Their talk was principally of the new home in prospect. Lulu had only driven past Woodburn several times; but Max had been taken there once by Dr. Conly, with whom he was almost as great a favorite as his sister Grace, and had seen not only the grounds, but one or two rooms of the mansion.

Lulu was eager to hear all he had to tell about the place, and he not at all averse to describing what he had seen.

So interested were they in the topic, that they reached the entrance to the Fairview grounds almost ere they were aware of it.

"Oh, we're here!" exclaimed Lulu, in some surprise. "Max, I'll stay outside, while you go up to the house, for—I—I can't bear to see aunt Elsie and the others."

Her eyes were downcast, her cheeks burning with blushes as she spoke.

"But you may as well get it over," said Max: "you'll have to see them all sometime."

"You don't care a bit, do you?" she said, in a hurt tone.

"Yes, I do; I'm right sorry for you; but I can't help your having to meet them sooner or later."

"But I'm afraid I won't be welcome to aunt Elsie. What if she should tell me to go out of the house, she didn't want such a bad girl there?"

"She isn't that kind of person," said Max. "But here comes Eva," as the little girl came tripping down the avenue to meet them.

She shook hands with Max, then threw her arms round Lulu, and kissed her.

"O Eva! I'm 'most ashamed to look at you," murmured Lulu, half averting her blushing face. "I shouldn't think you'd want me for your friend any more."

"I do, though: I love you dearly, and should have gone to your room yesterday if your papa had not refused to allow it," responded Evelyn, repeating her caress. "Come in and rest, both of you: aunt Elsie told me to ask you."

"I'm not sure that papa meant to give me permission to go into the house," said Lulu, hanging back.

"No,—come to think of it,—I don't believe he did," said Max. "Besides, it must be pretty near school-time; so if you are ready, Eva, and want to walk, we'll start back directly, and be glad to take you with us."

"Yes, I prefer to walk," she said: "I'll be ready in five minutes, and glad to have your company."

Mrs. Leland was on the veranda.

"Won't they come in?" she asked of Evelyn, as the child came hurrying up the steps.

"No, auntie: Lu is not quite certain that her papa gave her permission."

"Then, I'll go to them."

Lulu's eyes were on the ground, her cheeks hot with blushes, as Mrs. Leland drew near the rustic bench on which she and Max had seated themselves.

"Good-morning, my dears: I am sorry you cannot come in and sit a while," was her pleasant greeting. Then she shook hands with Max and kissed Lulu.

"I heard you were not well yesterday, Lulu: I hope you feel quite so this morning?"

"Yes, ma'am, thank you."

"I heard from Ion before breakfast, and am delighted that baby is still improving, as, no doubt, you are, both of you."

"Yes, indeed!" exclaimed Max.

"And I am gladder than words can tell," said Lulu, a tear rolling quickly down her cheek. "Aunt Elsie, I do love her! I think she is the nicest, sweetest baby I ever saw."

"Yes, my dear; and I have no doubt you intend to be the best of sisters to her."

"Oh, I do! I can't ever make up to her for—for hurting her so, though I did not mean to do it."

"Of course not: you couldn't be so cruel toward any baby, but especially your own sweet little sister," was the gentle, sweet-toned reply. "I am rejoiced, especially for you, my dears, and for your mamma, that your father is going to settle down here; for I know it will add greatly to your happiness, he is such a good husband and father, and you will so enjoy having a home of your own."

"Yes, aunt Elsie: we think it is the best thing that could have happened to us," replied Max.

Evelyn joined them at that moment; so they said good-by, and started on their way back to Ion.

"Eva," said Max, "have you heard about Woodburn?"

"No; what about it?"

"It's for sale, and perhaps papa will buy it."

"Oh, how nice that would be!" she exclaimed. "I've been there with aunt Elsie, and it's just a lovely place! It has a rather neglected look now; but it wouldn't take long to remedy that, and then it would be quite as handsome as Ion or Fairview, or any other place about here. Aren't you happy, Lu?"

"I shall be if papa gets it; but the best thing of all is, that he is to be with us all the time."

"Yes, of course," sighed Evelyn, thinking of the happy days when she had her father with her. "Lu," she said presently, "I know you are not to be sent away; but where are you to go to school?"

"To papa," replied Lulu, with a glad look and smile.

Evelyn sighed again. "The only part I regret," she remarked, "is that we have to give up being together in our studies,—you and I. Unless," she added the next moment, as if struck by a sudden thought, "your father would take me as a pupil too. But I wouldn't dare to ask it."

"I would," said Max: "I dare ask papa almost any thing,—unless it was leave to do something wrong,—and I'll undertake to sound him on the subject."

"I'm not afraid to ask him, either," said Lulu; "and he's so kind, I do believe he'll say yes, or at least that he'll do it if everybody else is agreed. Have you seen him, Eva?"

"Yes; and he had such a kind, fatherly manner toward me, that I fell in love with him at once. I believe I'd be glad to have him adopt me if he was badly in want of another daughter about my age," she added, with a merry look and smile.

"I believe he'd be the gainer if he could swap me off for you," said Lulu, catching her friend's tone; "but I'm very happy in feeling quite sure he would rather have me, bad as I am, just because I am his own."

"That makes all the difference in the world," said Evelyn; "and perhaps, on becoming acquainted with my faults, he might think them worse than yours."

It was not quite school-time when they reached Ion, and Evelyn proposed that they should spend the few intervening minutes in the grounds.

"I'd like to, ever so much," said Lulu; "but papa bade me go directly to my own room on getting home. So good-by," and she moved on resolutely in the direction of the house.

"Good-by. I'll see you again when school is out, if I can," Evelyn called after her.

Lulu's thoughts were so full of other things, she found great difficulty in fixing them upon her lessons. But saying to herself that it would be much too bad to fail in her first recitations to her father, she exerted her strong will to the utmost, and succeeded. She was quite ready for him when, at length, he came in.

But looking up eagerly from her book, "Papa," she asked, "have you, oh! have you, bought it?"

"Bought what?" he asked smilingly, as he sat down and drew her to his side.

"O papa! you know! Woodburn, I mean."

"I think I have secured it," he said, "and that it will make a very delightful home for us all."

"Oh, I am so glad!" she cried, throwing her arms round his neck, and giving him a vigorous hug. "When can we move in, papa?"

"In about two weeks, probably: can you stand having to wait for that length of time?"

"I s'pose I'll have to," she said, laughing a little ruefully. "It'll help very much that I'll have you here, and see you every day. Are you going to keep me shut up in this room all the time?"

"No: did I not tell you, you were no longer a prisoner?"

"Oh, yes, sir! but I—I don't care very much to—to be with Rosie and the rest."

"I prefer that you should not be, except when I am present," he returned gravely. "I want to keep you with me as much as possible; and would rather have you alone, or with Evelyn, Max, and Gracie only, when I am not with you."

"I like that best, too, papa," she replied humbly; "for I can't trust myself not to get into a passion with Rosie and her dog, and I suppose you can't trust me either."

"Not yet, daughter," he said gently; "but I hope the time will come when I can. Now we will attend to the lessons."

When the recitations were finished, "Papa," she said, with an affectionate, admiring look up into his face, "I think you are a very nice teacher: you make every thing so clear and plain, and so interesting. I'm so glad you're the gentleman who is to have charge of me," she added with a happy laugh.

"So am I," he said, caressing her. "I am very glad, very thankful, to be able to take charge of all my own children; and whatever I may lack in experience and ability as a teacher, I hope to make up in the deep interest I shall always feel in the welfare and progress of my pupils."

She then told him of Evelyn's wish, concluding With, "Won't you, dear papa? I'd like it so much, and Eva is such a good girl you wouldn't have a bit of trouble managing her. She's just as different from me as possible."

"Quite a recommendation; and if I were as sure of proving a competent teacher, I should not hesitate to grant your request. But it is a new business to me, and perhaps it would not be wise for me to undertake the tuition of more than my own three at present. However," he added, seeing her look of disappointment, "I will take the matter into consideration."

"Oh, thank you, sir! Papa, I've just thought of two things I want to talk to you about."

"Very well; let me hear them."

"The first is about my being so naughty at Viamede," she went on, hanging her head, and blushing deeply; "in such a passion at Signor Foresti, and so obstinate and disobedient to grandpa Dinsmore."

"I was very sorry to hear of it all," he said gravely: "but what about it?"

"Don't you have to punish me for it?" she asked, half under her breath.

"No: the punishment I gave you the other night settled all accounts up to that date."

She breathed more freely.

"Papa, would you have made me go back to that horrid man after he struck me?"

"It is not worth while to consider that question at this late day. Now, what else?" he asked.

"Papa, I spoiled one of those valuable books of engravings belonging to grandpa Dinsmore; no, I didn't exactly spoil it myself, but I took it out on the veranda without leave, and carelessly left it where Rosie's dog could get at it; and he scratched and gnawed and tore it, till it is almost ruined."

"I shall replace it at once," he said. "I am sorry you were so careless, and particularly that you took the book out there without permission; but that was not half so bad as flying into a passion, even if you hurt nothing or no one but yourself."

"But I did get into a passion, papa, at the dog and at Rosie," she acknowledged, in a frightened tone, and blushing more deeply than before.

"I am deeply grieved to hear it," he said.

"And won't you have to punish me for that, and for getting the book spoiled?"

"No: didn't I tell you just now that all accounts were settled up to the other night?"

"Papa, you're very, very kind," she said, putting her arm round his neck, and laying her head on his shoulder.

"I am very glad, that, with all her faults, my dear little daughter is so truthful and so open with me," he said, smoothing her hair.

"Papa, I'm ever so sorry you'll have to pay so much money to replace that book," she said. "But—you often give me some pocket-money, and—won't you please keep all you would give me till it counts up enough to pay for the book?"

"It is a right feeling, a feeling that pleases me, which prompts you to make that request," he said in a kind tone, and pressing his lips to her cheek; "and probably another time I may let you pay for such a piece of carelessness, but you need not in this instance. I feel rich enough to spare the money quite easily for that and an increase in my children's weekly allowance. What is yours now?"

"Fifty cents, papa."

"Where is your purse?"

She took it from her pocket, and put it into his hand.

"Only five cents in it," he remarked, with a smile, when he had examined.

Then, taking a handful of loose change from his pocket, he counted out four bright quarters and ten dimes, and poured them into her purse.

"O papa! so much!" she cried delightedly, "I feel ever so rich!"

He laughed at that. "Now," he said, "you shall have a dollar every week, unless I should have to withdraw it on account of some sort of bad behavior on your part. Max is to have the same; Gracie half a dollar till she is a little older: and you are all to keep an account of your spendings."

He took from another pocket, three little blank-books.

"One of these is for you: the others are for your brother and sister," he said. "See, there is a blank space for every day in the week; and, Whenever you lay out any money, you must write down in the proper place what it was that you bought, and how much it cost."

"And show it to you, papa?"

"Once in a while: probably, whenever I hand you your allowance, I shall look over your account for the week that is just past, and tell you what I think of the way you have laid out your money, in order to help you to learn to spend it judiciously."



CHAPTER XVIII.

"Fortune is merry, And in this mood will give us any thing."

There was a sound of small, hurrying feet in the hall without, a tap at the door; and Max's voice asked, "May we come in?"

"Yes," said his father; and instantly the door was thrown wide. Evelyn came in with a quiet, lady-like step, and Max and Grace more boisterously.

The captain rose, shook hands with Eva, set her a chair, and sat down again, drawing Gracie to his arms, while Max stood at his side.

"Oh! what are those for?" he asked, catching sight of the blank-books.

"This is for you, this for Grace," the captain answered, bestowing them as he spoke, then went on to repeat substantially what he had just been saying to Lulu, and to replenish their purses as he had hers.

They were both delighted, both grateful.

Evelyn looked on, well pleased. "Now your allowance is just the same as mine, and I am so glad," she said to Lulu. "I have never kept an account; but I think it must be a good plan, and I mean to after this."

"There is another thing, children," said the captain: "any money that we have, is only lent to us by our heavenly Father; and it is our duty to set aside a certain portion for giving to his cause."

"How much, papa?" asked Max.

"People have different ideas about that," was the reply. "In Old-Testament times, the rule was one-tenth of all; and I think most people should not give less now: many are able to give a great deal more. I hope each of you will be glad to give as much as that."

He opened Lulu's Bible, lying on the table, and read aloud, "'He who soweth sparingly, shall reap also sparingly; and he who soweth bountifully, shall reap also bountifully. Every man according as he purposeth in his heart, so let him give; not grudgingly, or of necessity; for God loveth a cheerful giver.'"

"I'll give a tenth of all," said Lulu. "I mean to buy a little purse on purpose to keep my tenth in, and I'll put two of these dimes in it. That will be the tenth of the two dollars you've given me, won't it, papa?"

"Yes," he said.

"And I'll do the same," said Max.

"I too," added Gracie.

"It is just what my papa taught me to do," remarked Evelyn modestly.

"Would you children all like to take a drive with me this afternoon?" asked the captain.

There was a simultaneous and joyful assent from his own three: then Evelyn said, "Thank you, sir. I should like it extremely, if I can get permission. Aunt Elsie expects me home to dinner; but I will go now to the telephone, and ask if I may stay and accept your invitation."

"And while you are doing that, I will go to my wife, and try to persuade her to join our party," the captain said, leaving the room.

Evelyn had no difficulty in gaining permission to stay at Ion for the rest of the day, or go anywhere Capt. Raymond might propose to take her; and he found but little difficulty in persuading Violet to accompany him in a drive that would take her from her baby for an hour or two, the little one being so much better that she did not fear to leave it in charge of her mother and the nurse, thinking it might die before her return.

"The carriage will be at the door in ten or fifteen minutes after we leave the dinner-table," the captain told them all; and each one promised to be ready to start at once.

The children all came down the stairs and out upon the veranda together, and only a little in advance of the captain and Violet.

There was a simultaneous exclamation of surprise as they saw, not the Ion family carriage, but a new and very handsome one, with a pair of fine match-horses, which none of them had ever seen before, drawn up at the foot of the veranda-steps, while, a few feet beyond, a servant held the bridle of a beautiful, spirited pony, whose long mane, gracefully arched neck, and glossy coat, struck them all with admiration.

The carriage-horses were no less handsome or spirited: they were tossing their manes, and pawing the ground, with impatience to be off.

Violet turned a bright, inquiring look upon her husband, while all three of his children were asking in eager, excited tones, "Papa, papa, whose carriage and horses are these?"

"Ours," he said, handing Violet to a seat in the vehicle; then, as he helped Evelyn in, "Max, my son, if you will ride that pony, there will be more room here for the rest of us."

"O papa! may I?" cried the boy in tones of delight. "Did you hire it for me?"

"No: I only bought it for you. Mount, and let me see how well you can manage him—how well you have improved your opportunities for learning to ride."

Max needed no second invitation, but had vaulted into the saddle before his father was done speaking.

"Now put him through his paces," was the next order.

Max wheeled about, dashed down the avenue at a rapid gallop, turned, and came back at an easy canter; his father and sisters, Violet also, watching him in proud delight, he was so handsome, and sat his pony so well.

"Ah! that will do," his father said when the lad was within easy hearing-distance: "these fellows," glancing at the horses attached to the carriage, "are getting too restless to stand any longer; so you may finish your exhibition at another time. I have seen enough to feel that you are quite equal to the management of your pony."

"O papa! he's just splendid!" Max burst out, bending down to pat and stroke the neck of his steed; "and I can never thank you enough for such a gift."

"Enjoy him, and use him kindly: that is all I ask," the captain said, entering the carriage, where he had already placed his two little girls. "Drive on, Scipio. Max, you may ride along-side."

"I 'spect I know where we're going," remarked Grace gleefully, and with an arch smile up into her father's face, as she noticed the direction they were taking on turning out of the avenue into the high-road.

"Do you?" he said. "Well, wait a little, and you will find out how good a guess you have made."

"To Woodburn, papa?" queried Lulu eagerly.

"Have patience, and you will see presently," he answered with a smile.

"Mamma Vi, do you know?" she asked.

"It is your father's secret," said Violet. "I should not presume to tell you when he declines doing so."

"We shall know in a very few minutes, Lu," said Evelyn: "it is only a short drive to Woodburn."

"I was thinking about that name," said Grace. "Papa, why do they call it Woodburn? There's woods,—do they burn them sometimes? They don't look as if they'd ever been burned."

"I don't think they have," he said, "except such parts of them as dry twigs and fallen branches, that could be picked up from the ground, or now and then a tree that it was thought best to cut down, or that fell of itself. But you know, there is a pretty little brook running across the estate, and in Scotland such a stream is called a burn; so, having a wood and a burn, Woodburn is a very appropriate name."

"Yes, papa, I think it is, and a pretty name too. Thank you for explaining it, and not laughing at my mistake."

"Even papa doesn't know nearly every thing, little daughter," he said, stroking and patting the small hand she had laid on his knee, "so it would be quite out of place for him to laugh at you for asking a sensible question. We should never be ashamed to ask for information that we need. It is much wiser than to remain in ignorance for fear of being laughed at."

"And her father always gives information so kindly and patiently," remarked Violet.

"And I think he knows 'most every thing," said Grace. "Oh, I did guess right! for here we are at Woodburn."

They drove and walked about the grounds, admiring, criticising, planning improvements; then called on Miss Elliott, and, with her readily accorded permission, went over the house.

Violet and the captain selected a suite of rooms for their own occupation, and he decided which the children should use.

A bedroom opening from their own was selected for Grace, the adjoining room beyond for Lulu; and another, into which both these latter opened, they were told should be their own little sitting-room.

Besides these, a tiny apartment in a tower, communicating with Lulu's bedroom, was given to her. The sitting-room opened into the hall also, so that it was not necessary to pass through one bedroom to reach the other.

They were all bright, cheerful rooms, with a pleasant outlook from every window: in the sitting-room there were French windows opening upon a balcony.

The little girls were almost speechless with delight when told by their father that these four apartments were to be appropriated solely to their use.

Lulu caught his hand, and kissed it, tears of mingled joy and penitence springing to her eyes.

He smiled down at her, and laid his other hand tenderly on her head for an instant.

Then turning to Max, "Now, my boy," he said, "we must settle where you are to lodge. Have you any choice?"

"Is it to be more than one room for me, papa?" he asked, with an arch smile. "I believe boys don't usually fare quite so well as girls in such things."

"My boy does," returned his father: "you shall have two or three rooms if you want them, and quite as well furnished as those of your sisters."

"Then, if you please, papa, I'll take those over Lu's, and thank you very much. But as you have already given me several things that my sisters haven't got,—a gun, a watch, and that splendid pony,—I think it would be quite fair that they should have better and prettier furniture in their rooms than I in mine."

"That makes no difference, Max," his father answered with a pleased laugh. "I should hardly want the girls to have guns, but watches and ponies they shall have by the time they are as old as you are now."

At that the two little girls, standing near, exchanged glances of delight. They had been unselfishly glad for Max, and now they rejoiced each for herself and for the other.

Though, in common with all the rest, deeply interested in the new home, Max was not sorry when his father and Violet decided that it was time to return to Ion; for he was eager to show his pony to grandma Elsie, Zoe, and Rosie, who had not yet seen it.

"Papa, do you require me to keep along-side of the carriage?" he asked, as he remounted.

"No: if you wish, you may act as our avant-courier," was the smiling reply. "I quite understand that you are in haste to display your new treasure."

"Yes, sir: that was why I asked. Thank you, sir;" and away the lad flew, urging his pony to a rapid gallop.

He reached Ion some minutes in advance of the carriage, found nearly all of the family who had remained at home on the veranda, and greatly enjoyed their exclamations of surprise and admiration at sight of his steed.

As he drew rein at the foot of the steps, and lifted his hat to the ladies, Zoe and Rosie came hurriedly forward to get a nearer view. The first exclaimed,—

"What a beautiful pony! Where did he come from, Max?"

Rosie asking, "Whose is he?"

"Mine; a present from papa," replied Max, sitting proudly erect, and patting the pony's neck; "but I don't know where he came from, aunt Zoe. You'll have to ask papa if you want to know."

"You're in luck, Maxie," she said lightly.

"Yes, indeed. I was born in luck when I was born my father's son."

"Of course you were," she returned, laughing. "Where are the others? Oh, here they come!" as she caught sight of the captain's new carriage just turning in at the avenue-gates.

Those who were in it were a gay and happy party, who, all the way as they came, had been discussing plans for making the new home more convenient, comfortable, and beautiful, and for the life they were to live in it.

Woodburn was the principal theme of conversation in the evening also, the entire family being gathered together in the parlor, and no visitors present.

"Tell us about your nursery, Vi," said her mother: "where is it to be?"

"Next to our sleeping-room, mamma, on the other side from Gracie's: you may be sure we want our little ones near us."

"But is it a pleasant room?"

"None brighter or cheerier in the house, mamma; it is of good size too; and we mean to have it furnished with every comfort, and in a way to make it as attractive as possible."

"Pleasantly suggestive pictures among other things?"

"Yes, mamma. I know, from my own happy experience, that they have a great deal to do with educating a child."

"In both morals and art?" said the captain, looking smilingly at her. "I should think so, judging from what my wife is; and surely, it is reasonable to expect a child to be, to some extent, a reflection of its surroundings; refined or vulgar, according to the style of faces—living or pictured—it is constantly gazing upon, etc. But, however that may be, we will try to keep upon the safe side, furnishing only what must have a good influence, so far as it has any at all."

Lulu was there, sitting as close to her father as she could well get. She had a feeling that it was the only safe place for her.

"Shall I have some pictures on my walls, papa?" she asked in a low aside.

"Yes: we will go some day soon to the city, and choose some fine engravings for your rooms, Max's and Gracie's; furniture, too, carpets, curtains, and new paper for the walls."

"Oh, but that will be delightful!" she exclaimed. "Papa, you are just too good and kind for any thing."

Max, who was near at hand, had overheard. "That's so!" he said. "I suppose you mean that I am to go too, papa?"

"Yes; Gracie also. My dear," to Violet, "when will it suit you to accompany us?—to-morrow?"

"To-morrow is Saturday," she said reflectively. "Suppose we say Monday? I hope baby will be so much better by that time, that I shall feel easy in leaving her for a long day's shopping."

"Very well," he said: "we will go Monday morning if nothing happens to prevent."

"Lulu looks as if she did not know how to wait so long," Violet said, smiling kindly on the little girl. "Can't you take her and Max and Gracie to-morrow, and again on Monday? Surely, they can select some things for their own rooms, with you to help them."

"No. I want your taste as well as my own and theirs, and Lulu must learn to wait: it is a lesson she needs," he added, looking down at her with grave kindliness, and pressing affectionately the hand she had slipped into his.

She flushed, and cast down her eyes.

"Yes, papa," she murmured, "I will try to be good and patient. I'm sure I ought to be when you are so very good to me."

"Now, captain, if my taste and judgment were considered equal to Vi's, and Lulu might be spared that lesson," remarked Zoe laughingly, "I'd offer to go in her place,—Vi's, I mean. I think it would be great fun to help choose pictures, carpets, and furniture."

"Thank you, Zoe; that is a kind offer," said Violet: "and if mamma thinks it an enjoyable errand, and will consent to supplement your taste and judgment with hers, they will be a good deal more than equal to mine," she concluded, with a smiling glance at her mother.

"I am quite of Zoe's opinion as to the pleasantness of the object of the expedition, Vi," Elsie said, "and quite at the service of the captain and yourself, to go, or to take your place in watching over baby while you go; and I think you will find it necessary to spend more than one or two days in the work of selecting what you will want for the furnishing of your home."

"I dare say you are right about that, mother," said the captain; "and as it seems to be the desire of all parties that the work should be begun to-morrow, I think I will take the children and as many of you ladies as may like to accompany us."

"Papa, mayn't we drive to the city in the new carriage?" pleaded Lulu. "I'd like it ever so much better than going in the cars; and then we can drive from one store to another, without having to take the street-cars or a hack."

"It shall be as the ladies who decide to go with us may wish," he said.

"I think Lulu's plan a very good one," said grandma Elsie, kindly desirous to see the child gratified.

"And I would greatly prefer it, if I should be one of the party," added Zoe.

"As I trust you will," returned the captain gallantly. "Gracie, daughter, it is time little ones like you were in their nests. Bid good-night, and go."

The child obeyed instantly and cheerfully.

"And I must go back to my baby," Violet remarked, as she rose and left the room along with the little girl.

"You may go to your room, Lulu," the captain said, in a quiet aside; "but you need not say good-night to me now: I shall step in to look at you before I go to mine."

"Yes, papa," she returned, with a glad look, and followed Grace's example.

"Max, what do you say to a promenade on the veranda with your father?" Capt. Raymond asked, with a smiling glance at his son.

Max jumped up with alacrity. "That I'd like nothing better, sir," he said; and they went out together.

"You are pleased with your pony, Max?" the captain said inquiringly, striking a match and lighting a cigar as he spoke.

"Yes, indeed, papa!" was the enthusiastic reply. "I feel very rich owning him."

"And mean to be a kind master to him, I trust?"

"Yes, sir; oh, yes, indeed! I don't intend ever to speak a cross word to him, much less give him a blow."

"He has always been used to kind treatment, I was told, and has nothing vicious in his disposition," the captain continued, puffing at his cigar, and pacing the veranda with measured tread, Max keeping close at his side: "so I think he will always give you satisfaction, if you are gentle and kind, never ill-treating him in any way."

"I mean to make quite a pet of him, sir," Max said.

Then, with an arch look up into his father's face,—a full moon making it light enough for each to see the other's countenance quite distinctly,—"Papa, you are very generous to me, but you never offer me a cigar."

The captain stopped short in his walk, and faced his son with some sternness of look and tone. "Max, you haven't learned to smoke? tell me: have you ever smoked a cigar? or tobacco in any shape?"

"Yes, sir; but"—

"Don't do it again: I utterly and positively forbid it."

"Yes, sir: I'll obey; and, in fact, I have no desire to smoke again: it was just one cigar I tried; and it made me so deathly sick, that I've never wanted another. I wouldn't have done it, papa, if you had ever forbidden me; but—but you had never said any thing to me on the subject, and I'd seen"—Max hesitated, and left his sentence unfinished.

"You had seen your father smoke, and naturally thought you might follow his example?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, my son, I can hardly blame you for that; but there are some things a man may do with impunity, that a boy may not. Tobacco is said to be far more injurious to one who has not attained his growth, than to an adult. But it is not seldom injurious to the latter also: some seem to use it with no bad effect, but it has wrought horrible suffering for many. I am sorry I ever formed the habit, and I would save you from the same regret, or something worse: indeed, so anxious am I to do so, that I would much rather hand you a thousand dollars than a cigar, if I thought you would smoke it."

"Papa, I promise you I will never try the thing again; never touch tobacco in any shape," Max said earnestly.

"Thank you, my son; and I will give up the habit for your sake," returned his father, grasping the lad's hand with one of his, and, with the other, flinging his cigar far down the avenue.

"Oh, no, papa! don't do it for my sake," said Max. "Cousin Arthur told me that when a man had smoked for years, it cost him a good deal of suffering to give it up; and I couldn't bear to see you suffer so. I'll refrain all the same, without your stopping."

"I don't doubt that you would, my dear boy; and I fully appreciate the affection for me that prompts you to talk in that way," the captain said: "but I have set a bad example quite long enough, not to my own son alone, but to other people's; and whatever I may have to endure in breaking off from the bad habit, will be no more than I deserve for contracting it. I should be very sorry, Max, to have you feel that you have a coward for a father,—a man who would shrink from the course he felt to be right, rather than endure pain, mental or physical."

"A coward! O papa! I could never think that of you!" cried the boy, flushing hotly; "and if ever any fellow should dare to hint such a thing in my hearing, I'd knock him down as quick as a flash."

The corners of the captain's lips twitched; but his tones were grave enough as he said, "I don't want you to do any fighting on my account, Max; and if anybody slanders me, I shall try to live it down.

"There is another thing I want to talk to you about," he went on presently, "and that is the danger of tampering with intoxicating drinks. The only safe plan is to let them entirely alone. I am thankful to be able to say that I have not set you a bad example in that direction. My good mother taught me to 'touch not, taste not, handle not;' and I have never taken so much as a glass of wine; though there have been times, my boy, when it required some moral courage to stand out against the persuasions, and especially the ridicule, of my companions."

Max's eyes sparkled. "I know it must, papa," he said; "and when I am tried in the same way, I'll remember my father's example, and try to act as bravely as he did."



CHAPTER XIX.

"Train up a child in the way he should go."—PROV. xxii. 6.

"Papa, I want to ask you for something," was Lulu's eager salutation, as, in accordance with his promise, he stepped into her room, on the way to his own, to bid her good-night.

"Well, daughter," he said, sitting down, and drawing her into his arms, "there is scarcely any thing that gives me more pleasure than gratifying any reasonable request from you. What is it you want?"

"Leave to invite Evelyn to go with us to-morrow, if you don't think it will make too many, papa."

"I suppose it would add greatly to your enjoyment to have her with you," he said reflectively. "Yes, you may ask her; or I will do so, early in the morning, through the telephone, if the weather is such that we can go."

"Thank you, you dear papa." she said, giving him a hug and kiss. "I ought to be a very good girl, for you are always so kind to me."

She was up betimes the next morning, eagerly scanning the sky, which, to her great delight, gave every indication of fair weather for the day.

She hastened to array herself in suitable attire for her trip to the city,—having consulted grandma Elsie on the subject the night before,—and had just finished when she heard her father's step in the hall.

She ran to open the door.

"Good-morning, little daughter," he said with a smile, and stooping to give her a caress. "I have just been to the telephone. Evelyn will go with us, and I trust you will both enjoy your day."

"Oh, I know I shall!" she cried: "it will be just delightful! Are we all to go in the carriage, papa?"

"All but Max: he prefers to ride his pony."

"I should think he would. I'm so glad you gave it to him, papa!" There was not a trace of envy or jealousy in her look or tone.

"Wouldn't you like to have one?" he asked.

"Oh, yes, indeed, papa! but," hanging her head, and blushing deeply, "I don't deserve it."

"I intend to give you one as soon as you have learned to have patience under provocation, so that I shall be able to trust you to treat him kindly," he said. "How soon do you think that will be?"

"I don't know, papa. It will be a good while before I can feel at all sure of myself," she answered humbly.

"I hope it will," he said; then, as she looked up in surprise, "The apostle says, 'When I am weak, then am I strong.' When we feel our own weakness, and look to God for help, then we are strong with a strength far greater than our own; but when we grow self-confident, and trust in our own strength, we are very apt to find it but weakness.

"And now I must caution you to be on your guard to-day against any exhibition of self-will and ill temper, if your wishes are overruled by those older and wiser than yourself."

"Why, papa, am I not to be allowed to choose the things for my own rooms?" she asked, in a tone of deep disappointment.

"I intend that your taste shall be consulted, my child," he said; "but I cannot promise that you shall have, in every case, exactly what you most prefer. You might select carpets, curtains, and upholstery of material and colors that would wear poorly, or fade very soon. Therefore we must take grandma Elsie into our counsels, and get her help in deciding what to take; for I am sure you would like neither to have your rooms disfigured with faded, worn-out furnishings, or to put your father to the expense of refurnishing for you very soon."

"Oh, no, papa! No, indeed," she said.

"Besides," he went on, "don't you wish to consult my taste too? Would you not have your rooms pleasing to my eyes when I pay a visit to them, as I shall every day?"

"Oh, yes, papa! Yes, indeed! I think I shall care more for that than to have them look pretty to myself," she answered, with a look of eager delight, the cloud having entirely cleared from her brow.

"Then, I think we are not likely to have any trouble," he said, smoothing her hair caressingly, and smiling approvingly upon her.

"Now we will go down to breakfast, and we are to set out very soon after the meal is over." He rose, and took her hand in his, to lead her down to the breakfast-room.

"Papa," she said, looking up at him with eyes shining with filial love, "how kind you were to reason with me in that nice way, instead of saying sternly, as you might have done, 'Now, Lulu, if you are naughty about the choice of things for furnishing your rooms, you sha'n't have any thing pretty for them, and when we get home I'll punish you severely!'"

"Certainly, I might have done that, and probably with the effect of securing your good behavior," he said; "but I think neither of us would have felt quite so happy as we do now."

"I am sure I should not," she said, lifting his hand to her lips.

That little talk had a most happy effect upon Lulu, so that throughout the entire day she showed herself as docile and amiable as any one could have desired.

Her father, on his part, was extremely indulgent toward all three of his children, in every case in which he felt that it was right and wise to be so, sparing no reasonable expense to gratify their tastes and wishes. But in several matters they yielded readily to his or grandma Elsie's better judgment; indeed, always, when asked to do so, seeming, too, well satisfied with the final decision.

They returned home, a very happy set of children, except, in Lulu's case, when memory recalled the passionate outburst of the early part of the week with its dire consequences: that remembrance would be a sore spot in her heart, and a bitter humiliation, for many a day, probably for the rest of her life.

Rosie was on the veranda awaiting their arrival.

"Well, have you had a good time, and bought great quantities of pretty things?" she asked, addressing the company in general.

It was Zoe who answered first.

"Yes: if these young Raymonds are not satisfied with the furnishing of their apartments, I, for one, shall deem them the most unreasonable and ungrateful of human kind."

"She won't have a chance to, though," said Max; "for we're delighted with every thing papa has got us. Aren't we, Lu and Gracie?"

"Yes, indeed!" they both replied. "Oh, we have ever so many beautiful things! Papa and grandma Elsie helped us to choose them; so, of course, they are all just right," added Lulu, looking gratefully from one to the other.

"She takes no account of my very valuable assistance," laughed Zoe.

"Never mind: you are sure to be appreciated in one quarter," said Edward, coming up at that moment, catching her round the waist, and bestowing a hearty kiss upon each cheek. "I have been lost without my wife all day."

"How good of you!" she returned merrily. "I doubt if it isn't a very good plan to run away occasionally, that I may be the more highly appreciated on my return."

"Would you advise me to do likewise, and for the same reason, lady mine?" he asked, drawing her caressingly aside from the little group now busily occupied in telling and hearing about the day's purchases.

"No, sir," she said, tossing back her curls, and looking up into his face with a bewitchingly saucy smile: "you'd better not attempt it, lest there should be mutiny in the camp. When you go, I go too."

"Turn about, fair play," he said, knitting his brows. "I claim the privilege of being quite as independent as you are—when you can't plead delegated authority from the doctor;" and, drawing her hand within his arm, he led her away to their private apartments.

Violet, hurrying down to welcome her husband home, passed them on the stairway.

"You two happy children!" she said, glancing smilingly back at them.

"Children!" echoed Edward. "Mrs. Raymond, how can you be so disrespectful to your elder brother?—your senior by some two years."

"Ah! but your united ages are much less than Levis's and mine; and husband and wife make but one, don't they?" she returned gayly, as she tripped away.

Baby was almost herself again, and the young mother's heart was full of gladness.

She joined the group on the veranda, her husband receiving her with a glad smile and tender caress, and standing by his side, her hand on his shoulder, his arm half supporting her slight, girlish form, listened with lively interest to the story his children were telling so eagerly, of papa's kindness and generosity to them, and the many lovely things bought to make beautiful and attractive the rooms in the new home that were to be especially theirs.

He let them talk without restraint for some moments, then said pleasantly, "Now, my dears, it is time for you to go and make yourselves neat for the tea-table. Any thing more you think of that would be likely to interest Rosie and Walter, you can tell them afterwards."

The order was obeyed promptly and cheerfully, even by Lulu.

When the excitement of telling about their purchases, and all the day's experiences, was over, the children found themselves very weary,—the two little girls at least: Max wouldn't acknowledge that he was at all fatigued, but was quite willing to comply with his father's suggestion that it would be wise for him, as well as for his sisters, to go early to bed.

While Lulu was making ready for hers, her thoughts turned upon the morrow, bringing with them a new source of disquiet.

"Papa," she said pleadingly, when he came in to bid her good-night, "mayn't I stay at home to-morrow?"

"Stay at home from church? Not unless you are sick, or the weather quite too bad for you to go out. Why should you wish it?"

"Because—because—I—I'm afraid people have heard about—about how bad I was the other day; and—so I—I can't bear to go where I'll—be seen by strangers. No, I mean by folks out of the house that know who I am, and what happened the other day."

"My child, I am sorry for you," he said, taking her on his knee; "but it is a part of the punishment you have brought upon yourself, and will have to bear."

"But let me stay at home to-morrow, won't you?"

"No: it is a duty to go to church, as well as a privilege to be allowed to do so.

"'Not forsaking the assembling of ourselves together, as the manner of some is,' the Bible says; so I cannot allow you to absent yourself from the services of the sanctuary when you are able to attend.

"As I have told you before, I must obey the directions I find in God's Word, and, as far as lies in my power, see that my children obey them too."

"I'd rather take a whipping than go to-morrow," she muttered, half under her breath.

"I hope you are not going to be so naughty that you will have to do both," he said very gravely. "You have been a very good girl to-day, and I want you to end it as such."

"I mean to, papa; I'd be ashamed to be naughty after all you have done for me, and given me to-day: and I mean to be pleasant about going to church to-morrow; though it'll be ever so hard, and I'm sure you wouldn't want to go if you were me."

"If you were I," he corrected. "No: if I were you, I suppose I should feel just as you do; but the question is not what we want to do, but what God bids us do.

"Jesus said, 'If ye love me, keep my commandments.' 'He that hath my commandments, and keepeth them, he it is that loveth me.'

"It is the dearest wish of my heart to see my children his followers, showing their love to him by an earnest endeavor to keep all his commandments."

"Papa, you always want to do right, don't you?" she asked. "I mean, you like it; and so it's never hard for you as it is for me?"

"No, daughter, it is sometimes very far from being easy and pleasant for me to do what I feel to be my duty; for instance, when it is to inflict pain upon you, or another of my dear children, or deny you some indulgence that you crave. I should like to grant your request of to-night, if I could feel that it would be right; but I cannot, and therefore must deny it."

Lulu acquiesced in the decision with a deep sigh, and half hoped that something—a storm, or even a fit of sickness—might come to prevent her from having to go to church.

But Sunday morning was as bright and clear as the one before it, and she in perfect health; so there was no escape from the dreaded ordeal.

She ventured upon no further entreaty, knowing it would be altogether useless, and quite as much from love to her father, and a real desire to please him, as from fear of punishment, behaved herself as well as possible.

But she kept as entirely in the background as she could, not looking at or speaking to any one unless directly addressed.

No one, however, gave her any reason to suppose her agency in the baby's accident was known; and she returned to Ion with a lighter heart than she had carried with her when she went.

She had not seen the baby yet, since its fall, and though longing to do so, having an ardent affection for the winsome little creature, did not dare to ask that she might.

But as she was about to go into her own room, on reaching home, her father said, "Would you like to go with me to the nursery, Lulu, and see your little sister?"

"Oh, so much, papa, if I may!" she cried eagerly. "But," half drawing back, "perhaps she—will be afraid of me."

"I trust not," he said, with emotion. "I hope she does not know that you had any thing to do with her fall. Come and see."

He took her hand, and led her to the nursery. The baby was awake, sitting in its nurse's lap, and looking bright, but so much thinner and paler than before her fall, that tears sprang to Lulu's eyes, and she could scarce refrain from sobbing aloud.

But the little one, catching sight of her, held out its arms, with a joyful cry, "Lu!"

At that, Lulu's tears fell fast.

"May I take her, papa?" she asked sobbingly, and with an entreating look up into his face. "I won't hurt her, I wouldn't for all the world!"

"You may take her," he said, his tones a trifle tremulous: "I am quite sure you would never hurt her intentionally."

Lulu gladly availed herself of the permission, took the baby in her arms, and sat down with it on her lap.

"Lu, Lu!" the little one repeated in her sweet baby voice; and Lulu hugged her close, kissing her again and again, and saying softly, "You dear, sweet darling; sister loves you, indeed, indeed she does!"

The captain looked on, his heart swelling with joy and thankfulness over the evident mutual affection of the two; for there had been a time when he feared Lulu would never love the child of her step-mother as she did Max and Grace.

Violet entered the room at that moment, and the little scene caused her eyes to fill with tears of gladness.

She was ready for the shopping expedition the next day: the children were allowed to go too, and again had a most enjoyable time.

After that they were told lessons must be taken up again: and Lulu passed most of her time in her own room, generally engaged in preparing her tasks for her father to hear in the evening; for he was now so busy with the improvements being carried forward at Woodburn, that very often he could not attend to her recitations till after tea.

She continued to think him the kindest and most interesting teacher she had ever had; while he found, to his surprise, that he had a liking for the occupation, aside from his fatherly interest in his pupil: and Max and Grace, listening to Lulu's report, grew anxious for the time when they could share her privileges.

But their waiting-time would not be very long. As soon as Miss Elliott's stipulated two weeks had expired, she would leave Woodburn, and they would take possession immediately. Their father and his young wife were quite as eager as they to begin the new order of things.



CHAPTER XX.

IN THE NEW HOME.

The moving to Woodburn was not a formidable affair, there being little to carry from Ion besides the personal belongings of parents and children; and, indeed, nearly every thing, even of that kind, had been sent over beforehand.

Miss Elliott went one morning; and the Raymonds drove over scarcely an hour later, to find the greater part of the house in perfect order, a full staff of competent servants, and an excellent dinner in course of preparation.

Max and his sisters had been directed to stay away from the place ever since the day when their rooms were assigned them, and now a glad surprise awaited them.

"Come up-stairs," their father said, when they had made the circuit of the lower rooms. "My dear," to Violet, "will you please come too?"

"With all my heart," she returned gayly, and tripped lightly after him up the broad stairway, the children following.

He led them first to her apartments, and on through them into those of the little girls, greatly enjoying the exclamations of wonder and delight from her and the children.

They had all supposed the work of renovation and improvement was not to be begun till after the departure of Miss Elliott; but they found it not only begun, but finished; the new papers they had chosen were already on the walls, the carpets down, the curtains up, mirrors and pictures hung, and furniture in place.

Max's rooms, visited last, were found to be in like condition,—not at all inferior to those of his sisters in any respect.

Violet was greatly pleased; the children were wild with delight; every thing was so dainty and fresh, there was such an air of elegance and refinement about the appointments of each room, that all were charmed with the effect.

They were hardly yet satisfied with gazing and commenting, when the summons to dinner came.

They trooped down to the dining-room, the captain and Violet leading the way, and seated themselves at the table.

Here, too, all was new and handsome; the napery, china, glass and silver ware, such as would not have suffered by comparison with what they had been accustomed to at Ion and Viamede.

Lulu was beginning to express that opinion, when her father silenced her by a gesture.

All quieted down at once, while he reverently gave thanks for their food, and asked God's blessing upon it.

"May I talk now, papa?" she asked, a moment after he had finished.

"Yes, if you have any thing to say worth our hearing."

"I'm not sure about that," she said; "but I wanted to tell you how beautiful I think the china and glass and silver are."

"Ah!" he said, smiling, "I am glad they meet your approval."

"O papa! such a nice, nice home as you have made for us!" exclaimed Grace in her turn. "Isn't it, Maxie?" turning to her brother.

"Yes, indeed! and we'll have to be nice, nice children to fit the home, won't we, Gracie?"

"Yes, and to fit papa and mamma," she responded, sending a merry glance from one to the other.

Both smiled upon her in return.

"We are going to have a house-warming this evening, Gracie," said her father: "do you know what that is?"

"No, papa; but I think it's very nice and warm now in all the rooms. Don't you?"

"It is quite comfortable, I think; but the house-warming will be an assembling of our relatives and friends to celebrate our coming into it, by having a pleasant, social time with us."

"Oh, that will be nice!" she exclaimed. "How many are coming, papa? I s'pose you've 'vited grandma Elsie and all the rest of the folks from Ion, and all the folks at Fairview?"

"Yes, and from the Oaks, the Pines, the Laurels, Roselands, and Ashlands; and we hope they will all come."

She gave him a wistful look.

"Well," he said with a smile, "what is it?"

"Papa, you know I 'most always have to go to bed at eight o'clock. I'd like ever so much to stay up till nine to-night, if you are willing."

"If you will take a nap after dinner, you may," he replied in an indulgent tone. "Max and Lulu may stay up later than usual if they will do likewise."

They all accepted the condition with thanks, and at the conclusion of the meal retired to their respective rooms to fulfil it.

Violet also, having not yet entirely recovered from the ill effects of anxiety and nursing, consequent upon the baby's injury, retired to her apartments to rest and sleep.

Capt. Raymond went to the library to busy himself with some correspondence first, afterwards with books and papers. He had one of these last in his hand, a pile of them on the table before him, when, from the open doorway into the hall, Lulu's voice asked,—

"Papa, may I come in? are you very busy?"

"Not too busy to be glad of my little girl's company," he said, glancing up from his paper with a pleasant smile. "Come and sit on my knee."

She availed herself of the invitation with joyful haste.

"I thought you were taking a nap," he remarked, as he put his arm round her, and kissed the ruby lips she held up in mute request.

"So I was, papa; but you didn't intend me to sleep all the afternoon, did you?" she asked, with a gleeful laugh, and nestling closer to him.

"No, hardly," he returned, joining in her mirth: "so much sleep in the daytime would be apt to interfere with your night's rest. I want you all to have sufficient sleep in the twenty-four hours to keep you in health of body and mind, but should be very sorry to have you become sluggards,—so fond of your beds as to waste time in drowsing there, that should be spent in the exercise and training of body or mind. What have you been doing besides napping?"

"Enjoying my lovely, lovely rooms, papa, and examining the closets and wardrobe and bureau, to find out just where all my things have been put."

"That was well. Do you know any thing about housework,—sweeping, dusting, and keeping things neat and tidy?"

"Not very much, papa."

"That is to be a part of your education," he said. "I want my daughters to become thorough housekeepers, conversant with all the details of every branch of the business. Gracie is not old enough or strong enough to begin that part of her training yet, but you are; so you must take care of your rooms yourself, except when something more than sweeping, dusting, and bed-making is needed."

"I'd like well enough to do it sometimes, papa," she said, looking a little crestfallen; "but I don't like to be tied down to doing it every day, because some days I shall want to be busy at something else; and besides, it is so much like being a servant."

"My little girl, that isn't a right kind of pride; honest labor is no disgrace; and 'Six days shalt thou labor, and do all thy work,' is as much a command of God as the 'In it (the sabbath) thou shalt not do any work.'"

"Yes, papa: and I don't think I'm lazy; I like to be busy, and sometimes work for hours together at my fret-sawing."

"No, I have never thought you an indolent child," he said, smoothing her hair caressingly; "but I am afraid you are wilful, and inclined to think yourself wiser than your elders, even your father."

"Please, papa, don't think that," she said, blushing, and hanging her head: "I know you are much wiser than I am."

"Is it, then, that you doubt my affection for you?" he asked seriously.

"Why, papa, how could I, when you are so good to me, and often tell me that you love me dearly?"

"What, then, is the trouble? if you believe your father to be both wise and loving, and if you love him, and want to please him, how can you object to his plans and wishes for you?"

"But, papa, who is to teach me how to take care of my rooms? Not mamma Vi, I suppose? I never saw her do any such work; and—would you want me taught by one of the servants?" she queried, blushing vividly.

"No," he said: "I have a better plan than that. I have engaged Christine to be housekeeper here, and she will instruct you in all housewifely arts. She is a lady in education and manners, and you need feel it no degradation to be instructed by her."

"Oh, that will be nice! and I'll try to learn to do the work well, and to like it, too, to please you, my own, dear papa," she said, looking up lovingly into his face, her own growing very bright again.

"That is right, my dear little daughter," he returned, smiling kindly upon her.

"You asked just now," he went on, "if your mamma Vi would teach you these things. When I asked her to become my wife, I promised that she should have no care or responsibility in the matter of training and looking after the welfare of the three children I then had; because her mother objected, that she was too young for such a burden: so now that I can live at home with my children, and have no business that need interfere, I shall do my best to be father and mother both to them."

"How nice, papa!" she exclaimed joyfully. "Oh, I do think we ought to be the happiest children in the world, with such a dear, kind father, and such a lovely home! But"—her face clouded, and she sighed deeply.

"But what, my child?"

"I was thinking of that dreadful temper that is always getting the better of me. But you will help me to conquer it, papa?" she added, half inquiringly, half in assertion.

"I fully intend to do all in my power to that end," he said in a tender tone; "but, my beloved child, the hardest part of the battle must inevitably be your own. You must watch and pray against that, your besetting sin, never allowing yourself to be a moment off your guard."

"I mean to, papa; and you will watch me, and warn me when you see that I am forgetting?"

"I shall be constantly endeavoring to do so," he answered,—"trying to guard and guide all my children, looking carefully after their welfare, physical, mental, moral, and spiritual.

"To that end, I have just been examining some of the reading-matter which has been provided for them in my absence; and, so far as I have made myself acquainted with it, I decidedly approve it, as I expected I should; having all confidence in those who chose it for you,—grandpa Dinsmore and grandma Elsie.

"This little paper, 'The Youth's Companion,' strikes me as very entertaining and instructive, also of excellent moral tone. Do you like it?"

"Oh, yes, indeed, papa! we are all very fond of it, and find a great deal of useful information in it. I wouldn't be without it for a great deal, nor Max wouldn't either; and Gracie likes the part for the little folks ever so much."

"Then, we will continue to take it," he said; "also this magazine, 'St. Nicholas,' if you like it, as I can hardly doubt that you do."

"Indeed we do!" she exclaimed: "we wouldn't any of us like to do without that, either. Oh, I am glad you will let us go on with both that and the paper!

"Papa, where is the schoolroom? You haven't shown us that yet."

"No; and here come Max and Gracie," he said, as the two came hurrying in together. "I will show it to you now."

"What, papa?" asked Max.

"Oh! is there something more to see?" exclaimed Grace, running to her father, and putting her hand in his. "Oh, it's ever so nice to have such a beautiful home, and so many beautiful new things to look at!"

"It is only your schoolroom this time," her father said, closing his fingers lovingly over the little hand, and smiling down into the sweet blue eyes upraised so gratefully to his.

"Oh, yes, I want to see that! I'd 'most forgotten 'bout it," she said, skipping along by his side as he led the way, Max and Lulu following.

The room he had selected for the purpose was in a wing attached to the main building at the end farthest removed from Violet's apartments; for he did not want her to be disturbed by any noise the children might make, or them to feel constrained to keep very quiet when not engaged in study or recitation. There was a simultaneous burst of delight from the three, as he threw open the door, and ushered them in. Every thing had been done to render that as attractive as any other part of the mansion: the windows reached almost from floor to ceiling, some opening on to the veranda, one looking directly out upon lawn and flower-garden, with a glimpse of the wood and the brook beyond; a handsome rug covered the centre of the stained and polished floor. In an open fireplace a bright wood fire was blazing, an easy-chair on each side of it; and a sofa on the farther side of the room seemed to invite to repose: but the handsome writing-table, and three pretty rosewood desks, were suggestive of work to be done ere the occupants of the room might feel entitled to rest. The walls were tinted a delicate gray, an excellent background for the pictures that adorned them here and there: most of these were marine views,—that over the fireplace, a very large and fine one, of a storm at sea.

On the mantel-shelf were heaped sea-mosses, shells, and coral; but the tiles below it represented Scripture scenes. Blinds and curtains shaded the windows; and the broad, low sills were cushioned, making pleasant places to sit in.

"It will be just a pleasure to study in such a place as this," cried Max, rubbing his hands with satisfaction, and smiling all over his face.

"Indeed it will! especially with such a teacher as we are to have," chimed in Lulu.

"Oh, I'm just in ever such a hurry to begin!" said Grace. "Papa, which is my desk?"

"They are exactly alike," he said. "I thought of having yours made a trifle lower than the others, but concluded to give you a foot-rest instead, as you will soon grow tall enough to want it the height it now is. Max and Lulu, shall we give your little sister the first choice, as she is the youngest?"

"Yes, indeed, papa! yes, indeed!" they both answered with hearty good will, Max adding, "And Lu must have the next, if you please, papa."

That matter being speedily settled, the next question was when school was to begin. They were all three asking it.

"You may have your choice—we will put it to vote—whether we will begin to-morrow morning, or not till Monday," replied their father; "to-morrow, you will remember, is Thursday: we will begin school regularly at nine o'clock each morning; and it is to last four hours, not including five or ten minutes at the end of every hour for rest."

"That'll be ever so nice!" was Lulu's comment.

"That's so," said Max. "I see you are not going to be hard on a fellow, papa."

"Wait till you are sure," said his father: "there's to be no idling, no half attention to study, in those hours; you are to give your whole minds to your lessons, and I shall be very strict in exacting perfect recitations."

"Do you mean, sir, that we are to repeat the answers in the book, word for word?"

"No, not at all. I shall very much prefer to have you give the sense in your own words: then I shall know that you understand the meaning of the text, and are not repeating sounds merely like a parrot; that you have not been going over the words without trying to take in the ideas they are meant to express."

"But suppose we can't catch the writer's meaning?"

"If you fail to do so, after giving your best efforts to the task, your teacher will always be ready to explain to the best of his ability," was the smiling rejoinder. "But remember, all of you, that I intend you to use your own brains with as little assistance from other people's as possible. Mind as well as body grows strong by exercise."

"But we haven't decided when we are to begin," said Lulu.

"I vote for to-morrow," said Max: "afternoons will give us time enough to do any thing else we want to."

"Yes: I second the motion," she said.

"And I third it," added Grace. "Now, papa, you are laughing at me, and so is Max. Wasn't that the right way to say it?"

"It was 'most as right as Lu's," said Max.

"And both will do well enough," said their father.

"I was going to ask if I might have Eva here to visit me to-morrow, papa," said Lulu; "but she'll be busy with lessons in the morning too. May I ask her to come in the afternoon?"

"Yes: you can ask her this evening; she will be here with the rest.

"Now I have something else to show you. Come with me."

He took Gracie's hand again, and led them to a small, detached building, only a few yards distant,—a one-story frame, so prettily designed that it was quite an ornament to the grounds.

The children exclaimed in surprise; for, though it had been there on their former visit to Woodburn, it was so greatly changed that they failed to recognize it.

"It wasn't here before, papa, was it?" asked Grace. "I'm sure I didn't see it."

"Yes, it was here," he said, as he ushered them in, "but I have had it altered and fitted up expressly for my children's use: you see, it is a little away from the house, so that the noise of saws and hammers will not be likely to prove an annoyance to your mamma and visitors. See, this is a workroom furnished with fret and scroll saws, and every sort of tool that I know of which would be likely to prove useful to you, Max and Lulu."

"Papa, thank you! how good and kind you are to us!" they both exclaimed, glancing about them, then up into his face, with sparkling eyes.

"You must have spent a great deal of money on us, sir," added Max thoughtfully.

"Yes, indeed," chimed in Lulu with a slight look of uneasiness. "Papa, I do hope you won't have to go without any thing you want, because you've used up so much on these and other things for us."

"No, my dears; and if you are only good and obedient, and make the best use of what I have provided, I shall never regret any thing of what I have done for you.

"See here, Gracie."

He opened an inner door as he spoke, and showed a playroom as completely fitted up for its intended use as the room they were in. It was about the same size as the workroom, the two occupying the whole of the small building.

A pretty carpet covered the floor, a few pictures hung on the delicately tinted walls; there were chairs and a sofa of suitable size for the comfort of the intended occupants, and smaller ones on which Gracie's numerous dolls were seated; a cupboard with glass doors showed sets of toy china dishes, and all the accessories for dinner and tea table; there were also a bureau, wash-stand, and table corresponding in size with the rest of the furniture; and the captain, pulling open the drawers of the first named, showed them well stocked with material of various kinds, suitable for making into new garments for the dolls, and with all the necessary implements,—needles, thread, thimbles, scissors, etc.

The two little girls were almost breathless with astonishment and delight.

"Papa!" cried Gracie, "you haven't left one single thing for Santa Claus to bring us on Christmas!"

"Haven't I?" he returned, laughing, and pinching her round, rosy cheek. "Ah, well wouldn't you as soon have them as presents from your own papa?"

"Oh, yes, papa! I know he's just pretend, and it would be you or some of the folks that love me," she said, laying her cheek against his hand; "but I like to pretend it, 'cause it's such fun."

"There are a good many weeks yet to Christmas-time," remarked Lulu; "and perhaps our Santa Claus folks will think up something else for you, Gracie."

"Perhaps they may," said the captain, "if she is good: good children are not apt to be forgotten or neglected, and I hope mine are all going to be such."

"I'm quite sure we all intend to try hard, papa," Max said, "not hoping to gain more presents by it, but because you've been so good to us already."

"Indeed we do!" added his sisters.



CHAPTER XXI.

"Then all was jollity, Feasting and mirth, light wantonness and laughter."

"It seems nice and warm here," remarked Lulu; "but," glancing about, "I don't see any fire."

Her father pointed to a register. "There is a cellar underneath, and a furnace in it," he said. "I thought that the safest way to heat these rooms for the use of very little people. I do not want to expose you to any danger of setting yourselves on fire."

"It's getting a little dark," remarked Grace.

"Yes," he said. "We will go in now. It is time for you to be dressed for the evening."

"Papa, who is to tell us what to wear,—you, or mamma Vi?" asked Lulu, as they pursued their way back to the house.

"You may wear your cream-colored cashmere with the cherry trimmings; Gracie, hers with the blue," he replied.

"That's just what I wanted you to say, papa! I like those dresses," remarked Lulu with satisfaction.

"That is well: and Gracie, of course, is pleased; for she never objects to any thing papa or mamma wishes her to do," he said, with a loving glance down into the little girl's face.

"'Course not, papa; 'cause I know you and mamma always know best," she said, her blue eyes smiling up into his.

"And I mean to try to be like her in that, papa," Lulu said with unwonted humility.

"I hope so: I have no fault to find with your behavior of late," he returned kindly.

They passed into the house, and in the hall met Christine and Alma.

"Ah! you have come, my good girls?" the captain said to them with a pleased look. "Jane," to the girl who had admitted them, "show them to their rooms."

Christine had come to assume her duties as housekeeper at Woodburn; Alma was to make her home there while still continuing to sew for the families at Ion and Fairview—an arrangement which suited the sisters admirably.

"Thanks, sir: it ees one grand place you haf here," said Christine. "We shall be very pleased to haf so nice a home."

"I hope it will prove a happy one to you both," he returned kindly. Then, as they followed Jane to the rear of the mansion,—

"Now, children," he said, "make haste with your dressing."

"Yes, sir," they replied, hurrying up the broad stairway with willing feet.

At its head they met Agnes, their mamma's maid.

"I'se to help yo' dress, Miss Lu and Miss Gracie," she said. "Miss Wi'let tole me so, and I'se laid out yo' things on yo' beds."

"What things? What dress for me?" asked Lulu sharply.

"De cream-colored cashmere, what Miss Wi'let corrected me to."

Lulu laughed. "Directed, you mean, Agnes. You may tie my sash when I'm ready. I can do all the rest myself," she said, passing on into her bedroom, while Grace skipped gayly into hers.

"Mamma's very good to send you, Agnes," she said; "and you may please dress me as fast as you can, 'cause papa told us to make haste."

Grace was a favorite with Agnes as with all the servants at Ion.

"Ya'as, I'll dress yo' up fine, Miss Gracie, and make yo' look putty as a pink," she said, beginning her task.

"Lots ob folks comin' to-night, honey, and grand doin's gwine on in de kitchen and de dinin'-room. Dere's a long table sot out in de bigges' dinin'-room, and heaps and heaps ob splendiferous china dishes, wid fruits and flowahs painted onto 'em, and silverware bright as de sun, and glass dishes dat sparkle like Miss Elsie's di'mon's; and in de kitchen dey's cookin' turkeys and chickens, and wild game ob warious kinds, and oysters in warious styles; 'sides all de pastry and cakes and fruits and ices, and—oh, I cayn't begin to tell yo' all de good things the captain has perwided! dere wasn't never nuffin' grander at Ion or Wiamede or de Oaks, or any ob de grand places belongin' to our fam'lies."

Grace was a highly interested listener.

"Oh," she said, "I want to see the table when it's all set and the good things on it! I wonder if papa will let me eat any of them."

"Maybe," said Agnes; "but you know, Miss Grace, yo's sickly,—leastways, not bery strong,—and de doctah doan' let you eat rich things."

"No," returned the little girl, sighing slightly, "but I do have a good many nice things; and I'd rather eat plain victuals than be weak and sick. Wouldn't you, Agnes?"

"Yaas, I reckon. Dere, you's done finished, Miss Gracie, and looks sweet as a rosebud."

"So she does," said Lulu, coming hurrying in from her room, arrayed in her pretty cashmere, and with a wide, rich sash-ribbon in her hand. "Now, Agnes, if you will please tie my sash, I'll be 'done finished' too."

"O Lu!" exclaimed Grace in loving admiration, "I'm sure you must look twice as sweet and pretty as I do."

Their father opened the door, and stepped in just in time to hear her words, and, glancing smilingly from one to the other, said, "To papa's eyes, both his dear little girls look sweet and lovable. Agnes, their appearance does you credit. Now, my darlings, we will go down to tea, for there is the bell."

"Have the folks come, papa?" asked Grace, putting her hand into his.

"No, daughter: they will probably not begin to come for an hour or so."

"Then, are we going to have two suppers?"

"Yes, one for ourselves—the children especially—at the usual hour, and a later one for the company. That last will be too late, and too heavy, for your weak digestion."

"But not for Max's and mine, will it, papa?" questioned Lulu.

"Yes, I fear so."

"But we are strong and healthy."

"And I wish to keep you so," he said pleasantly; "but you may rest assured that I shall not deny you any enjoyment I think it safe to grant you. Now sit down and be quiet till the blessing has been asked,"—for they had reached the dining-room, and found Violet and Max there waiting for them.

Lulu had overheard a good deal of the glowing account of the coming feast to which Agnes had treated Grace, and, when at liberty to speak again, asked, in a rather discontented tone, if she and Max were not to have any share in the good supper being prepared for the expected guests.

Instead of answering directly, the captain turned to his son, and asked, "Max, what do you think of this supper?"

"It's good enough for a king, sir," returned the lad heartily, glancing over the table as he spoke,—"the nicest of bread and butter, plenty of rich milk and cream, canned peaches and plums, and splendid gingerbread. Why, Lu, what more could you ask?"

Lulu only blushed and hung her head in reply.

"I think it is a meal to be thankful for," remarked Violet cheerily; "but, my dear, you will let them share in some of the lighter refreshments provided for the guests, won't you?"

"Yes, I intend they shall," replied her husband. "Even Gracie can, I think, eat some ice-cream with safety."

"Thank you, papa: I'll be satisfied with that, if you don't think it is best for me to have any thing else," Lulu said, recovering her spirits.

They had scarcely left the table when the guests began to arrive, those from Ion and Fairview coming first.

"Mamma, dearest mamma! welcome, a thousand times welcome, to our home!" exclaimed Violet, embracing her mother with ardent affection.

"I wish it were yours also, mother," the captain said: "there could be no more welcome inmate."

There were cordial, affectionate greetings for each of the others also: then, when outdoor garments had been laid aside, all were conducted over the house, to be shown the improvements already made, and told of those still in contemplation.

It was a great delight to Lulu and Grace to exhibit their pretty rooms to Evelyn and Rosie, and hear their expressions of surprise and admiration; and the pleasure was repeated several times, as the little folks from the Laurels, the Oaks, and the Pines arrived, and in succession went the same round.

"I am pleased with all I have seen, Vi; but this room is especially charming to me," grandma Elsie said, when Violet led her a second time into the nursery, the rest of the Ion party having passed on down to the parlors. "Baby should be a merry, happy child, if pleasant, cheerful surroundings can make her so."

"I trust she will, mamma," returned the young mother, leading the way to the dainty crib where the little one lay sweetly sleeping.

Elsie bent over the little form, gazing at the sweet baby face with eyes brimful of motherly love and tenderness.

"The lovely, precious darling!" she murmured softly. "I am so rejoiced, so thankful, to see her looking almost herself again!"

"As we are," said Violet, in low, tremulous tones. "Her father is extremely fond of her, mamma, as he is of all his children. I think he has no favorite among them, but loves each one devotedly."

"As I do mine," Elsie responded, a bright, sweet smile lighting up her face. "I love you, my Vi, and all your brothers and sisters, very dearly,—each with a love differing somewhat in kind from that given to the others, but not at all in intensity."

They lingered a moment longer, watching the young sleeper: then with a parting injunction to the nurse to be very careful of her, not leaving her alone for an instant, they went down-stairs again, and rejoined the rest of the company.

Everybody had come, the last party of children just descended from the inspection of the rooms of Max and his sisters.

"Now, have we seen positively every thing?" asked Rosie Travilla.

"Why, no!" cried Max, as with sudden recollection. Then hurrying to his father, who was talking on the other side of the room to Dr. Conly, and Mr. Horace Dinsmore of the Oaks, he stood waiting respectfully for an opportunity to speak.

The gentlemen paused in their conversations and the captain asked, "What is it, my son?"

"We haven't shown the workroom or the playroom, papa."

"Ah, sure enough! We must have them lighted first. Send Scipio out to put a lamp in each. Then the ladies' wraps will have to be brought down, for they would be in danger of taking cold going even that short distance without."

"I'll attend to it all, sir," Max rejoined with cheerful alacrity, and hastened away to do so.

In a few minutes all was in readiness.

Max, announcing the fact to his father, and the company in general, said dubiously, "I'm afraid we can't go all at once: the rooms aren't big enough to take in so many."

"So we will go in divisions," said Mr. Dinsmore. "There are thirty of us—not counting the Woodburn family proper: we will make five divisions, six in each, in addition to the guide and exhibiter. Does everybody consent?"

"Yes, yes," was heard on every side.

Then ensued a merry time forming the divisions, and deciding the order of precedence; for every one was in mirthful mood.

It was all settled at last. The visits of inspection were made: everybody agreed in praising all they saw, and congratulating Max and his sisters on the good fortune that had befallen them.

The rest of the evening passed off very pleasantly. The feast was enjoyed, every dish being pronounced a success: the Woodburn children were satisfied with the share of it allowed them,—all the more, perhaps, that a like care was exercised by the parents and guardians of the other young folks in respect to their indulgence of appetite.

Grace bade good-night, and went to her nest at nine o'clock, a cheerful, happy child; but, as the party broke up at ten, Max and Lulu were allowed to remain up to see them off.

Lulu had taken an early opportunity to give the invitation for the next day to Evelyn, and it was joyfully accepted, "uncle Lester" giving ready permission.

"You'll come as soon as lessons are over at Ion, won't you?" asked Lulu in parting.

"Yes, you may be sure I'll come the first minute I can," Eva answered gayly. "I expect to have a lovely time with you in those beautiful rooms, and I've had a lovely time to-night. Good-by," giving her friend a hearty embrace.

"Well, children," the captain said at breakfast the next morning, "remember, I expect every one of you to be in the schoolroom at five minutes before nine, and to begin studying exactly at the hour."

"Every thing to be done with naval precision, I suppose," remarked Violet, giving him a bright half-saucy smile; "that being, I understand, about on a par with military."

"Yes," he said, smiling in return, "that is to be the rule in this house for every one but my wife: she is to follow her own sweet will in all things."

"Ah!" she responded gayly, "I fear you do not realize what a rash promise you are making; or, rather, how rash you are in according such a privilege."

"It is hardly that," he answered: "acknowledging a right, would be my way of expressing it."

They had left the table and the breakfast-room, and were alone at the moment, the children having scattered to their work or play.

"How good you are to me, my dear husband!" she said, looking up fondly into his face as they stood together before the parlor fire.

"Not a whit better than I ought to be, my darling," he responded, bending to kiss the sweet, upturned face. "I have taken you from a tender mother and a most luxurious home, and it must be my care to see that you lose nothing by the transplantation—sweet and delicate flower that you are!"

"In my place, Zoe would call you an old flatterer," she returned with a light laugh, but a tell-tale moisture gathering in her eyes.

"And what do you call me, my Violet?" he asked, putting his arm about her, and drawing her close to his side.

"The kindest, best, dearest of husbands, the noblest of men!"

"Ah, my dear! who is the flatterer now?" he laughed. "I'm afraid you and I might be accused of forming a mutual admiration society."

"Well, what if we do? isn't it the very best sort of a society for husband and wife to form? Levis, am I to have no duties in this house? none of the cares and labors that the mistress of an establishment is usually expected to assume?"

"You shall have no care of housekeeping that I can save you from," he said. "I undertake that, with Christine as my head assistant; though you, of course, are mistress, with the right to give orders and directions whenever you will—to housekeeper, servants, children, even to your husband if you see fit," he concluded with a humorous look and smile.

"The idea of my ordering you whom I have promised to obey," she returned merrily. "But I'm afraid you are going to spoil me. Am I to have nothing to do?"

"You are to do exactly what you please," he said: "the care and training of our little one, aside from all the assistance to be had from servants, will furnish you with no small amount of employment."

"But you will help me with that?"

"Certainly, love; I intend to be as good and faithful a father to her as I know how to be: but you are her mother, and will do a mother's part by her, I know. Then, there are wifely duties which you would not wish to delegate to any one else."

"No, never!" she cried. "O my dear husband! it is the greatest pleasure in life to do any thing I can to add to your comfort and happiness."

"I know it, sweet wife. Ah!" glancing at his watch, "I must tear myself away now from your dear society, and attend to the duties of employer and teacher. I have some directions to give both employees and children."

Grace ran and opened the schoolroom door at the sound of her father's approaching footsteps.

"See, papa," she said, "we are all here, waiting for you to come, and tell us what lessons to learn."

"Yes, you are good, punctual children," he replied, glancing at the pretty little clock on the mantel; "for it still wants five minutes to nine."

"Papa, I know what lessons to learn, of course," remarked Lulu; "but the others are waiting for you to tell them."

"Yes. I shall examine Max first," the captain said, seating himself at his writing-table. "Bring your books here, my son."

"Are you dreadfully frightened, Maxie? very afraid of your new teacher?" Lulu asked laughingly as her brother obeyed the order.

"I don't expect to faint with fright," he returned; "for I've a notion he's pretty fond of me."

"Of you and of all his pupils," the captain said. "Lulu, you may take out your books, and begin to study."

When the tasks had been assigned to each, "Now children," he said, "I am going to leave you for a while. I can do so without fear that you will take advantage of my absence to idle away your time; for I know that you are honorable and trustworthy, also obedient. I have seldom known any one of you to disobey an order from me."

"Thank you, papa," Max said, answering for both himself and sisters, and coloring with pleasure as he spoke. "We'll try to deserve your praise and your confidence. But are we to consider ourselves forbidden to speak at all to each other while you are gone?"

"No, not entirely; but do not engage in unnecessary talk, to the neglect of your studies."

So saying, he went out and left them.

Returning exactly at the expiration of the first hour for study, he found them all busily at work.

He commended their industry, and gave permission for five minutes' rest.

They were prompt to avail themselves of it, and gathered about him full of gleeful chat, the girls seating themselves one on each knee, Max standing close at his side.

School was a decided success that day, and neither teacher nor pupils saw any reason to regret the establishment of the new order of things.

Evelyn came soon after they were dismissed, spent the afternoon and evening, and, when she left, averred that it had been the most delightful visit she had ever paid.



CHAPTER XXII.

LIFE AT WOODBURN.

Lulu's temper was not conquered, but she was more successful than formerly in combating it. The terrible lesson she had had in the injury to her baby sister, consequent upon her outburst of passion, could not easily be forgotten: the bitter recollection was often a great restraint upon her, and her father's loving watchfulness saved her many a time, when, without it, she would have fallen; he kept her with him almost constantly when at home,—and he was rarely absent,—scarcely allowed her to go anywhere off the estate without him, and seemed never for a moment to forget her and her special temptation: the slightest elevation in the tones of her voice was sure to catch his ear; and a warning look generally proved sufficient to put her on her guard, and check the rising storm of anger.

There were several reasons why it was—as she often asserted—easier to be good with him than with Mr. Dinsmore: he was more patient and sympathizing, less ready to speak with stern authority, though he could be stern enough when he deemed it necessary. Besides, he was her father, whom she greatly reverenced and dearly loved, and who had, as she expressed it, a right to rule her and to punish her when she deserved it.

One morning, after several very happy weeks at Woodburn, the quiet of the schoolroom, which had been profound for many minutes, was broken by a slight exclamation of impatience from Lulu.

Her father, glancing up from the letter he was writing, saw an ominous frown on her brow, as she bent over her slate, setting down figures upon it, and quickly erasing them again, with a sort of feverish haste, shrugging her shoulders fretfully, and pushing her arithmetic peevishly aside with the free hand.

"Lulu, my daughter," he said, in a quiet tone, "put on your hat and coat, and take a five-minutes' run on the driveway."

"Just now, papa?" she asked, looking up in surprise.

"Yes, just now. When you think you have been out the specified number of minutes, you may come back; but I shall not find fault with you if you are not quite punctual, as you will not have a timepiece with you."

"Thank you, sir," she said, obeying with alacrity.

She came in again presently, with cheeks glowing and eyes sparkling, not a cloud on her brow.

"Ah! I see you feel better," her father remarked, smiling kindly upon her; "and I have finished my letter, so have time to talk with you. Max and Gracie, you may take your turn at a run in the fresh air now."

Donning their outdoor garments, while Lulu took hers off, and put them in their proper place, they hurried away.

"Bring your slate and book here, daughter," was the next order, in the kindest of tones, "and let me see what was troubling you so."

"It's these vulgar fractions, papa," she said, giving herself an impatient shake. "I don't wonder they call them vulgar, for they're so hateful! I can't understand the rule, and I can't get the examples right. I wish you wouldn't make me learn them."

"Daughter, daughter!" he said, in grave, reproving accents, "don't give way to an impatient temper. It will only make matters worse."

"But, papa," she said, bringing the book and slate as directed, "won't you please let me skip these vulgar fractions?"

"I thought," he said, "that my Lulu was a brave, persevering little girl, not ready to be overcome by a slight difficulty."

"Oh! but it isn't a slight one, papa: it's big and hard," she pleaded.

"I will go over the rule with you, and try to make it clear," he returned, still speaking in a pleasant tone; "and then we will see what we can do with these troublesome examples."

She sighed almost hopelessly, but gave her attention fully to his explanation, and presently cried out joyfully, "Oh, I do understand it now, papa! and I believe I can get the sums right."

"I think you can," he said. "Stand here by my side, and let me see you try."

She succeeded, and was full of joy.

"There is nothing like trying, my little girl," he said, smiling at her exultation and delight.

She came to him again after lessons were done, and Max and Grace had left the room once more.

"May I talk a little to you, papa?" she asked.

"Yes, more than a little, if you wish," he replied, laying aside the book he had taken up. "What is it?"

"Papa, I want to thank you for sending me out to take that run, and then helping me so nicely and kindly with my arithmetic."

"You are very welcome, my darling," he said, drawing her to a seat upon his knee.

"If you hadn't done it, papa, or if you had spoken sternly to me, as grandpa Dinsmore would have done in your place, I'd have been in a great passion in a minute. I was feeling like just picking up my slate, and dashing it to pieces against the corner of the desk."

"How grieved I should have been had you done so!" he said; "very, very sorry for your wrong-doing, and that I should have to keep my word in regard to the punishment to be meted out for such conduct."