day as regards themselves--their studies, their
pleasures, their conduct also. Max telling of himself, Lulu of herself,
just as they would if sitting on my knee and answering the questions,
'What have you been busy about to-day? Have you been attentive to your
studies, respectful and obedient to those in charge of you? Have you tried
to do your duty toward God and man?'

"They need not show any one at Ion what they write. I shall trust to their
truthfulness and honesty not to represent themselves as better than they
are, not to hide their faults from the father who cares to know of them,
only that he may help his dear children to live right and be happy. Ah, if
they but knew how I love them! and how it grieves and troubles me when
they go astray!"

Max's face brightened at those closing sentences, Lulu's softened for a
moment, but then, as Violet folded the letter, "I don't want to!" she
burst out. "Why does papa say we must do such things?"

"He tells you, dear; did you not notice?" said Violet. "He says he wishes
to know your faults in order to help you to correct them. And don't you
think it will help you to avoid wrongdoing? to resist temptation? the
remembrance that it must be confessed to your dear father and will grieve
him very much? Is it not kind in him to be willing to bear that pain for
the sake of doing you good?"

Lulu did not answer, but Max said, "Yes, indeed, Mamma Vi! and oh, I hope
I'll never have to make his heart ache over my wrongdoings! But I don't
know how to keep a diary."

"Nor I either," added Lulu.

"But you can learn, dears," Violet said. "I will help you at the start.
You can each give a very good report of to-day's conduct, I am sure.

"The keeping of a diary will be very improving to you in a literary way,
teaching you to express your thoughts readily in writing, and that, I
presume, is one thing your father has in view."

"But it will be just like writing compositions; and that I always did
_hate_!" cried Lulu vehemently.

"No, not exactly," said Max; "because you don't have to make up anything,
only to tell real happenings and doings that you haven't had time to
forget."

"And I think you will soon find it making the writing of compositions
easier," remarked Violet, with an encouraging smile.

"It'll be just the same as having to write a composition every day,"
grumbled Lulu. "I wish papa wouldn't be so hard on us. I have to study
lessons a whole hour every evening, and then it'll take ever so long to
write that, and I shall not have a bit of time to play."

"I wish I could write," little Gracie said, with a half sigh. "If I could,
I'd like to talk that way to papa."

"You shall learn, darling," Violet said, caressing her with gentle
fondness. "Would you like to begin now?"

"Oh, yes, mamma!" cried the child eagerly.

"Then bring me your slate, and I will set you a copy. Max and Lulu, would
you like to bring your writing-desks in here, and let me give you any help
you may need?"

Both assented to the proposal with thanks, and were presently seated near
her, each with open desk, a fresh sheet of paper spread out upon it, and
pen in hand.

"I think that until you are a little used to the business, it would be
well to compose first with a pencil, then copy in ink," remarked Violet.
"And here," taking it from a drawer in her writing-desk, as she spoke,
"is some printing paper which takes pencil mark much better than the more
highly glazed paper which we use ordinarily in writing letters."

She gave each of them a pile of neatly cut sheets and a nicely sharpened
pencil.

They thanked her, and Max set to work at once.

Lulu sat playing with her pencil, her eyes on the carpet. "I don't know
how to begin!" she exclaimed presently in an impatient tone. "What shall I
say first, Mamma Vi?"

"Write down the date and then--Suppose you dictate to me, if that will be
any easier."

"Thank you, ma'am, I think it would till I get into the way of it," Lulu
said, handing over her paper and pencil with a sigh of relief.

"Now," said Violet, encouragingly, "just imagine that you are sitting on
your papa's knee and answering the question, 'What have you been doing all
day?'"

"As soon as I was dressed and ready for breakfast, I went to Grandma
Elsie's dressing-room, along with Rosie and the others, to say Bible
verses, and hear Grandma Elsie talk about them and pray. Will that do,
Mamma Vi?"

"Very nicely, dear; it is just what your papa wants, I think."

Lulu's brow cleared, and she went on stating briefly the doings of the now
closing day in the due order of their succession, Violet's pen nearly
keeping pace with her tongue.

"And here we are--Max and Gracie and I--sitting with Mamma Vi in her
boudoir, and she is writing for me the words I tell her, and I'm to copy
them off to-morrow," was the concluding sentence of this first entry in
the little girl's diary.

"Will you hear mine, Mamma Vi, and tell me if it will do?" asked Max; and
receiving permission read it aloud.

"It is very good indeed, Max," Violet said; "a good and true report, and
well expressed. Now, if you and Lulu choose you may bring your books here
and study your lessons for to-morrow, and if you need help from me I shall
give it with pleasure."

"But, Mamma Vi, it will be very dull for you to stay up here with us while
the rest of the grown-up people are having a nice time together in the
parlor," said Max.

"You are very kindly thoughtful, Max," returned Violet, with a pleased
look, "but I don't care to go down-stairs for some time yet; Gracie begins
to look weary, so I shall help her to bed and then answer your father's
letter. Can't you imagine that I may prefer to talk to Mm for a little
rather than to any one else, even if only with pen, ink and paper?" she
added, with a charming blush and smile.

"Oh, yes, indeed! for I know you're very fond of him. And I don't wonder,
for I think he's the very best and handsomest man in the world," cried Max
enthusiastically, and both Lulu and Gracie said, "So do I."

"Then we are all agreed so far," laughed Vi. "Come, Gracie, darling, I
will be your maid to-night."

"No, no! not my maid, but my dear, sweet, pretty mamma!" returned the
little one, throwing her arms around Violet's neck and kissing her with
ardent affection.

Lulu had risen to go for her books, but paused to say with a slight effort
and heightened color, "Yes, Mamma Vi, you are sweet and pretty, and very,
very kind to us."

The child was by no means devoid of gratitude, though her pride and
prejudice were hard to conquer. Expressions of gratitude and affection
toward their young stepmother were far less frequent from her than from
her brother and sister, but were perhaps all the more valued because of
their rarity.

"Thank you, dear," returned Violet, happy tears glistening in her eyes;
"if I am, it is because I love you for both your own and your father's
sake."

She knew his heart always rejoiced in every demonstration of affection
from his children toward her, and in the letter she presently began
writing she recounted all that had been shown her that evening, and also
others carefully treasured up in her memory for that purpose.




CHAPTER IX.

    "The sober comfort, all the peace which springs
     From the large aggregate of little things,
     On these small cares of--daughter--wife--or friend,
     The almost sacred joys of home depend."
                                 --Hannah More.


Mrs. Elsie Travilla and her family were greatly beloved in their own
neighborhood, and as there had been no opportunity hitherto for showing
attention to the three young married ladies, or any one of them, there was
quite an influx of callers for a week or two after the return to Ion, and
these calls were presently succeeded by a round of dinner and evening
parties given in their honor.

The death of Mr. Love having occurred within the year, Zoe, of course,
declined all such invitations; and it was only occasionally that Edward
could be persuaded to go without her.

Violet accepted when it would have been deemed impolite or unkind to
decline, but scarcely yet more than a bride, she felt a trifle forlorn
going into society without her husband, and much preferred the quiet and
seclusion of home.

This was to the advantage of the children, Max and Lulu thereby gaining
much assistance with their evening studies, Gracie a great deal of
motherly care and petting.

So the duty of representing the family at these social gatherings devolved
largely upon Lester and Elsie Leland, who laughingly declared themselves
martyrs to the social reputation of the family.

"A very nice way to be martyred, I think," said Rosie. "I only wish they'd
have the politeness to include me in their invitations."

"It would do you little good," remarked Mr. Dinsmore, "since you would not
be allowed to accept."

"Are you quite sure, grandpa, that mamma wouldn't allow it?" she asked,
with an arch look up into his face.

"Quite; since she never allows anything which I do not approve."

"Well," Rosie said, seating herself upon his knee and putting an arm
around his neck, "I believe it isn't worth while to fret about it, since,
as I'm not invited, I couldn't go any how."

"A sensible conclusion," he returned laughingly. "Fretting is an
unprofitable business at any time."

"Ordinarily I should be very much of Rosie's opinion," Zoe said aside to
her husband, "for I was always fond of parties; but of course, just now I
couldn't take the least pleasure in them," and she hastily brushed away a
tear.

"No, love, I'm sure you could not," he said, tenderly clasping the little
hand she had laid in his. "But the truest, purest happiness is found at
home. And," he added with a smile, "it is quite to the advantage of your
plans for study that society can claim so little of your time and strength
at present. You are doing so nicely that I am very proud of my pupil."

She flushed with pleasure, but with a roguish smile, and shaking her
finger warningly at him, "Take care," she said, "don't let the husband be
lost in the tutor, or I shall----"

"What? go over to grandpa?"

"Oh, no, no!" she cried, snatching her hand from his grasp, and lifting
both in mimic horror.

"What are you two chatting so cosily about in that far-off corner?" asked
Mrs. Leland's cheery voice from the midst of the larger group at the
farther side of the room.

"It's merely a little private confab between man and wife, in which the
public can have no interest," returned Edward.

"Quite a mistake, so far as this part of the public is concerned," said
his mother, her soft brown eyes gazing lovingly upon them, "but we won't
pry into your secrets, only invite you to join our circle when you have
finished your private chat."

For some weeks all went well with our friends at Ion; the family machinery
worked smoothly, with no jarring or jostling; everybody in good humor and
behaving kindly toward everybody else.

Max and Lulu made good progress in their studies, and were able to give a
good report of each day in their diaries, which, of their own accord, they
brought each evening to Violet for her inspection.

She reminded them that they were not required to do so; but they answered
that they preferred it; they wanted to know if she thought they were
representing themselves as better than they really were.

She was glad to be able to answer with truth that she did not think so,
and that she could report them to their father as worthy of all praise in
regard to both conduct and diligence in study.

"You have both been so pleasant tempered," she remarked in conclusion,
"Lulu neither grumbling nor so much as looking sour over her tasks, or
even the sewing lessons, which I know are particularly distasteful to her.
Dear child, you have been very good, and I know it will rejoice your
father's heart to hear it," she added, kissing the little girl's cheek.

Lulu's face flushed and her eyes shone, Mrs. Scrimp had been always ready
to blame, never to praise, but with Mamma Vi it was just the other way.
She was almost blind to faults, but particularly keen-sighted where
virtues were concerned.

Violet turned toward Max to find him regarding her with wistful, longing
looks.

"Well, what is it, Max, my dear boy?" she asked, half laughingly.

"Don't be partial, Mamma Vi," he answered. "I do believe a boy likes a
kiss from a sweet, pretty lady that he has a right to care for, quite as
well as a girl does."

"Then come and get it," she said, offering her lips. "Max, you may feel as
free always to ask for it as if I were your own mother or sister."

Edward had, perhaps, the most trying pupil of all; she had done well at
first, but as the novelty of the undertaking wore off, lost her interest,
and now found so many excuses for not being prepared at the proper time
for recitation; and if he so much as looked grave over the failure, was so
hurt, and felt herself so ill-used, that an extra amount of coaxing and
petting became necessary to restore her to cheerfulness and good humor.

He was growing very weary of it all, and at times felt tempted to cease
trying to improve the mind of his little wife; but no, he could not do
that if he would have her a fit companion for him intellectually as well
as in other respects, for though she had naturally a fine mind, its
cultivation had been sadly neglected.

He opened his heart to his mother on the subject, entreating her advice
and assistance, but without finding fault with Zoe (Elsie would hardly
have listened for a moment to that), and she comforted him with words of
encouragement to persevere in his own efforts, and promises to aid him in
every way in her power.

In pursuance of that object she put in Zoe's way, and recommended to her
notice, books that would be likely to interest and at the same time
instruct her. Also considered her needs, as well as those of her own
pupils, in making her selections for the afternoon readings in the
school-room.

There was much gained by the child wife in these ways, and also from the
conversation of the highly educated and intelligent older members of the
family, of which she had now become a part.

She was very desirous to become their equal in these respects, especially
for Edward's sake, but she was so much used to self-indulgence, so
unaccustomed to self-control, that her good resolutions were made only to
be broken till she herself was nearly ready to give up in despair.

Elsie was alone in her own apartments one afternoon, an hour or more after
dismissing her pupils to their play, when Zoe came to her with flushed
cheeks, quivering lips, and eyes full of tears.

"What is wrong with you, my dear little daughter?" Elsie asked in tender,
motherly tones, as she looked up into the troubled face.

"O mamma, I don't know what to do! I wish you could help me!" cried Zoe,
dropping upon her knees at Elsie's feet, and hiding her face on her lap,
the tears falling fast now, mingled with sobs.

"Only tell me what is wrong, dear, and you shall have all the help I can
give," Elsie said, smoothing the weeper's fair hair with soft, caressing
hand.

"Edward is vexed with me," sobbed Zoe. "I know he is, though he didn't say
a word; but he looked so grave, and walked away without speaking."

"Perhaps he was not vexed with you, dear; it may have been merely that he
was deep in thought about something that had no connection with the little
wife, whom, as I very well know, he loves very dearly."

"No, mamma, it wasn't that; he had come in to hear me recite, and I was so
interested in my fancy work that I'd forgotten to watch the time and
hadn't looked at the lessons. So I told him, and said I was sorry I
wasn't ready for him, and he didn't answer a word, but just looked at me
as grave as a judge, and turned round and walked out of the room."

"Surely, my dear Zoe, Edward does not insist upon his little wife learning
lessons whether she is willing or not?" Elsie said inquiringly, and with a
gentle caress.

"Oh, no, no, mamma! it has been my own choice, and I've no wish to give it
up; but somehow there is always something interfering with my studying.
Somebody calls, or I'm inclined for a ride, a drive or a walk, or I get
engaged in sewing or fancy work, or my music, or a story-book that's too
interesting to lay down till I reach the end. Mamma, I often wonder how it
is that you find time for all these things and many others beside."

"Shall I tell you the secret of managing it, dear?" Elsie asked, with an
affectionate look and smile into the tear-stained face now uplifted to
hers.

Zoe gave an eager assent, and Elsie went on:

"It lies in doing things systematically, always putting duties first,
giving to each its set time, and letting the pleasures come in afterward.
If I were you, my dear, I should have a regular study hour, putting it
early in the day, before callers begin to come, and I should not allow it
to be lightly interfered with; no stitch should be taken in fancy work,
no novel opened, no story paper glanced at, until each lesson for the day
was fully prepared."

Zoe's face had brightened very much as she listened.

"O mamma, I see that that is just the way to do it!" she cried, clapping
her hands with glee, "and I'll begin at once. I'll think over all the
daily duties and make out a regular programme, and----"

"Strive earnestly to carry it out, you would say, yet not in your own
strength alone," Elsie added, as Zoe paused, leaving her sentence
unfinished.

"Yes, mamma," she responded in a more serious tone. "And now, I'll run
back to my room and try to be ready for Edward when he comes in again."

She set herself to her tasks with unwonted determination to give her whole
mind to them. Edward came in at length, and was greeted with a bright look
and the announcement in a tone of great satisfaction, "I'm quite ready for
you now."

"I've been thinking we might perhaps as well give it up, Zoe," he answered
gravely, "at least for the present, until you are done working upon those
very fascinating Christmas things."

"Oh no, don't!" she said, flushing and looking ready to cry, "try me a
little longer, Ned; I've been talking with mamma, and I'm really going to
turn over a new leaf and do just as she advises."

"Ah, if you have taken mamma into your counsels there is some hope," he
said in a tone of hearty approval. "But we will have to put off the
recitations until after tea. I must drive over to the Oaks to see Uncle
Horace about a business matter, and I just came up to ask you to go
along."

"Oh, I'll be happy to!" she cried joyously, pushing the books aside and
starting to her feet, "and it won't take me a minute to don hat and
cloak."

He caught her in his arms as she was rushing past him, and kissing her on
cheek and lips, asked in tender tones, "Have I made you unhappy this
afternoon, my love, my darling?"

"Yes, for a little while; but I deserved it, Ned, and I don't mind it now
if--if only you love your foolish, careless little wife as well as ever in
spite of all her faults."

"I love you dearly, dearly, my one own peculiar treasure," he responded,
with another caress of ardent affection, as he let her go.

She was gay and happy as a bird during their drive, and full of enthusiasm
in regard to her new plan, explaining it to Edward, and asking his advice
about the best division of her time, how much should be allotted to this
duty and how much to that.

"I mean to rise earlier," she said, "and if I can't get time in that way
for all I want to do, I'll shorten my rides and walks."

"No," he said, "I'm not going to have your health sacrificed even to
mental improvement; and certainly not to fancy work; I shall insist on
plenty of rest and sleep and abundance of exercise in the open air for the
dear little woman I have taken charge of."

"Then, sir, you're not to be cross if the studies are not attended to."

"They will be if put before novels, fancy work, and other equally
unnecessary employments."

"Well, I've said they shall be in future. O Ned," and she nestled closer
to his side, looking up lovingly into his face, "it's ever so nice to have
somebody to take care of me and love me as you do! How could I ever do
without papa, who always petted me so, if I hadn't you?"

"I hope you may never find out. I hope I may be spared to take care of
you, as long as you need me, little wife," he said, pressing her closer to
his side.

Rosie met them in the hall on their return to Ion.

"It's most tea time, Zoe," she said; "I think you'll not have any too much
time for changing your dress."

"Then I must needs make haste," returned Zoe, tripping up the stairs.

Edward, who was taking off his overcoat, turned a rather surprised,
inquiring glance upon his little sister.

"Oh, yes," she said laughingly, "I had a reason for hurrying her away,
because I want to tell you something. Cousin Ronald Lilburn is coming.
Maybe he will be here by to-morrow. Mamma heard he wasn't well, and she
wrote and invited him to come and spend the winter with us, and she's just
had a letter saying he will come. Aren't you glad, Ned?"

"I'm very well pleased, Rosie, but why shouldn't Zoe have heard your
announcement?"

"Because I wanted to warn you first not to tell her or the Raymonds
something (you know what) that must be kept secret at first, if we want to
have some fun."

"Oh, yes!" he said, with a good-humored laugh. "Well, I think you may
trust me not to tell. But how about all the others? Walter, especially?"

"Oh, he doesn't remember anything about it; and grandpa and mamma and all
the rest have promised not to tell."

"And you are quite sure Rosie may be trusted not to let the secret slip
out unintentionally?" he asked, pinching her round rosy cheek.

"I hope so," she said, laughing and running away.

Opening the library door and seeing Lulu there curled up in the corner of
a sofa with a book, she stepped in, shutting the door behind her.

Lulu looked up.

"Shall I disturb you if I talk?" asked Rose.

"I'm ready to listen," answered Lulu, half closing her book. "What have
you to say?"

"Oh, that Cousin Ronald Lilburn is coming, and I'm ever so glad, as you
would be, too, if you knew him."

"I never heard of him," said Lulu. "Is he a boy? is he older than Max?"

"I should think so!" cried Rosie, with a merry laugh. "He has grown-up
sons, and he looks a good deal older than grandpa."

"Pooh! then why should I care about his coming!" exclaimed Lulu, in a tone
of mingled impatience and contempt.

"Why, because he's very nice and kind to us children, and tells us the
loveliest stories about the brownies in Scotland and about Bruce and
Wallace and the black Douglass and Robin Hood and his merry men, and--oh,
I can't tell you what all!"

"Oh, that must be ever so nice!" cried Lulu, now as much pleased and
interested in the news of the expected arrival as Rosie could desire.




CHAPTER X.

IN WHICH THE CHILDREN HAVE SOME FUN.


In the uppermost story of the house at Ion was a large play-room furnished
with a great variety of toys and games--indeed almost everything that
could be thought of for the amusement of the young folks, from Walter up
to Max.

But the greatest delight of the last named was in the deft handling of the
tools in an adjoining apartment, called the boys' work-room. There he
found abundance of material to work upon, holly scroll and fret saws, and
a well-stocked tool chest.

Edward had given him a few lessons at the start, and now he had become so
expert as to be turning out some really beautiful pieces of carving, which
he intended to give to his friends at Christmas.

Lulu, too, was learning scroll-sawing, and thought it far preferable to
any sort of needle-work; sometimes more enjoyable than playing with her
dolls.

They were there together one afternoon, both very busy and chatting and
laughing as they worked.

"Max," said Lulu, "I'm determined to learn to do scroll-sawing and carving
just as well as ever I can, and make lovely things! Maybe I can contrive
new patterns or designs, or whatever they call 'em, and after a while make
ever so much money, enough to pay for my clothes and everything, so that
papa won't have to spend any of his money on me."

"Why, Lu!" exclaimed her brother, "do you think papa grudges the money he
spends on you, or any of us?"

"No, I know he doesn't," she returned vehemently, "but can't you
understand that I'd like him to have more to spend on himself?"

"Oh," said Max. "Well, that's right, I'm sure, and very thoughtful for a
little girl like you. I do think you're splendid in some ways, Lu."

"And whether you make money by it or not, it will be a good thing to learn
to do this work well. Papa says, 'knowledge is power,' and the more things
we know how to do, the more independent and useful we will be."

Just then the door opened, and Zoe, in riding hat and habit, put in her
head.

"Max, I'm going to ride into the village," she said, "and Edward can't go
with me, as he intended. Will you?"

"Yes, Aunt Zoe, of course, if you want me," answered the boy promptly,
stopping his saw and springing to his feet, for he was much gratified by
the invitation. "I'll get ready as fast as I can; 'twon't take over five
minutes."

"Thank you. I'll wait for you in the parlor," said Zoe, "Lulu, would you
like to go, too?"

"No, thank you, I had a ride this morning, and now I want to finish this."

Max had left the room, and Zoe, drawing nearer to Lulu, exclaimed at the
beauty of her work.

"Why, I never should have dreamed you could do it so well!" she said. "I
don't believe I could."

Lulu's face flushed with pleasure, but she said modestly, "Perhaps you'd
find, if you should try, that you could do it better; you do everything
else better than I do."

"Quite a mistake," returned Zoe, "though I ought to, as I'm so much older.
But there, I dare say Max is ready and waiting for me, so good-by."

They met in the lower hall. "All ready, Max?" she asked.

"Yes--no; I must ask leave," and he ran into the parlor where the ladies
of the family were sitting.

It was of Grandma Elsie he asked permission, and it was given at once.

"Thank you, ma'am," he said. "Can I do anything for you in the town,
ladies?"

"Yes," said Violet, "I have just broken a crochet needle. You may get me
one to replace it."

She went on to give him directions about the size and where he would be
likely to find it; then taking some money from her purse, "This is sure to
be more than enough," she said, "but you may keep the change."

"Mamma Vi, I don't want pay for doing an errand for you," returned the boy
coloring; "it is a great pleasure, it would be even if papa had not told
me to wait on you and do all I could to fill his place."

"I don't mean it as pay, my dear boy," Violet answered, with a pleased
look, "but haven't I a right to make a little present now and then to the
children who call me mamma?"

Max's face brightened.

"Yes, ma'am, I suppose so," he said. "Thank you; I'll take it willingly
enough if it isn't pay, and I'm very proud to be trusted to buy something
for you."

Edward was helping Zoe into the saddle as Max came hurrying out.

"Take good care of her, Max," he said, "I'm trusting you and Tom there
with my chiefest treasure."

"I'll do my best," Max said, mounting his pony, which Tom the colored boy
was holding.

"Me, too, Marse Ed'ard, dere shan't nuffin hurt Miss Zoe," added the
latter, giving Max the bridle, then mounting a third horse and falling
behind the others as they cantered down the avenue.

A little beyond the gate the family carriage passed them, Mr. Dinsmore and
a strange gentleman inside.

"Company," remarked Zoe. "I wonder who he is, and if he's come to stay any
time? I think grandpa drove into the city in season to meet the afternoon
train."

"Yes, I know he did," said Max.

Max had now learned to ride quite well, and felt himself very nearly a man
as he escorted Zoe to the village, and, arrived there, went with her from
store to store, executed Violet's commission, then having assisted Zoe
into the saddle remounted, and returned with her to Ion.

It was very near the tea hour when they reached home. Zoe went directly to
her own apartments to change her dress, but Max, without even waiting to
take off his overcoat, hastened into the parlor to hand the crochet needle
to Violet.

The ladies were all there, Rosie, too, and Mr. Dinsmore, and an elderly
gentleman, whom Max at once recognized as the one he had seen in the
carriage that afternoon.

He shook hands very kindly with the boy as Mr. Dinsmore introduced them,
"Cousin Ronald this is Max Raymond--Mr. Lilburn, Max."

"Ah ha, ah ha! um, h'm! ah ha! A fine-looking lad," Mr. Lilburn said,
still holding the boy's hand in a kindly grasp, and gazing with evident
interest into the bright young face. "I trust you and I are going to be
good friends, Max. I'm no so young myself as I once was, but I like the
company of the blithe young lads and lasses."

"Thank you, sir," said Max, coloring with pleasure. "Rosie says you tell
splendid stories about Wallace and the Bruce and Robin Hood and his merry
men; and I know I shall enjoy them ever so much."

As he finished his sentence Max colored more deeply than before, at the
same time hastily thrusting his right hand deep into the pocket on that
side of his overcoat, for a peculiar sound like the cry of a young puppy
seemed to come from it at that instant, much to the boy's discomfiture and
astonishment.

"What is that? What have you got there, Max?" asked little Walter,
pricking up his ears, while Violet asked with an amused look, "Have you
been making an investment in livestock, Max?"

A query that seemed all the more natural and appropriate as the cluck of a
hen came from the pocket on the other side of the overcoat.

Down went the left hand into that. "No, Mamma Vi, they're not in my
pockets," returned the boy, with a look of great bewilderment.

"No, to be sure not," said Mr. Lilburn, and the hen clucked behind
Violet's chair and the pup's cry was heard coming from underneath a heap
of crocheting in Mrs. Dinsmore's lap, fairly startling her into uttering a
little cry of surprise and dismay and springing to her feet.

Then everybody laughed, Rosie clapping her hands with delight, and Max
glanced from one to another more mystified than ever.

"Never mind, Max," said Violet, "it's plain you are not the culprit who
brought such unwelcome intruders here. Run up to your room now and make
yourself ready for tea."

Max obeyed, but looking back from the doorway, asked, "Shall I send one of
the servants to turn out the hen and carry away the pup?"

"Never mind, we'll attend to it," said Mr. Dinsmore.

"I'll find 'em. I can carry that pup out," said Walter, getting down from
his grandpa's knee and beginning a vigorous search for it, the older
people watching him with much amusement.

At length, having satisfied himself that neither it nor the hen was in the
room, he concluded that they must be in Max's overcoat pockets, and told
him so the moment he returned.

"No, they are not, unless some one has put them there since I went
up-stairs," said Max. "But I don't believe in them, Walter. I think they
were only make believe."

"How make believe?" asked the little fellow in perplexity.

"Ask Mr. Lilburn."

"Come, explain yourself, young man," said that gentleman laughingly.

"I've heard of ventriloquists, sir," said Max. "I don't know if you are
one, but as pup and hen could only be heard and not seen, I think it must
have been a ventriloquist's work."

"But you don't know for certain," said Rosie, coming to his side, "and
please don't say anything to Zoe, or Lulu, or Gracie about it."

"I won't," he said, as the door opened and the three entered, Zoe having
overtaken the two little girls on their way down-stairs after being
dressed for the evening by the careful and expert Agnes.

"Mamma, do I look nice enough for your little girl?" asked Gracie, going
to Violet's side.

"Very nice and sweet, my darling," was the whispered reply, accompanied by
a tender caress.

Walter, hardly waiting until the necessary introductions were over, burst
out eagerly, "Zoe, do you know where that pup is?"

"What pup?" she asked.

"I don't know his name."

"Well, what about him?"

"I thought he was in Max's pocket, but he wasn't, and neither was the
hen."

The tea-bell rang at that instant, and Rosie, putting her lips to Walter's
ear, whispered, "Do keep quiet about it, and we'll have some fun."

"Will we?" he asked with a look of mingled wonder and pleasure; "then I'll
keep quiet."

All through the meal Walter was on the _qui vive_ for the fun, but there
was none beyond a few jests and pleasantries which were by no means
unusual in their cheerful family circle.

"There wasn't a bit of fun, Rosie," he complained to her after all had
returned to the parlor.

"Wait a little," she answered, "perhaps it will come yet."

"Before I have to go to bed?"

"I hope so. Suppose you go and tell Cousin Ronald you want some fun. He
knows how to make it. But be sure to whisper it in his ear."

Walter did as directed.

"Wait a wee, bairnie, and see what will happen," Cousin Ronald answered in
an undertone, and with a low pleasant laugh as he lifted the little fellow
to his knee.

Mr. Dinsmore sat near at hand, the ladies had gathered about the
centre-table with their work, while Lester Leland and Edward Travilla
hovered near their wives, the one with a newspaper, the other merely
watching the busy fingers of the fair workers and making jesting comments
upon what they were doing.

But presently there was a sudden commotion in their midst, one after
another springing from her chair with a little startled cry and trying to
dodge what, from the sound, seemed to be an enormous bumble bee circling
round and round their heads and in and out among them. "Buzz! buzz! buzz!"
surely never bumble bee buzzed so loud before.

"Oh, catch it! kill it, Edward!" cried Zoe, with a half frantic rush to
the farther side of the room. "Oh, here it comes after me! It's settling
on my hair! Oh!"

"No, dear, it isn't, there is really nothing there," Edward said
soothingly, yet with a laugh, for a second thought had told him the real
cause of the disturbance.

"I believe it's gone," she said, drawing a long breath of relief, as she
turned her head this way and that, "but where did it go to? and how
strange for one to be flying about this time of year!"

The other ladies exchanging amused glances and smiles, were drawing round
the table again when a loud "cluck, cluck" came from beneath it.

"Oh, there she is! there's the old hen Max brought!" cried Walter,
springing from Mr. Lilburn's knee to run to the table.

Stooping down he peeped under it. "Why, no, she's not there!" he said in
wonder and disappointment. "Ah, yonder she is! behind that window
curtain," as "cluck, cluck cluck," came from a distant corner. "Max, Max,
catch her quick, 'fore she gets away!"

Max ran and hastily drew aside the curtain.

There was nothing there, as Walter, Lulu and Gracie, who had all rushed to
the spot, perceived with amazement.

"Hark!" said Mr. Dinsmore, and as a death-like silence fell upon the room
the "cluck, cluck, cluck" was distinctly heard from the hall.

Out rushed the children and searched its whole length, but without finding
the intruder.

Back they came to report their failure. Then dogs, big and little, barked
and growled, now here, now there, little pigs squealed, cats meowed, and
mice squealed from the corners, under sofas and chairs, in the ladies'
laps, in the gentlemen's pockets, yet not one could be seen.

For a while it made a great deal of sport, but at length little feeble
Gracie grew frightened and nervous, and running to "Mamma Vi" hid her head
in her lap with a burst of tears and sobs.

That put an end to the fun and frolic, everybody sobered down instantly
and kept very quiet, while Grandpa Dinsmore carefully explained to the
little weeper that Cousin Ronald had made all the sounds which had so
excited and alarmed her, and that there was really nothing in the room
that could hurt or annoy her.

She lifted her head at last, wiped away her tears, and with a laugh that
was half a sob, said, "I'll stop crying, then; but I'm afraid everybody
thinks I'm a great baby."

"Oh no, dear!" said Grandma Elsie, "we all know that if our little girlie
is easily troubled, it is because she is not well and strong like the rest
of us."

"And I must beg your pardon for frightening you so, my wee bit bonny
lassie," said Mr. Lilburn, stroking her hair. "I'll try to atone for it,
one o' these days, by telling you and the other bairns the finest stories
I know."

The promise called forth from the young folks a chorus of thanks and
exclamations of delight, Walter adding, "Won't you please tell one now,
Cousin Ronald, to comfort Gracie?"

"A very disinterested request, no doubt, my little son," Elsie said
laughingly, as she rose and took his hand to lead him from the room; "but
it is high time both you and Gracie were in your nests. So bid good-night,
and we will go."




CHAPTER XI.

    "At Christmas play, and make good cheer,
     For Christmas comes but once a year."
                           --Tusser.


It was the day before Christmas.

"When do our holidays begin, mamma?" asked Rosie, as she put her books
neatly away in her desk after the last morning recitation.

"Now, my child; we will have no tasks this afternoon. Instead, I give my
five little folks an invitation to drive into the city with me. How many
will accept?"

"I, thank you, ma'am," "and I," "and I," came in joyous tones from one and
another, for all were in the room, and not one indifferent to the delight
of a visit to the city, especially just at this time when the stores were
so full of pretty things. Besides, who could fail to enjoy a drive with
the kind, sweet lady some of them called mamma, others Grandma Elsie?

"Then you may all be ready to start immediately after dinner," she said,
glancing around upon them with a benign smile.

It was a still, bright day, mild for the season, no snow on the ground to
make a sleigh-ride possible, but the roads were good, they had fine
horses, plenty of wraps, and the ride in the softly-cushioned,
easy-rolling carriage, whose large plate-glass windows gave them a good
view of the country first, then of the streets and shop windows of the
city, was found very enjoyable.

They were not afraid to jest, laugh, and be as merry as health, freedom
from care, youthful spirits, and pleasing anticipations for the morrow
inclined them to be.

Most of the Christmas shopping had been done days before, but some orders
were left with grocers and confectioners, and Grandma Elsie treated
generously to bonbons.

She allowed her children much greater latitude in such matters than her
father had permitted her in her early years.

The Ion carriage had scarcely turned out of the avenue, on its way to the
city, when one of the parlors became the scene of great activity and
mirth. A large Christmas tree was brought in and set up by the men
servants; then Lester and his Elsie, Violet, Edward and Zoe proceeded to
trim it.

That done they gave their attention to the adorning with evergreens the
walls of that and several other rooms, completing their labors and closing
the doors upon the tree some time before the return of the children.

"We shall have scarcely more than time to dress for tea," Grandma Elsie
said, as the carriage drew up at the door; "so go directly to your rooms,
my dears. Are you very tired, little Gracie?"

"No, ma'am, just a wee bit," said the child. "I'm getting so much
stronger, and we've had such a nice time, Grandma Elsie."

"I'll carry you up-stairs, little missy," said Tom, the servant man, who
opened the door for them, picking her up as he spoke.

"Bring her in here, Tom," Violet said, speaking from the door of her
dressing-room. "And will you come in too, Lulu dear?"

Violet was very careful never to give Lulu an order; her wishes when
addressing her were always expressed in the form of a request.

Lulu complied at once, Tom stepping back for her to enter first.

She was in high good-humor, having enjoyed her drive extremely.

"Mamma Vi," she exclaimed, "we've had a splendid time! It's just
delightful to be taken out by Grandma Elsie."

"Yes; I have always found it so," said Violet. "And how has your papa's
baby girl enjoyed herself?" drawing Gracie toward her, as Tom set her
down, and taking off her hat.

"Oh, ever so much! Mamma how beautiful you look! I wish papa was here to
see you."

"That's just what I was thinking," said Lulu. "You _are_ beautiful, Mamma
Vi, and then you always wear such very pretty and becoming things."

"I am glad you approve my taste in dress," Violet said, laughing. "And
what do you think of those?" with a slight motion of her hand in the
direction of the bed.

Both little girls turned to look, then with a little cry of surprise and
delight hastened to give a closer inspection to what they saw there--two
pretty dresses of soft, fine white cashmere, evidently intended for them,
each with sash and ribbons lying on it, Lulu's of rose pink, Gracie's a
delicate shade of blue.

"O Mamma Vi! are they for us?" exclaimed Lulu.

"They were bought and made expressly for my two dear little girls; for
them to wear to-night," said Violet. "Do they suit your taste, dears?"

"They are just beautiful, my dear, sweet, pretty mamma," cried Gracie,
running to her and half smothering her with hugs and kisses.

"There, pet, that will do," said Violet, laughing, as she returned a
hearty kiss, then gently disengaged the child's arms from her neck; "we
must make haste to array you in them before the tea-bell rings," and
taking Gracie's hand, she led her toward the bed.

Lulu was standing there smoothing down the folds of her new dress, and
noting, with a thrill of pleasure, how prettily the rich sash and ribbons
contrasted with its creamy whiteness. "Mamma Vi," she said, looking up
into her young stepmother's face, her expression a mixture of penitence
and gratitude, "how good you and Grandma Elsie are to me! Indeed,
everybody here is good to me; though I--I'm so bad-tempered."

"You have been very good of late, dear," Violet said, bending down to kiss
her forehead, "and it is a dear delight to me to do all I can to make my
husband's children happy."

Agnes now came to Violet's assistance, and when the tea-bell rang, a few
minutes later, the two little girls were quite ready to descend with their
mamma to the supper-room.

Grandma Elsie looked in on her way down, and Violet said, sportively,
"See, mamma, I have my dolls dressed."

"Yes," Elsie returned, with a smile, "you were always fond of dressing
dolls," and, passing a hand over Gracie's curls and touching Lulu's cheek
caressingly with the other, "these are better worth it than any you have
had heretofore."

"Grandma Elsie," said Lulu in her fearless, straightforward way, and
gazing with earnest, affectionate scrutiny into the fair face, "you don't
look as if you could be mother to Mamma Vi and Aunt Elsie and Uncle
Edward."

"Why, my child?" laughed the lady addressed; "can't you see a
resemblance?"

"Oh, yes, ma'am! but you look so young, not so very much older than they
do."

They were now passing through the upper hall. Walter had hold of his
mother's hand, and Rosie had just joined them.

"That is true," she remarked, and I am so glad of it! I couldn't bear to
have my dear, beautiful mamma grow old, and wrinkled, and gray."

"Yet it will have to be some day, Rosie, unless she is laid away out of
sight before the time comes for those changes," the mother answered with
gentle gravity.

There were various exclamations of surprise and pleasure from the children
as they entered the supper-room. Its walls were beautifully trimmed with
evergreens, and bouquets of hot-house flowers adorned the table, filling
the air with delicious fragrance.

When the meal was over, all adjourned to the parlor usually occupied by
them when not entertaining company. This, too, they found trimmed with
evergreens, and while the children were looking about and commenting upon
the taste displayed in their arrangement, the folding doors communicating
with another parlor were suddenly thrown open, disclosing the grand
achievement of the afternoon--the beautiful Christmas tree--tall,
wide-spreading, glittering with lights and tinsel ornaments, gorgeous with
gay colors, and every branch loaded down with gifts.

It was greeted with a burst of admiration and applause.

"What a beauty!" cried Rosie and Lulu, clapping their hands.

"And how large!" exclaimed Max, "three times as big as any I ever saw
before."

Walter and Gracie were no less enthusiastic in their admiration. "May we
go close up, mamma?" asked the latter.

"Yes, 'course we may," said Walter, seizing her hand, "we'll walk round it
and look hard at the things, but not touch 'em."

Older people followed the lead of the little ones, and the tree was
thoroughly examined by many pairs of eyes, gazed at from every point of
view, and highly extolled, before the work of despoiling it was begun.

The gifts were far too many to mention in detail. The older people seemed
much pleased with some easels, brackets, and picture-frames carved for
them by Max and Lulu, and with specimens of Zoe's and Rosie's handiwork in
another line; also with some little gems of art from the pencils or
brushes of Lester, Elsie, and Violet, while the children were made happy
with presents suited to the years and taste of each.

Lulu was almost wild with delight over a set of pink coral, as nearly like
that she had lost by her misconduct some months before, as Grandma Elsie
had been able to find.

Then there was a beautiful, thoroughly furnished work-box from Mamma Vi,
with "actually a gold thimble in it," to encourage her in learning to sew.
One for Gracie also exactly like it, except that Lulu's was lined with red
satin and Gracie's with blue. Each had beside a new doll with a neat
little trunk packed full of clothes made to fit it, and a box filled with
pretty things to make up into doll clothes.

Max was greatly surprised and delighted by finding himself the possessor
of a watch, doubly valuable to him as his father's gift.

The gold thimbles of the little girls were also from papa.

They had a number of other presents, but these were what they valued most
highly.

It took quite a good while to distribute the gifts and for each to examine
and admire all his own and those of his neighbors; then Gracie, tired with
excitement and the long drive of the afternoon, was ready to go to bed.

Mamma Vi went with her, as was her custom, and Max and Lulu followed. They
had grown quite fond of Violet's half-sisterly, half-motherly talks with
them at the close of the day, and to her it was a source of deep joy and
thankfulness that she could perceive that she was influencing them--her
dear husband's tenderly loved offspring--for good.

She warmly sympathized in their pleasure to-night, chatted with them about
what they had given and received, praising highly the picture-frame and
easel they had presented her--and in regard to the entries to be made in
each of their diaries.

She left them in her boudoir busy with these when she returned to the
parlor.

"O Max," said Lulu, "how different Mamma Vi is from Aunt Beulah."

"Humph, I should think so," said Max, "must have been made of a different
kind o' dust. We weren't so well off and happy last Christmas eve, Lu."

"No, indeed! Gracie and I wanted a Christmas tree ever so much, and begged
and coaxed for one, even if it was but a wee bit of a thing; but she
wouldn't let us have it, said it was just nonsense and a wicked waste."

"Just like her," remarked Max, in a tone of mingled aversion and contempt;
"but don't let's talk about her. I'd rather think of pleasanter subjects.
Wasn't it splendid in papa to give me this watch?" pulling it out and
gazing on it with pride and delight. "Isn't it a beauty?"

"Yes; and I'm as glad as I can be that you have it, Max," Lulu responded
affectionately. "And wasn't it good in him to give gold thimbles to Gracie
and me? I shall try very hard to learn to sew nicely, to show him I'm
grateful for it and all he does for me."

"That's right, Lu; let's both do our best to improve all our
opportunities, so that we will make his heart glad. And we can do that in
another way, too."

"How?"

"By loving Mamma Vi, and being as good to her as ever we know how."

"I do mean to, for she is good and kind to us," said Lulu, in a frankly
cordial tone.

"You were vexed at papa at first for marrying her," remarked Max, with a
roguish look; "but just suppose he'd taken Mrs. Scrimp instead."

"O Max!" cried Lulu, her eyes flashing, "how can you talk so? You know
papa would never have thought of such a thing."

"I don't believe he would, but Ann told me once she knew Mrs. Scrimp would
be glad enough to take him if he'd give her the chance. What would you
have done if he had?"

"I don't know, and it isn't worth while to consider," replied Lulu, with a
grown-up air she occasionally assumed, much to Max's amusement. "But my
writing's done, and I'm going to bed, for I'm tired and sleepy. So
good-night."

"Good-night," returned Max. "I sha'n't be in a hurry to get to bed, for it
won't be worth while to get up early to catch other folks, as all the
things have been given to-night. I almost wish they had let us wait till
to-morrow morning."

Perhaps the remark was intended to throw Lulu off her guard; at all events
he was at her door with a "Merry Christmas," before any one else was
stirring but the servants.

Lulu was awake, too, sitting up in bed and trying, in the dim light of the
early dawn, to undo a small paper parcel she had found on her pillow.

Max had opened the door and given his greeting in a subdued tone that
there might be no danger of disturbing any sleeper in the vicinity.

"Oh!" cried Lulu, in a voice of suppressed eagerness, "the same to you!
Come in and see what Santa Claus has brought me."

Max stepped in, closed the door, and tiptoeing to a window, raised the
blind and drew back the curtain.

"O Max, Max; just see!" cried Lulu, as he turned toward her again.

She had succeeded in her efforts, and was now holding up her hand in a way
to display to advantage a very pretty gold ring.

"Yes; oh, I'm glad, Lu! And there's something else, isn't there?"

"Money! a good deal, isn't it, Max?" she asked, holding out a crisp new
bank-note.

"Five dollars," he answered, taking it to the light. "And I have just the
same; found it on my pillow, from papa; and s'pose yours is, too. A gold
pencil from Mamma Vi was there also."

"Yes; from papa," she said, examining the writing on the back of the
envelope from which she had taken the note, "and the ring's from Mamma Vi.
She always finds out just what I want. I'd rather have had a ring than
almost anything else."

"There, we have waked her and Gracie, I'm afraid," said Max, in a tone of
self-reproach, as the voices of the two were heard coming from the next
room.

"Merry Christmas, Max and Lulu," both called out in cheery tones, and the
greeting was returned with added thanks to Violet for her gifts.

"I have some, too," Gracie said; "a lovely picture-book and two kinds of
money. I think I'm the richest."

She had received a one-dollar bill, crisp and new like the others, and a
quarter eagle in gold, and could not be convinced that the two did not
amount to more than Max's or Lulu's five-dollar note.

The other members of the family had fared quite as well. The children had
a very merry day; the older people were quietly happy.

There were fresh flowers on the graves in the family burial-ground, even
the dead had not been forgotten. Elsie Travilla had been early bending
over the lowly mound that covered all that was mortal of her heart's best
earthly treasure, and though the sweet face was calm and serene as was its
wont, bearing no traces of tears, the cheery words and bright smile came
readily in sympathy with the mirth of the younger ones; her father and
older children, noting the occasional far-off look in the soft brown eyes,
knew that her thoughts were ever and anon with the husband of her youth.




CHAPTER XII.

                            "Oh! only those
    Whose souls have felt this one idolatry,
    Can tell how precious is the slightest thing
    Affection gives and hallows! A dead flower
    Will long be kept, remembrancer of looks
    That made each leaf a treasure."
                        --Miss Landon.


The whole family connection living in the neighborhood had dined at Ion
that Christmas day, and several had stayed to tea. But all had now gone,
the good-nights had been said among the members of the home circle, and
Elsie Travilla was alone in her own apartments.

A little weary with the cares and excitement of the day, she was half
reclining on a sofa, in dressing-gown and slippers, her beautiful hair
unbound and rippling over her shoulders, beside her a jewel-box of ebony
inlaid with mother-of-pearl.

It stood open, and the lamplight falling upon its contents was flashed
back from many a costly gem set in rings, brooches, lockets and chains of
gold.

She took them up, one by one, gazing upon each for a minute or more with a
smile, a sigh, or a falling tear, ere she laid it almost tenderly back in
its place.

So absorbed was she in the contemplation of these mementoes of the past
and the memories called up by them, that she did not hear an approaching
footstep, and deemed herself quite alone, till a hand was laid gently on
her head, and a voice said tenderly, "My darling!"

"Dear papa!" she responded, glancing up into his face with tear-dimmed
eyes, as he stood at the back of her sofa, bending over her. "Let me give
you a chair," and she would have risen to do so, but he forced her gently
back.

"No; lie still. I will help myself." And coming round in front of her, he
seated himself close at her side.

"Why look at these, if it makes you sad, my child?" he asked, noticing her
occupation.

"There is sometimes a sweetness in the tears called forth by pleasant
memories of loved ones gone before, papa," she said. "These anniversaries
will recall the dear husband who always remembered his little wife so
kindly upon each, and there is a melancholy pleasure in looking over his
Christmas gifts, I have them all here, beginning with this--the very
first. Do you remember it, papa? And this Christmas day when he gave it to
me? the first Christmas that you were with me."

She was holding up a tiny gold thimble.

"Yes, I think I do," he said. "I certainly remember the day, the first
Christmas after my return from Europe, the first on which I heard myself
addressed as papa--the sweetest of child voices calling me that, and
wishing me a merry Christmas, as the dearest, loveliest of little girls
ran into my arms. Dear daughter, what a priceless treasure you have been
to me ever since!" he added, bending over her and softly smoothing her
hair. "It has always been a joy to call you mine."

She caught his hand in hers and pressed it to her lips. "Yes, dear, dear
father! and to me to be so called. We loved one another very dearly then,
each was all the other had, and I think our mutual love has never been
less because of the other many tender ties God has given us since."

"I am sure you are right, daughter, but at that time," he added with a
smile, "you were not willing to share your father's love with another; at
least with one other whom you suspected of trying to win it. Do you
remember how you slipped away to your bed without bidding your papa
good-night, and cried yourself to sleep?"

"Yes, foolish child that I was!" she said, with a low musical laugh; "and
how you surprised me the next morning by your knowledge of my fears, and
then set them all at rest, like the dear, kind father that you were and
always have been."

"No, not always," he sighed.

"Yes, papa, always," she said with playful tenderness. "I will insist upon
that; because even when most severe with me, you did what at the time you
deemed your duty, and believed to be for my good."

"Yes, that is true, my dear, forgiving child! and yet I can never think of
the suffering you endured during the summer that succeeded the Christmas
we have been talking of, without keen remorse."

"Yet, long before the next Christmas came I was happier than ever," she
said, looking up into his face with a smile full of filial love. "It was
the first in our own dear home at the Oaks, you remember, papa. You gave
me a lovely set of pearls--necklace and bracelets--and this," taking up a
pearl ring, "was Edward's gift. Mr. Travilla he was to me then, and no
thought of one day becoming his wife even so much as entered my head. But
years afterward he told me he had it in his mind even then; had already
resolved to wait till I grew up and win me for his wife if he could."

"Yes, he told me after you were grown and he had offered himself, that it
had been love at first sight with him, little child that you were when he
first made your acquaintance. That surprised me, though less than the
discovery that you fancied one so many years your senior."

"But so good, so noble, so lovable!" she said. "Surely, it was not half so
strange, papa, as that he should fancy a foolish young thing such as I was
then; not meaning that I am yet very greatly improved," she added, with a
half tearful smile.

"I am fully satisfied with you just as you are," he said, bending down
over her and touching his lips two or three times to her forehead, "My
darling, my first-born and best-beloved child! no words can express the
love and tenderness I feel for you, or my pity for the grief which is
beyond my power to relieve."

"Dear papa, your sympathy is very sweet," she said in tremulous tones,
"very, very sweet in itself, and it helps me to a fuller realization of
the depth of meaning in those sweet words, 'Like as a father pitieth his
children, so the Lord pitieth them that fear Him.'"

"You cannot be wholly miserable while that precious love and pity are
yours, my dear child, even if all earthly loves should be taken from you,
which may God forbid should ever happen."

"No, papa; dearly as I loved my husband, I am happy in that divine love
still mine, though parted from him; and dearly as I love you and my
children, I know that were you all taken from me, I could still rejoice in
the love of Him who died for me, and who has said, 'I am with you alway,
even unto the end of the world.' 'I will never leave thee nor forsake
thee.' 'I have loved thee with an everlasting love.'"

Silence fell between them for some moments, both seemingly wrapped in
thought; then Mr. Dinsmore said inquiringly, "You will go to Roselands
to-morrow?"

"Yes, papa, if you go, as I heard you say you intended, and nothing
happens to prevent. Rosie was particularly delighted with Cal's
invitation," she added, smiling up at him, "because I had been telling the
story of those Christmas holidays that we have been discussing, to her and
the other children, and naturally she wants to look upon the scene of all
those important events."

"It will not be by any means her first visit to Roselands," he remarked in
a tone of surprise.

"Oh, no, sir! only the first after hearing of those interesting episodes
in her mother's life."

"But the house is not the same."

"No, sir; yet the hall and parlors, your rooms and mine are about where
and what they were in the old house."

"Ah! well I hope Rosie will enjoy it. And that you may do so, I shall
leave you now, begging you to go at once to bed. Good-night, daughter."

"Good-night, my dearest, best of fathers," she responded, putting her arms
round his neck as he stooped to give her a parting caress.

Calhoun and Arthur Conly were now joint proprietors at Roselands. "Aunt
Maria," an old negress born and bred on the estate, was their housekeeper,
and managed so well that they found themselves as comfortable as in the
days of their mother's administration.

They, with one younger sister and brother, were all of the once large
family now left to occupy the old home, and these younger two were there
now only for the Christmas holidays, and at their close would return to
distant boarding-schools. Ella, the sister, was eighteen; Ralph two years
younger.

The house whence the mother and grandfather had been carried out to their
last long home but a few months before, could not be made the scene of
mirth and jollity, but to a day of quiet social intercourse with near and
dear relatives and friends none could object; so the family at Ion had
been invited to dine there the next day, and had accepted the invitation.

Lulu had been greatly interested in Grandma Elsie's party of children as
it told of had been invited to Ion for these holidays; but she did not
covet such a father as Mr. Dinsmore; he was much too strict and severe,
she thought, with all his petting and caressing, and she would far rather
have her own papa. Still Grandma Elsie's lot, when a little girl, seemed
to her an enviable one, so beautiful and so rich, and with a nice old
mammy always ready to wait on and do everything for her; and she (Lulu)
was sure she wouldn't have minded much when such a father as Mr. Dinsmore
was vexed with her; he wouldn't have found it so easy to manage her; no
indeed! She almost thought she should enjoy trying her strength in a tilt
with him even now.

Lulu was a rebel by nature, and ever found it difficult to combat the
inclination to defy authority and assert her entire independence of
control.

But fortunately this inclination was in great measure counterbalanced by
the warmth of her affections. She was ready to love all who treated her
with justice and kindness, and her love for her father was intense. To
please him she would do or endure almost anything; that more than any
other influence had kept her on her good behavior all these weeks.

She had sometimes rebelled inwardly, but there had been no greater
outward show of it than a frown or a pout, which soon vanished under the
kind and gentle treatment she received at the hands of Grandma Elsie and
Mamma Vi.

Captain Raymond would have been much gratified could he have seen how, not
only she, but all his children, were improving morally, mentally and
physically in the wholesome atmosphere of their new home.

Gracie had gained largely in strength and vivacity, her cheeks were
rounder and rosier than when she came to Ion, her eyes brighter; and
though not yet equal to violent exercise, she could enjoy quiet plays, and
would often laugh right merrily.

She had grown very fond of Dr. Conly, or Cousin Arthur as he told her to
call him, and he of his little patient. She was frequently hovering about
him during Christmas day; and received a special invitation to Roselands.

"You and your mamma are to be my particular guests," he said, "and if you
fail to enjoy yourselves it shall be from no fault of mine."

"We shall not fail," Violet said with confidence. "How could we with Cal
and yourself for our hosts?"

The day proved propitious, all went and all enjoyed their visit, though to
the older ones there was at first a feeling of subdued sadness in
thinking of the old grandfather, whose chair was now vacant, and who had
been wont to greet their coming with words of cordial welcome.

It was after dinner that Rose claimed her mother's promise.

"Well," said Elsie, glancing dreamily about, "this parlor where we are all
sitting occupies the same part of the house, and is almost exactly like
the one where the scenes I told you of took place."

"What scenes?" asked Dr. Conly, drawing near, with a look of interest.

Mr. Dinsmore, too, turned to listen.

"I have been telling the children about the Christmas holidays at
Roselands the first winter after my father's return from Europe," she
answered. "It was before you were born, Cousin Arthur, while your mother
was still a very young girl."

"Mamma," asked Rosie, "where was grandpa sitting when you went to him and
confessed that you had let Carry Howard cut off one of your curls?"

"Near yonder window. Do you remember it, papa?" she asked, looking
smilingly at him.

"Yes, I think I have forgotten very little that ever passed between us.
You were a remarkably honest, conscientious child--would come and confess
wrong-doing that I should never have known or suspected, even when you
thought it likely I should punish you severely for it."

"Now, mamma," said Rosie, "won't you go into the hall with us and show us
just where papa caught you, and kissed you, and gave you the gold thimble?
And then your room and grandpa's?"

"Arthur, have we your permission to roam over the house?" Elsie asked,
turning to him.

"Yes; provided you will let me go along, for I am as much interested as
the children."

"Come, then," she said, rising and taking Walter's hand, Rosie, Lulu, and
Gracie keeping close to her, and Mr. Dinsmore and Arthur following.

Pausing in the hall, she pointed out the precise spot where the little
scene had been enacted between herself and him who was afterward her
husband, telling the story between a smile and a tear, then moved on up
the stairs with her little procession.

Opening a door, "This was my room," she said, "or rather my room was here
before the old house was burned down. It looks just the same, except that
the furniture is different."

Then passing on to another, "This was papa's dressing-room. I have passed
many happy hours here, sitting by his side or on his knee. It was here I
opened the trunk full of finery and toys that he brought me a few days
before that Christmas.

"Papa," turning smilingly to him, and pointing to a closed door on the
farther side of the room, "do you remember my imprisonment in that
closet?"

"Yes," he answered, with a remorseful look, "but don't speak of it. How
very ready I was to punish you for the most trifling fault."

"Indeed, papa," she answered earnestly, "it was no such trifle, for I had
disobeyed a plain order not to ask a second time for permission to do what
you had once forbidden."

"True; but I now see that a child so sensitive, conscientious and
affectionate as you were, would have been sufficiently punished by a mild
rebuke."

"A year or two later you discovered and acted upon that," she said, with
an affectionate look up into his face. "But at this time you were a very
young father; and when I remember how you took me on your knee, by the
fire there, and warmed my hands and feet, petting and fondling me, and
what a nice evening I had with you afterward, I could almost wish to go
through it all again."

"Hark! what was that?" exclaimed Rosie.

Every one paused to listen.

There was a sound of sobbing as of a child in sore distress, and it
seemed to come from the closet.

"There's somebody shut up there now," Walter said in a loud, excited
whisper. "Grandpa, can't she be let out?"

Arthur strode hastily across the room and threw the closet door wide open.

There was no one there. They glanced at each other in surprise and
perplexity.

"Ah, ha, ah, ha! um, h'm! ah, ah! the lassie's no there, eh?" said a voice
behind them, and turning quickly at the sound, whom should they see but
Mr. Lilburn standing in the open doorway leading to the hall.

"But we know all about her now, sir," said Arthur with a laugh, in which
he was joined by every one present.




CHAPTER XIII.

    "Evil communications corrupt good manners."
                             --1 _Cor._ 15:33.


The one drawback upon Max's perfect enjoyment of his new home was the lack
of a companion of his own age and sex; the only boys in the family
connection, or among the near neighbors, were nearly grown to manhood or
very little fellows.

Therefore, when Ralph Conly came home for the Christmas holidays, and
though four years older than himself, at once admitted him to a footing of
intimacy, Max was both pleased and flattered.

Ralph's manner, to be sure, was more condescending than was altogether
agreeable, but that seemed not inexcusable, considering his superiority in
years and knowledge of the world.

At Ion, Max played the part of host, taking Ralph up to his own bedroom to
show him his books and other treasures, to the boys' work-room, out to the
stables to see the horses, and about the grounds.

To-day, at Roselands, it was Ralph's turn to entertain. He soon drew Max
away from the company in the parlors, showed him the horses and dogs, then
invited him to take a walk.

It was near dinner time when they returned. After dinner he took him to
his room, and producing a pack of cards, invited him to play.

"Cards!" exclaimed Max. "I don't know anything about playing with them,
and don't want to."

"Why not? are you too pious?" Ralph asked with a sneer, tumbling them out
in a heap upon the table.

"I've always been taught that men gamble with cards, and that gambling is
very wicked and disgraceful, quite as bad as getting drunk."

"Pooh! you're a muff!"

"I'd rather be a muff than a gambler, any day," returned Max with spirit.

"Pshaw! 'tisn't gambling, unless you play for money, and I haven't asked
you to do that, and don't propose to. Come now, take a hand," urged Ralph
persuasively. "There isn't a bit more harm in it than in a game of ball."

"But I don't know how," objected Max.

"I'll teach you," said Ralph. "You'll soon learn and will find it good
sport."

At length Max yielded, though not without some qualms of conscience which
he tried to quiet by saying to himself, "Papa never said I shouldn't play
in this way; only that gambling was very wicked, and I must never go where
it was done."

"Have a cigar?" said Ralph, producing two, handing one to Max, and
proceeding to light the other. "You smoke, of course; every gentleman
does."

Max never had, and did not care to, but was so foolish as to be ashamed to
refuse after that last remark of Ralph's; beside having seen his father
smoke a cigar occasionally, he thought there could be no harm in it.

"Thank you, I don't care if I do," he said, and was soon puffing away as
if quite accustomed to it.

But it was not many minutes before he began to feel sick and faint, then
to find himself trembling and growing giddy.

He tried to conceal his sensations, and fought against them as long as
possible. But at length, finding he could endure it no longer, he threw
the stump of the cigar into the fire, and rising, said, "I--I feel sick. I
must get out into the air."

He took a step forward, staggered, and would have fallen, if Ralph had not
jumped up and caught him.

"Here, I'll help you to the bed and open the window," he said. "Never
smoked before? Well, don't be discouraged; I was deathly sick first time
myself."

"I'm half blind and awfully sick," groaned Max, as he stretched himself on
the bed. "Does it last long? can a fellow get over it without taking any
medicine?"

"Oh, yes; you'll be all right after a little."

But Max was not all right when a servant came to the door to say that he
was wanted down-stairs, as the party from Ion were about to return home.

"Think you can get down with the help of my arm?" asked Ralph.

"Don't b'lieve he kin, Marse Ralph," remarked the servant, gazing
earnestly at Max. "What's de mattah wid de young gentleman? He's white as
de wall, and his eyes looks like glass."

"Hush, Sam! you'll frighten him," whispered Ralph. "Run down and ask my
brother Arthur to come up. Don't let anybody else hear you."

Max had tried to rise, but only to fall back again sicker than ever.

"Oh, but I'm sick, and how my heart beats!" he said. "I can't possibly sit
up, much less walk down-stairs. What will Mamma Vi and the rest say? I'm
afraid Grandpa Dinsmore will be very angry with me."

"He hasn't any right to be," said Ralph; "'tisn't wicked to smoke. But
I'll tell Art not to let him know what made you sick."

Just then the doctor came in. Sam had met him in the hall.

"What's the matter?" he asked; "sick, Max? Ah, you've been smoking?"
sniffing the air of the room and glancing at the boy's pallid face.

"Tell him it isn't dangerous. Art," laughed Ralph, "for I do believe he's
dreadfully scared."

"No, I'm not!" protested Max indignantly, "but I'm sick, and giddy, and
half blind. I never smoked before, and didn't know it would sicken me so."

"How many cigars have you smoked?" asked Arthur, taking hold of his wrist.

"Only half a one," said Ralph; "he threw the rest of it in the fire."

"The best place for it," said Arthur. "Don't be alarmed, my boy, the
sickness and all the other bad effects will pass off after a while; all
the sooner if you are breathing pure air. Ralph, open the door into the
hall and the one opposite. Then ring for Sam to kindle a fire in that
room."

As he spoke he took Max in his arms, and, Ralph preceding them to open the
doors, carried him into an unoccupied bedroom, laid him on a couch, and
covered him up carefully to guard against his taking cold.

"No need to ring for Sam; fire's laid all ready to kindle," remarked
Ralph, glancing at the open grate.

He struck a match, and in another minute the flames were leaping up right
merrily.

Meantime a report that Max was sick had reached the parlor, and Mr.
Dinsmore, his daughter, and granddaughter came up to express their
sympathy and see for themselves how serious the illness was. Their faces
were full of anxiety and concern till they learned the cause of the
sickness, when they evidently felt much relieved.

"Dear boy, I'm sorry you are suffering," Violet said, leaning over him,
"but I hope you will never try it again."

"Papa smokes," he said, "so I thought it was all right for me."

"No," said Mr. Dinsmore; "a grown person may sometimes do safely what is
dangerous for a younger one. You have my sympathy this time, Max, but if
ever you make yourself sick in the same way again, I don't think I shall
pity you at all. He will hardly be able to go home to-day, Arthur?"

"No, sir; leave him here in my care. To-morrow he will probably be quite
recovered, and I will drive him over in my gig."

"Would you like me to stay with you, Max?" Violet asked, laying her cool
hand on his forehead.

"Or me?" asked her mother.

"No, thank you, Grandma Elsie and Mamma Vi," he said. "You are both very
kind, but Walter and Gracie wouldn't know what to do without you; and I
shall do very well."

"Yes," said Ralph, "I'll help Art take care of him. I ought to, as I gave
him the cigar that sickened him so."

Mr. Dinsmore and the ladies then bade good-by and went down-stairs, the
doctor accompanying them, leaving the two boys alone together.

"Do you begin to get over it, old fellow?" asked Ralph.

"No; I'm wretchedly sick," said Max. "I think I've had enough tobacco to
last me all my days."

"O pshaw! it won't be half so bad next time, and pretty soon won't sicken
you at all."

"But what should I gain to pay me for all the suffering?"

"Well, it seems sort o' babyish not to smoke."

"Does it? I've never seen Grandpa Dinsmore smoke, and I don't believe he
ever does, nor Uncle Edward, nor Uncle Horace either."

"No, they don't, and Art doesn't, but they're all sort o' pious old
fogies," Ralph said, with a coarse laugh.

"I wouldn't talk so about my own relations, if I were you," returned Max,
in a tone of disgust.

"Of course I shouldn't let anybody else say a word against them," said
Ralph.

Arthur's entrance put an end to the conversation. He inquired of Max if
the sickness were abating; then sitting down beside him, "Boys," he said,
"I want to talk to you a little about this silly business of smoking and
chewing."

"I've never chewed," said Max.

"I'm glad to hear it, and I hope you never will, or smoke again either.
How would you like, Max, to have a cancer on your lip?"

"Cancer, sir? I wouldn't choose to have one for anything in the world."

"Then don't smoke, especially a short pipe, for it often causes cancer of
the lip. I cut one out of a man's lip the other day; and not long ago saw
a man die from one after months of agonizing pain. Tobacco contains a
great deal of virulent poison, and though some persons use it for many
years without much apparent injury, it costs many others loss of health
and even of life. It weakens the nerves and the action of the heart, and
is a fruitful source of dyspepsia."

"Pooh! I don't believe it will ever hurt me," said Ralph.

"I think it will," said Arthur; "you have not yet attained your growth,
and therefore are the more certain to be injured by its use.

"Max, my boy, I admire your father greatly, particularly his magnificent
physique."

Max flushed with pleasure.

"Do you not wish to be like him in that? as tall and finely developed?"

"Yes, sir; yes, indeed! I want to be like papa in everything!"

"Then eschew tobacco, for it will stunt your growth!"

"But papa smokes," repeated Max.

"Now, but probably he did not until grown," said Arthur. "And very likely
he sometimes wishes he had never contracted the habit. Now I must leave
you for a time, as I have some other patients to visit."

"I told you he was an old fogy," said Ralph, as the door closed on his
brother, adding with an oath, "I believe he wouldn't allow a fellow a bit
of pleasure if he could help it."

Max started, and looked at Ralph with troubled eyes. "I didn't think you
would swear," he said. "If you do, I--I can't be intimate with you,
because my father won't allow it."

"I don't often," said Ralph, looking ashamed, "I won't again in your
company."




CHAPTER XIV.

    "Be sure your sin will find you out."
                     --_Num._ 32:33.


Gracie and Walter were in the play-room. They had been building
block-houses for an hour or more, when Gracie, saying, "I'm tired, Walter,
I'm going in yonder to see the things Max and Lulu are making," rose and
sauntered into the work-room.

She watched the busy carvers for some minutes, then went down to Violet's
apartments in search of her.

She found no one there but Agnes busied in putting away some clean
clothes, fresh from the iron.

"Where's mamma?" asked the little girl.

"In de drawin'-room, Miss Gracie. Comp'ny dar."

"Oh, dear!" sighed Gracie, "I just wanted her to talk to me."

"'Spect you hab to wait till de comp'ny am gone," returned Agnes, picking
up her empty clothes-basket and leaving the room.

Gracie wandered disconsolately about the rooms, wishing that the callers
would go and mamma come up. Presently she paused before the bureau in
Violet's dressing-room, and began fingering the pretty things on it.

She was not usually a meddlesome child, but just now was tempted to
mischief from the lack of something else to interest and employ her.

She handled the articles carefully, however, and did them no damage till
she came to a beautiful cut-glass bottle filled with a costly perfume of
which she was extravagantly fond.

Violet had frequently given her a few drops on her handkerchief without
being asked, and never refused a request for it.

Gracie, seized with a desire for it, took a clean handkerchief from a
drawer and helped herself, saying half aloud, by way of quieting her
conscience, "Mamma would give it to me if she was here, she always does,
and I'll be careful not to break the bottle."

She was pouring from it as she spoke. Just at that instant she heard a
step in the hall without, and a sound as if a hand was laid on the
door-knob.

It so startled her that the bottle slipped from her fingers, and striking
the bureau as it fell, lay in fragments at her feet; its contents were
spilled upon the carpet, and the air of the room was redolent of the
delicious perfume.

Gracie, naturally a timid child, shrinking from everything like reproof or
punishment, stood aghast at the mischief she had wrought.

"What will mamma say?" was her first thought. "Oh, I'm afraid she will be
so vexed with me that she'll never love me any more!" And the tears came
thick and fast, for mamma's love was very sweet to the little feeble
child, who had been so long without a mother's care and tenderness.

Then arose the wish to hide her fault. Oh, if she could only replace the
bottle! but that was quite impossible. Perhaps, though, there might be a
way found to conceal the fact that she was the author of the mishap; she
did not want to have any one else blamed for her fault, but she would like
not to be suspected of it herself.

A bright thought struck her. She had seen the cat jump on that bureau a
few days before and walk back and forth over it. If she (pussy) had been
left in the room alone there that afternoon she might have done the same
thing again, and knocked the bottle off upon the floor.

It would be no great harm, the little girl reasoned, trying to stifle the
warnings and reproaches of conscience, if she should let pussy take the
blame.

Mamma was kind, and wouldn't have pussy beaten, and pussy's feelings
wouldn't be hurt, either, by the suspicion.

She hurried out in search of the cat, found her in the hall, pounced on
her, carried her into the dressing-room, and left her there with all the
doors shut, so that she could not escape, till some one going in would
find the bottle broken, and think the cat had done it.

This accomplished, Gracie went back to the play-room and tried to forget
her wrong-doing in the interesting employment of dressing her dolls.

Lulu presently left her carving and joined her. Max had gone for a ride.

While chasing the cat Gracie had not perceived a little woolly head thrust
out of a door at the farther end of the hall, its keen black eyes closely
watching her movements.

"He, he, he!" giggled the owner of the head, as Gracie secured pussy and
hurried into the dressing-room with her, "wondah what she done dat fer!"

"What you talkin' 'bout, you sassy niggah?" asked Agnes, coming up behind
her on her way to Mrs. Raymond's apartments with another basket of clean
clothes, just as Gracie reappeared and hurried up the stairs to the story
above."

"Why, Miss Gracie done come pounce on ole Tab while she paradin' down de
hall, and ketch her up an' tote her off into Miss Wilet's dressin'-room,
an's lef her dar wid de do' shut on her. What for you s'pose she done do
dat?"

"Oh, go 'long! I don' b'lieve Miss Gracie didn't do no sich ting!"
returned Agnes.

"She did den, I seed her," asserted the little maid positively. "Mebbe she
heerd de mices runnin' 'round an want ole Tab for to ketch 'em."

"You go 'long and 'tend to yo' wuk. Bet, you lazy niggah," responded
Agnes, pushing past her. "Miss Wilet an Miss Gracie dey'll min' dere own
consarns widout none o' yo' help."

The child made no reply, but stole on tiptoe after Agnes.

Violet was coming up the front stairway, and reached the door of her
dressing-room, just in advance of the girl. Opening it she exclaimed at
the powerful perfume which greeted her nostrils, then catching sight of
the bottle lying in fragments on the floor.

"Who can have done this?" she asked in a tone of surprise not wholly free
from displeasure.

"De cat, mos' likely, Miss Wilet," said Agnes, setting down her basket and
glancing at puss who was stretched comfortably on the rug before the fire.
"I s'pect she's been running ober de bureau, like I see her do, mor'n
once 'fo' dis."

"She looks very quiet now," remarked Violet, "and if she did the mischief
it was certainly not intentional. But don't leave her shut up here again,
Agnes."

"She didn't do it, Agnes didn't," volunteered Betty, who had stolen in
after them; "it was Miss Gracie, Miss Wilet, I seed her ketch ole Tab out
in de hall dere, and put her in hyar, an' shut de do onto her, an' go off
up-stairs."

A suspicion of the truth flashed into Violet's mind; but she put it
resolutely from her; she would not believe Gracie capable of slyness and
deceit.

But she wanted the little girl, and sent Betty up with a message to that
effect, bidding her make haste, and as soon as she had attended to that
errand, brush up the broken glass and put it in the fire.

Betty ran nimbly up to the play-room, and putting her head in at the door,
said with a grin, "Miss Gracie, yo' ma wants you down in de
dressin'-room."

"What for?" asked Gracie, with a frightened look.

"Dunno, s'pect you fin' out when you gits dar."

"Betty, you're a saucy thing," said Lulu.

"S'pect mebbe I is, Miss Lu," returned the little maid with a broader grin
than before, apparently considering the remark quite complimentary, while
she held the door open for Gracie to pass out.

"Miss Gracie," she asked, as she followed Grace down the stairs, "what fo'
you shut ole Tab up in de dressin'-room? She's done gone an' broke Miss
Wilet's bottle what hab de stuff dat smell so nice, an' cose Miss Wilet
she don' like dat ar."

"What makes you say I put her in there, Betty?" said Gracie.

"Kase I seed you, he, he, he!"

"Did you?" asked Gracie, looking still more alarmed than at the summons to
the dressing-room. "Don't tell mamma, Betty. I'll give you a penny and
help you make a frock for your doll if you won't."

Betty's only answer was a broad grin and a chuckle as she sprang past
Gracie and opened the door for her.

Violet, seated on the farther side of the room, looked up with her usual
sweet smile. "See, Gracie dear, I am making a lace collar for you, and I
want to try it on to see if it fits."

"Now, Betty, get a dust-pan and brush and sweep up that glass. Don't leave
the least bit of it on the carpet, lest some one should tramp on it and
cut her foot."

"Some one has broken that cut-glass perfume bottle you have always admired
so much, Gracie. Aren't you sorry?"

"Yes, I am, mamma. I never touch your things when you're not here."

The words were out almost before Grace knew she meant to speak them, and
she was terribly frightened and ashamed. She had never thought she would
be guilty of telling a lie. She hung her head, her cheeks aflame.

Violet noted the child's confusion with a sorely troubled heart.

"No, dear," she said very gently, "I did not suspect you, but if ever you
should meet with an accident, or yield to temptation to do some mischief,
I hope you will come and tell me about it at once. You need not fear that
I will be severe with you, for I love you very dearly, little Gracie."

"Perhaps it was the cat knocked it off the bureau, mamma," said the child,
speaking low and hesitatingly. "I've seen her jump up there several
times."

"Yes; so have I, and she must not be left alone in here any more."

Betty had finished her work and was sent away. Agnes, too, had left the
room, so that Violet and Gracie were quite alone.

"Come, dear, I am quite ready to try this on." Violet said, holding up the
collar. "There, it fits very nicely," as she put it on the child and
gently smoothed it down over her shoulders. "But what is the matter, my
darling?" for tears were trembling on the long silken lashes that swept
Gracie's flushed cheeks.

At the question they began to fall in streams, while the little bosom
heaved with sobs. She pulled out a handkerchief from her pocket to wipe
her eyes, and a strong whiff of perfume greeted Violet's nostrils, telling
a tale that sent a pang to her heart.

Gracie was instantly conscious of it, as she, too, smelled the tell-tale
perfume, and stole a glance at her young stepmother's face.

"O mamma!" she sobbed, covering her face with her hands, "I did pour a
little on my handkerchief 'cause I knew you always let me have it, but I
didn't mean to break the bottle; it just slipped out o' my hands and fell
and broke."

Violet clasped her in her arms and wept bitterly over her.

"Mamma, don't cry," sobbed the child, "I'll save up all my money till I
can buy you another bottle, just like that."

"O Gracie, Gracie, it is not that!" Violet said, when emotion would let
her speak. "I valued the bottle as the gift of my dear dead father, but I
would rather have lost it a hundred times over than have my darling tell a
lie. It is so wicked, so wicked! God hates lying. He says, 'All liars
shall have their part in the lake that burneth with fire and brimstone.'
'He that speaketh lies shall not escape.' He says that Satan is the father
of lies, and that those who are guilty of lying are the children of that
wicked one.

"Have you forgotten how God punished Gehazi for lying by making him a
leper, and struck Ananias and Sapphira dead for the same sin? O my
darling, my darling, it breaks my heart to think you have both acted and
spoken a falsehood!" she cried, clasping the child still closer to her
bosom and weeping over her afresh.

Gracie, too, cried bitterly. "Mamma, mamma," she said, "will God never
forgive me? will He send me to that dreadful place?"

"He will forgive you if you are truly sorry for your sin because it is
dishonoring and displeasing to Him, and if you ask Him to pardon you for
Jesus' sake; and He will take away the evil nature that leads you to
commit sin, giving you a new and good heart, and take you to heaven when
you die.

"But no one can go to heaven who is not first made holy. The Bible bids us
follow 'holiness without which no man shall see the Lord.' And Jesus is a
Saviour from sin. 'Thou shalt call His name Jesus, for He shall save His
people from their sins.' Shall we kneel down now and ask Him to save you
from yours?"

"Yes, mamma," sobbed the child.

Violet's prayer was short and to the point. Then she held Gracie for some
time in her arms, while they mingled their tears together.

At length, "Gracie dear," she said, "I believe God has heard our prayer
and forgiven you. I am sure He has if you are truly sorry in your heart
and asked with it, and not only with your lips, for forgiveness; but I
want you to stay here alone for an hour and think it all over quietly, I
mean about your wrongdoing and God's willingness to forgive for Jesus'
sake, and that we could not have been forgiven and saved from sin and hell
if the dear Saviour had not died for us the cruel death of the cross.

"Oh, think what a dreadful thing sin must be that it could not be blotted
out except by Jesus suffering and dying in our stead! And think how great
was His love for us, when He was willing to lay down His own life that we
might live!"

Then with a kiss of tender motherly love, she went out and left the child
alone.

Gracie was sincerely penitent. She had always been taught that lying was a
dreadful sin, and had never before told a direct falsehood; but while in
her former home, Mrs. Scrimp's faulty management, joined to her own
natural timidity, had tempted her to occasional slyness and deceit, and
from these the descent to positive untruth was easy.

Violet's faithful dealing, and even more her evident deep distress because
of the sin against God of which her darling had been guilty, had so
convinced the child of the heinousness of her conduct that she was sorely
distressed because of it, and on being left alone, knelt down again and
pleaded for pardon with many bitter tears and sobs.

She had risen from her knees and was lying on a couch, still weeping, when
Lulu came into the room.

"Why, Gracie, what is the matter?" she asked, running to the couch and
bending over her little sister in tender concern.

"Don't ask me, Lulu, I don't want to tell you," sobbed Gracie, turning
away her blushing, tear-stained face.

"Mamma Vi has been scolding or punishing you for some little naughtiness,
I suppose," said Lulu, frowning.

"No, she hasn't!" cried Gracie indignantly; then hastily correcting
herself, "except that she said she wanted me to stay here alone for a
while. So you must go and leave me."

"I won't till you tell me what it was all about. What did you do? or was
it something you didn't do?"

"I don't want to tell you, 'cause you wouldn't ever do such a wicked
thing, and you--you'd despise me if you knew I'd done it," sobbed Gracie.

"No, I wouldn't. You are better than I am. Papa said I was worse than you
and Max both put together. So you needn't mind my knowing."

"I meddled and broke mamma's pretty bottle that her dead father gave her;
but she didn't scold me for that; not a bit; but--but 'cause I tried to
put the blame on puss, and--and said I--I never touched her things when
she wasn't here."

"O Gracie, that _was_ wicked! to say what wasn't true! I think papa would
have whipped you, for I've heard him say if there was anything he would
punish severely in one of his children, it was falsehood. But don't cry
so. I'm sure you're sorry and won't ever do it again."

"No, no! never, never! Mamma hugged me up in her arms and cried hard
'cause I'd been so wicked. And she asked Jesus to forgive me and make me
good, so I shouldn't have to go to that dreadful place. Now go away, Lu,
'cause she said I must stay alone."

"Yes, I will; but stop crying or you'll be sick," Lulu said, kissing
Gracie, then left the room and went to her own to make herself neat before
going down to join the family at tea.

Her thoughts were busy with Gracie and her trouble while she brushed her
hair, washed her hands, and changed her dress. "Poor, little weak thing,
she was frightened into it, of course, for it's the very first time she
ever told an untruth. I suppose Mamma Vi must have looked very cross about
the broken bottle; and she needn't, I'm sure, for she has plenty of money
to buy more. Such a shame! but I just knew she wouldn't always be kind to
us."

Thus Lulu worked herself up into a passion, quite forgetting, in her
unreasonable anger, how very mild was the punishment Violet had decreed to
Gracie (if indeed it was meant as such at all); so much less severe than
the one she herself had said their father would have been likely to
administer.

Max was riding without companion or attendant. He had taken the direction
of the village, but not with any thought of going there until, as he
reached its outskirts, it occurred to him that he was nearly out of wood
for carving, and that this would be a good opportunity for laying in a
supply.

The only difficulty was that he had not asked leave before starting, and
it was well understood that he was not at liberty to go
anywhere--visiting or shopping--without permission.

"How provoking!" he exclaimed half aloud. "I haven't time to go back and
ask leave, and a long storm may set in before to-morrow, and so my work be
stopped for two or three days. I'll just go on, for what's the difference,
anyhow? I'm almost there, and I know I'd have got leave if I'd only
thought of asking."

So on he went, made his purchase, and set off home with it.

He was rather late: a storm seemed brewing, and as he rode up the avenue
Violet was at the window looking out a little anxiously for him.

Mr. Dinsmore, hearing her relieved exclamation, "Ah, there he is!" came to
her side as Max was in the act of dismounting.

"The boy has evidently been into the town making a purchase," he said.
"Had he permission from you or any one, Violet?"

"Not from me, grandpa," she answered with reluctance.

"Did you give him leave, Elsie?" he asked, turning to his daughter. "Or
you, wife?"

Both answered in the negative, and with a very stern countenance Mr.
Dinsmore went out to the hall to meet the delinquent.

"Where have you been, Max?" he asked, in no honeyed accents.

"For a ride, sir," returned the lad respectfully.

"Not merely for a ride," Mr. Dinsmore said, pointing to the package in the
boy's hand; "you did not pick that up by the roadside. Where have you
been?"

"I stopped at Turner's just long enough to buy this wood that I shall need
for carving to-morrow. I should have asked leave, but forgot to do so."

"Then you should have come home and left the errand for another day. You
were well aware that in going without permission you were breaking rules.
You will go immediately to your room and stay there until this time
to-morrow."

"I think you're very hard on a fellow," muttered Max, flushing with
mortification and anger as he turned to obey.

Lulu, coming down the stairs, had heard and seen it all. She stood still
for a moment at the foot of the stairway, giving Mr. Dinsmore a look that,
had it been a dagger, would have stabbed him to the heart, but which he
did not see; then, just as the tea-bell rang, turned and began the ascent
again.

"Why are you going back, Lulu? did you not hear the supper bell?" asked
Mr. Dinsmore.

"Yes, sir," she answered, facing him again with flashing eyes, "but if my
brother is not to go to the table neither will I."

"Oh, very well," he said; "you certainly do not deserve a seat there after
such a speech as that. Go to your own room and stay there until you find
yourself in a more amiable and respectful mood."

It was exactly what she had intended to do, but because he ordered it, it
instantly became the thing she did not want to do.

However, she went into her room, and closing the door after her, not too
gently, said aloud with a stamp of her foot, "Hateful old tyrant!" then
walked on into Violet's dressing-room, where her si

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