"Mamma has sent for my sisters Elsie and Violet. She wants as many of her children and grandchildren near her as possible; but Harold and Herbert have to be left out because, being so far away, there is not time to summon them."

"O Ned," cried Rosie, in an agony of terror, "is—is mamma in immediate danger? What—what is it Cousin Arthur is going to do?"

"A—surgical operation is, he says, the only—only thing that can possibly save her life, and—he hopes it will."

"But he isn't certain? O mamma, mamma!" cried Rosie, bursting into an uncontrollable fit of weeping.

Zoe was sobbing too, Edward holding her in his arms and scarce able to refrain from joining with her, and at that moment the Fairview carriage drove up, and Elsie Leland, alighting therefrom, quickly came in among them, asking in alarm, as she saw their tear-stained, agitated faces, "What is the matter? Oh, is mamma ill?"

Then Edward's story had to be repeated to her, and shortly after to Violet, who, with her children, arrived a little later.

They too seemed almost overwhelmed with distress.

"Can we go to her?" Violet asked, and Mrs. Dinsmore, who had just joined them, replied, "Not yet; your grandpa is with her, and wishes to have her to himself for a while."

"Ob, I hope he will not keep us long away from her; our own, own dear mother!" exclaimed Rosie, with a fresh burst of tears and sobs.

"I think not long, Rosie, dear," Mrs. Dinsmore replied soothingly, putting an arm round the weeping girl as she spoke, and smoothing her hair with gently caressing hand. "Your mamma will be asking for you all presently. She has said that until the danger is past, she wants you all near enough to be summoned to her side in a moment."

"And I—we all—know she is ready for any event," Elsie Leland said, in trembling, tearful tones.

"Yes; and I believe God will spare her to us for years to come, in answer to our prayers," remarked Mrs. Dinsmore in cheerful, hopeful accents.

Walter had gone out into the grounds at the time the older ones repaired to the veranda, and Grace, with Violet's little ones, had joined him there on alighting from the carriage which had brought them from Woodburn.

The four now came running in and Walter, noticing the looks of grief and anxiety on the faces of the older people asked anxiously, "What's the matter, folks?" then added quickly. "Oh, I hope mamma is not worse! Is that it, grandma?" His query was not answered, for at that moment Dr. Conly's carriage came driving up the avenue. All crowded about him as he alighted and came up the steps into the veranda. That, however, was nothing new for he was a great favorite, being not only their relative, but their trusted and valued physician.

"You have come to see mamma?" Mrs. Leland said, half inquiringly. "Oh, Cousin Arthur, do be frank with us! do tell us plainly what you think of her case."

"It is a serious one, Cousin Elsie, I will not deny that," the doctor replied, a very grave and concerned look on his face as he spoke, "and yet I have strong hope of complete recovery; so do not any of you give way to despair, but unite together in prayer for God's blessing on the means used."

"Can I see her now, Aunt Rose?" he asked, turning to Mrs. Dinsmore. "I think so," she replied, leading the way, the doctor following, while the others remained where they were, waiting in almost silent suspense.

To them all it seemed a long, sad day. One at a time they were admitted to a short interview with their mother, in which she spoke with each one as though it might be her last opportunity, the burden of her talk being always an earnest exhortation to a life hid with God in Christ; a life of earnest, loving service to him who had died to redeem them from sin and eternal death.

She was very cheerful and spoke hopefully of the result of the operation, yet added that, as it might prove fatal, and in a way to leave her neither time nor strength for these last words, she must speak them now; but they need not despair of seeing her restored to health and given many more years of sweet companionship with her loved ones.

Walter, as the youngest, took his turn last.

For many minutes he could do nothing but sob on his mother's breast. "O mamma, mamma," he cried, "I cannot, cannot do without you!"

"Mother knows it will be hard for her baby boy at first," she said, low and tenderly, holding him close to her heart; "but some day you will come to mamma in that happy land where there is no parting, no death, and where sorrow and sighing shall flee away; the land where 'the inhabitant shall not say I am sick'; the land where there is no sin, no suffering of any kind, and God shall wipe away all tears from our eyes.

"My darling, my little son, there is nothing else mother so desires for you as that you may be a lamb of Christ's fold, and I have strong hopes that you already are. You know that Jesus died to save sinners; that he is able to save to the uttermost all that come unto God by him; that you can do nothing to earn salvation, but must take it as God's free unmerited gift: that Jesus says, 'Him that cometh to me I will in no wise cast out.' All this you know, my son?"

"Yes, mamma dearest," he sobbed. "Oh, how good it was in him to die that cruel death that we might live! Yes, I do love him, and he won't be angry with me because I'm almost heartbroken at the thought of having to do without my dear, dear mother, for many years. O mamma, mamma, how can I live without you?"

"It may please the dear Lord Jesus to spare you that trial, my darling boy," she said. "I know that he will, if in his infinite wisdom he sees it to be for the best.

"And we must just trust him, remembering those sweet Bible words, 'We know that all things work together for good to them that love God.' Leave it all with him, my darling, feeling perfectly sure that whatever he orders will be for the best; that though we may not be able to see it so now, we shall at the last."

"But, mamma, I must pray that you may be cured and live with us for many, many years. It will not be wrong to ask him for that?"

"No, not if you ask in submission to his will, remembering that no one of us knows what is really for our highest good. Remember his own prayer in his agony there in the garden of Gethsemane, 'Father, if thou be willing, remove this cup from me: nevertheless, not my will, but thine, be done.'

"He is our example and we must strive to be equally submissive to the Father's will. Remember what the dear Master said to Peter, 'What I do thou knowest not now; but thou shalt know hereafter.'"

"Mamma, I will try to be perfectly submissive to his will, even if it is to take you away from me; but oh, I must pray, pray, pray as hard as I can that it may please him to spare your dear life and let me keep my mother at least till I am grown to be a man. It won't be wrong, mamma?"

"No, my darling boy, I think not—if with it all you can truly, from your heart, say, 'thy will, not mine, be done.'"

When Captain Raymond followed his wife and little ones to Ion, he found there a distressed household, anxious and sorely troubled over the suffering and danger of the dearly beloved mother and mistress. Violet met him on the veranda, her cheeks pale and showing traces of tears, her eyes full of them.

"My darling!" he exclaimed in surprise and alarm, "what is the matter?"

He clasped her in his arms as he spoke, and dropping her head upon his shoulder, she sobbed out the story of her mother's suffering and the trial that awaited her on the morrow.

His grief and concern were scarcely less than her own, but he tried to speak words of comfort to both her and the others to whom the loved invalid was so inexpressibly dear. To the beloved invalid also when, like the rest, he was accorded a short interview.

Yet he found to his admiring surprise that she seemed in small need of such service—so calm, so peaceful, so entirely ready for any event was she.

Finding his presence apparently a source of strength and consolation, not only to his young wife, but to all the members of the stricken household, he remained till after tea, but then returned home for the night, principally for Lulu's sake; not being willing to leave the child alone, or nearly so, in that great house.



CHAPTER XII.

The duties of the schoolroom had filled up the rest of the morning for Lulu, so occupying her mind that she could give only an occasional thought to the sad fact that she was in disgrace with her father.

Then came dinner, which she took in the dining-room, feeling it lonely enough with the whole family absent; immediately after that a music lesson filled another hour, and that was followed by an hour of practice on the piano.

Then Alma wanted her again, and then, knowing it was what her father would approve, she took her usual exercise about the grounds; after which she prepared her lessons for the next day.

But all the time her heart was heavy with the consciousness that "papa, dear papa," was displeased with her, and she felt that there could be no happiness for her till she had made her peace with him.

"Oh," she sighed again and again, "will he never, never come, that I may tell him how sorry and ashamed I am?"

But when tea-time came he was still absent, and that meal also had to be taken alone.

She did not linger at the table, and on leaving it went into the library where a wood fire blazed cheerfully on the hearth, for the evenings were now quite cool, and settling herself in an easy-chair listened for the sound of his coming.

She was too much disturbed, and too anxious to read or work, so sat doing nothing but listen intently for the sound of horses' hoofs or carriage-wheels on the drive without.

"Will he punish me?" she was asking herself. "I believe I want him to, for I'm sure I richly deserve it. Oh, there he is! I hear his voice in the hall!" and her heart beat fast as she sprang up and ran to meet him.

He was already at the door of the room when she reached it.

"Papa," she said humbly, and with her eyes on the carpet, "I—I'm very, very sorry for my naughtiness this morning. I have obeyed you—asked Alma's pardon—and—please, dear papa, won't you forgive me, too?"

"Certainly, dear child," he said, bending down to press a kiss upon her lips. "I am always ready to forgive my dear children when they tell me they are sorry for having offended, and ready to obey."

He led her to the easy-chair by the fireside, which she had just vacated, and seating himself therein, drew her to a seat upon his knee.

"Papa, I'm so sorry, so very sorry for my badness, so ashamed of not being obedient to such a dear, kind father," she said, low and tremulously, blushing painfully as she spoke. "Please, I want you to punish me well for it."

"Have I not already done so, daughter?" he asked. "I doubt if this has been a happy day to you."

"Oh, no, indeed, papa! I soon repented of my badness and looked everywhere for you to tell you how sorry I was and ask you to forgive me. But you were gone and so I had to wait, and the day has seemed as if it would never end, though I've been trying to do everything I thought you would bid me do if you were here."

"Then I think I need add no further punishment," he said, softly caressing her hair and cheek with his hand.

"But please I want you to, because I deserve it and ought to be made to pay for such badness; and I'm afraid if I'm not, I'll just be bad again soon."

"Well, daughter," he replied, "we will leave that question open to consideration. I see you have books here on the table, and we will now attend to the recitations."

Her recitations were quite perfect, and he gave the deserved meed of praise, appointed the tasks for the next day, then drawing her to his knee again, said: "It does not seem to me necessary, daughter, to inflict any further punishment for the wrong-doings of this morning. You are sorry for them, and do not intend to offend in the same way again?"

"Yes, I am sorry, papa, and I don't mean to behave so any more; still, I'd feel more comfortable, and surer of not being just as bad again in a few days or weeks, if you'd punish me. So please do."

"Very well, then, I will give you an extra task or two," he said, taking up her Latin grammar, "I will give you twice the usual lesson in this. Then, not as a punishment, but for your good, I want you to search out all the texts you can find in God's Holy Word about the sinfulness of anger and pride and the duty of confessing our faults, not only to him, but to those whom we have injured by them."

Opening the Family Bible which lay on the table close at hand, "Here is one in Proverbs," he said. "'He that covereth his sins shall not prosper; but whoso confesseth and forsaketh them, shall have mercy."'

Then turning to the New Testament, he read again, "'Therefore, if thou bring thy gift to the altar, and there rememberest that thy brother hath aught against thee, leave there thy gift before the altar, and go thy way; first be reconciled to thy brother, and then come and offer thy gift.'"

"That is in Matthew," he said, "and here in the Epistle of James," again turning over the leaves, "we read perhaps the plainest direction of all on the subject, 'Confess your faults one to another, and pray one for another that ye may be healed.'"

"But, papa——" she paused, hanging her head while a vivid blush suffused her cheeks.

"Well, daughter, what is it? Do not be afraid to let me know all your thoughts. I want you always to talk freely to me, that if you are wrong I may be able to convince you of the right. I want my children to act intelligently, doing right because they see that it is right, and not merely because papa commands it."

"Please don't be angry with me, papa, but, it did seem to me a sort of degradation to have to ask pardon of a—a woman who has to work for her living like Alma," she said with some hesitation, blushing and hanging her head as she spoke.

"I am very, very sorry to hear such sentiments from a daughter of mine," he returned in a gravely concerned tone and with a slight sigh. "It is wicked pride, my child, that puts such thoughts in your head.

"And who can say that there may not come a time when you too will have to work for your living? The Bible tells us riches certainly take to themselves wings and fly away."

Again turning over the leaves, "Here is the passage—twenty-third chapter of Proverbs, fourth and fifth verses: 'Labor not to be rich; cease from thine own wisdom. Wilt thou set thine eyes upon that which is not? for riches certainly make themselves wings; they fly away as an eagle toward heaven.'

"And how little are they really worth, while we have them? 'Riches profit not in the day of wrath,' we are told in this Holy Book. And it says a great deal of the folly and sinfulness of pride; particularly in this book of Proverbs;" turning over the leaves he read here and there—"'When pride cometh, then cometh shame; but, with the lowly is wisdom.' 'Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall. Better is it to be an humble spirit with the lowly, than to divide the spoil with the proud.'

"'Proud and haughty scorner is his name who dealeth in proud wrath.'

"'A man's pride shall bring him low: but honor shall uphold the humble in spirit.'

"'The fear of the Lord is to hate evil: pride, and arrogancy, and the evil way and the forward mouth, do I hate.'"

There was a moment of silence, then Lulu said humbly, tears starting to her eyes as she spoke, "Papa, I did not know—at least I never thought about it—that pride was so wicked."

"Yes," he said, "the Bible tells us that everyone proud in heart is an abomination to the Lord, that God resisteth the proud, but giveth grace unto the humble; there is much in the Bible against pride and in favor of humility. We are all sinners, worthy of nothing good at the hands of God, and what have we to do with pride?"

"Papa, when I say my prayers to-night I will ask God to take away all the wicked pride out of my heart; and won't you ask him too?"

"I will, my darling, as I have already, very many times, and I hope you have not neglected to ask him to forgive your wrong thoughts, feelings, and actions of this morning?"

"I have asked for that, papa, and I will again," she replied.

They were silent again for a little while, the captain looking as if his thoughts were far away; Lulu was studying his face with eyes that presently filled with tears.

"Papa," she said low, and half tremulously, "you look so sad. Is it all because you are grieved over my naughtiness?"

"No, daughter, not all; indeed I was hardly thinking of that at the moment, but of the grief, sorrow and anxiety at Ion."

"What about, papa?" she queried with a startled look. "Oh, I hope that nothing bad has happened to Gracie or Mamma Vi, or our little ones?"

"No; I am thankful that all is right with them: but dear Grandma Elsie is in a very critical condition; I cannot tell you exactly what ails her, but she has been suffering very much for months past, keeping it to herself till yesterday, when she told it all to Cousin Arthur, and learned from him that nothing but a difficult and dangerous surgical operation could save her life.

"That is to be performed to-morrow, and, whether she lives or dies, will relieve her from the dreadful agony she is enduring; for no one who knows her can doubt that she is one of God's dear children. Death will be gain to her, but a sad loss to all of us."

Before he had finished Lulu's face was hidden on his shoulder and she was weeping bitterly.

"O papa," she sobbed, "I'm so, so sorry for her, dear, dear Grandma Elsie! Isn't she frightened almost to death?"

"No, daughter; she is very calm and peaceful, ready to live or die as God's will shall be; grieving only for those who love her so dearly and find it so difficult to be reconciled to the thought of losing her; her efforts are all to comfort them. She has set her house in order and seems quite ready for either life or death.

"But we will pray—you and I—as the others are praying, that if God's will be so, she may live and go in and out before us for many years to come."

"Yes, papa. Oh, I am glad that we may ask our kind heavenly Father for everything we want! Poor Mamma Vi! how her heart must ache! and is she going to stay on at Ion now, papa?"

"Yes; certainly till her mother is out of danger or forever done with sin and suffering. Gracie and our two little ones will stay too; Gracie amusing the others and keeping them in the grounds, or a part of the house so distant from Grandma Elsie's room that their noise will not disturb her."

"And you and I will stay on here, papa?"

"Yes; I must be here a good deal of the time to oversee my workmen, and shall want my dear eldest daughter to be my companion and helper in various ways, for I know she loves to be such to her father," he added, pressing his lips to her cheek.

"Indeed I do, papa! Oh, thank you for letting me!" she exclaimed, lifting her head and showing eyes shining through tears. "I'd rather be here with you, than anywhere else, my own dear, dear father!" putting her arms about his neck and hugging him close. "Only," she added, "I'd like to see Gracie and the others for a little bit every once in a while if I may."

"Yes, you shall," he said, returning her embrace. "Perhaps I may be able to take you over there for a short visit almost every day. And in the meantime we may hope that lessons and the dressmaking will go on prosperously."

"Are you going to spend your nights here at home, papa?" she asked with a wistful, half pleading look.

"Yes, dear child; I could not think of leaving you alone; nor would your Mamma Vi wish me to do so while she has both her brother and grandfather near her, to say nothing of the women, children, and servants; you will have me close at hand every night and the greater part of the day."

"Oh, I am so glad and thankful!" she said, with a sigh of relief. "I don't think I should be exactly afraid, because God would be with me, but it is so delightful to have my dear earthly father too. May I sleep in Gracie'e room to be nearer to you?"

"Yes; and with the door open between it and mine, so that if you want anything in the night you will only need to call to me and I will go to you at once.

"Now if there are any more questions you would like answered, let me hear them."

"There is something I'd like to say, papa, but I'm—almost afraid."

"Afraid of what, daughter?" he asked, as she paused in some embarrassment, and with a half pleading look into his eyes.

"That you might think it saucy and be displeased with me.

"Do you mean it so, daughter?"

"Oh, no indeed, papa!"

"Then you need not be afraid to let me hear it."

"Papa, it is only that I—I think if you had talked to me this morning, when you called me to you, about the wickedness of being too proud to ask Alma's pardon, and reasoned with me as you did a little while ago, about it all, I—I'd have obeyed you at once; you know you do almost always show me the reasonableness of your commands before, or when, you lay them upon me."

"Yes, my child," he said in a kindly tone, "I have done so as a rule, and should in this instance, but that I was much hurried for time. That will sometimes happen, and you and all my children must always obey me promptly, whether you can or cannot at the moment see the reasonableness of the order given. Is your estimation of your father's wisdom and his love for you so low that you cannot trust him thus far?"

"O papa, forgive me!" she exclaimed, putting her arms about his neck and laying her cheek to his. "I do hope I'll never, never again hesitate one minute to obey any order from you; because I know you love me, and that you are very wise and would never bid me do anything but what I ought."

"Certainly never intentionally, daughter; and surely your father, who is so many years older than yourself, should be esteemed by you as somewhat wiser."

"O papa, I know you are a great, great deal wiser than I," she said earnestly. "How ridiculous it seems to think of anybody comparing my wisdom with yours! I know I'm only a silly little girl, and not a good one either, and it would be a sad thing to have a father no wiser or better than myself."



CHAPTER XIII.

The morning of that critical day found Grandma Elsie as calm and cheerful as she had been the previous evening, though every other face among the older members of the family showed agitation and anxiety. Her daughters, Elsie and Violet, were with her almost constantly during the early hours, doing everything in their power to show their devoted affection and make all things ready for the surgeons and their assistants; her father and his wife also giving their aid and loving sympathy, while Edward and Zoe attended to necessary arrangements elsewhere, occasionally snatching a moment to stand beside the dear sufferer and speak words of love and hope.

Rosie and Walter were allowed one short interview in which they were clasped in her arms and a few loving, tender words spoken that both she and they felt might be the last.

Captain Raymond came a little earlier than the doctor. Lester was already there, and each young wife found the presence of her husband a comfort and support while, in an adjoining room, they waited in almost agonizing suspense to hear that the operation was over and what was the result.

They were a silent group, every heart going up in strong crying to God, that, if consistent with his holy will, the dear mother might be spared to them.

And the united petition was granted; Mrs. Dinsmore presently came to them, her face radiant with joy and hope. "It is over," she said; "successfully over, and the doctors say that with the good nursing she is sure to have she will soon be restored to perfect health."

The communication was received with tears of joy and thankfulness.

"It will be strange indeed if she lacks anything the most devoted nurses can do for her," remarked Mr. Leland.

"I should think so, with three daughters, two sons, and as many sons-in-law, to say nothing of father and mother," remarked Violet, with a tearful smile. "Levis, you will spare me to her as long as I am needed?"

"Certainly, my love," he replied, without a moment's hesitation; "there is nothing we could refuse, or grudge to our beloved mother at this, or indeed at any time."

"O grandma, may we go to her now?" queried Rose and Walter in a breath.

"I think not yet, dears; she must be kept very, very quiet," was the gently spoken reply. "I know it would be a joy to both you and her to meet and exchange a few words, but it might be a risk for her; and I know you would far rather deny yourselves the gratification than do anything to increase her suffering; to say nothing of endangering her precious life."

"O grandma, neither of us would be willing to do that for the wealth of the world!" exclaimed Rosie, with starting tears.

"No, indeed!" cried Walter. "It is very hard to refrain, but we would not injure our mother for the world; our dear, dear mother!"

"I am sure of it," said Grandma Rose, smiling kindly upon him. "And now, Walter, would not you and Rosie like to go over to Fairview and carry the good news to Eva and Gracie? They are there with the little ones, and I know would be very glad to hear that your dear mother is over the worst of her trial."

"I am going over there for Gracie, Elsie, and Ned, to take them home to Woodburn for a while," said Captain Raymond, "and if you two would like it, will take you both with me, leave you there, bring you back here, or carry you on to Woodburn, as you may prefer."

"Thank you, sir," said Rosie. "I will be pleased to go as far as Fairview with you, but not on to Woodburn at this time: because I do not feel at all sure that mamma may not be taken worse. So I shall not stay long away from home."

Walter's reply was to the same effect, and as the captain's carriage and horses were already at the door, the three were presently on their way to Fairview.

Grace and Evelyn were rejoiced to see them, and having been in great anxiety about their dear "Grandma Elsie," felt much relieved by the news of her which they brought.

The captain was in some haste to return to Woodburn, and Rosie and Walter, finding they wanted to stay a while with Evelyn and their sister Elsie's children, decided to walk back to Ion; the distance being none too great for either their strength or enjoyment.

Home and Sister Lu held strong attractions for Grace, Elsie, and Ned, and they were full of delight as papa lifted them into the carriage and took his seat beside them.

"Et Ned sit on oo knee, papa," pleaded the baby, and was at once lifted to the desired place.

"Papa's dear baby boy," the captain said, smoothing his curls and smiling down into the pretty blue eyes. "How glad Sister Lulu will be to see you and Elsie, and Gracie!"

"And we'll be just as glad to see her, papa," said Grace. "I know it's not very long since we came away from our own dear home and Lu, but it does seem a long time."

"Isn't Lu tired doing without us, papa?" asked Elsie.

"I think she is," he replied; "at all events I know she will be very glad to see you. It is nearly dinner-time now," he added, looking at his watch, "so we will go directly home. But this afternoon I will take you all for a nice, long drive, then leave you little ones at Ion and take Lulu home again."

Lulu had been busy all the morning attending to her studies, her practice on the piano, the demands of the dressmaker, and taking her usual exercise about the grounds. She was out in them now, watching for the coming of her father, eager to see him and to hear how it was with dear Grandma Elsie.

Presently she heard the sound of carriage-wheels on the road, then in another minute the vehicle turned in at the great gates and came rapidly up the drive, little Elsie calling out from it, "Lu, Lu, we've come!"

"Have you, Elsie? Oh, I'm so glad!" she called in reply.

The carriage had stopped, Lulu bounded toward it, and her father, throwing open the door, helped her in. Hugs and kisses and laughter followed; so glad were the happy children to meet again after even so short a separation.

In another minute the carriage drew up before the entrance to the mansion, and the captain and his joyous little troop alighted. Dinner was ready to be served, and as soon as hats and other outer garments had been disposed of the merry little party gathered about the table. Mamma was missed but it was very pleasant to all to find themselves there with their fond father and each other. Lulu's fears for dear Grandma Elsie had been much relieved by the report of the success of the surgeons, so that she was light-hearted and gay as well as the younger ones.

Immediately after dinner, while the little ones took their accustomed afternoon nap, she recited her lessons, doing so in a manner that drew hearty commendation from her father, who was always glad to be able to bestow it; then, knowing it would be a joy to her to do them, he called upon her for some of the little services she was accustomed to render him.

These attended to, "Now, daughter," he said, "you may dress yourself nicely for a drive. I am going to take you and your little brother and sisters for a pretty long one. Then I will drop them at Ion, and you and I, after a call of a few minutes to hear how Grandma Elsie is, will drive home together."

"Oh, how pleasant that will be, papa! How good you always are to every one of us children!" she exclaimed, giving him an ardent kiss, then running away to do his bidding.

A merry, happy time the children had, and on reaching Ion the little ones were ready for their supper and bed. The older ones were full of joy on learning that their loved Grandma Elsie was as comfortable and doing as well as possible under the circumstances. The captain and Lulu spent a quiet half-hour with the Ion family and Violet, then departed for Woodburn.

As the carriage started, the captain put an arm round Lulu, drew her close to him, and smiling affectionately down into her face, said: "How glad I am to be able to keep one of my loved flock with me!"

"And oh, how glad I am that I'm the one, you dear, dear papa!" responded the little girl, returning his loving look and smile. Then, with a sigh, "I think there are some fathers who wouldn't be very fond of even their own child, if she were so often ill-tempered and disobedient. Papa, I've been thinking all day that you didn't punish me half so severely as I deserved for my naughtiness yesterday."

"I would rather err on that side than the other, daughter," he said, in tender tones, "and I hope your future behavior will be such as to prove that the slight punishment inflicted was all-sufficient."

"I hope so, indeed, papa," she answered earnestly, "but if I am disobedient and ill-tempered again soon, you will be more severe with me, won't you? I really want you to, that I may improve."

"Yes, daughter, I think I must," he replied a little sadly; then after a moment's silence went on again: "I expect to pay a little visit to Max in January, and if my eldest daughter has been a good and obedient child——" He paused, looking smilingly at her.

"You will take me with you, papa?" she cried half-breathlessly. "Oh, how I should like it! Ah, I do hope I shall not be so bad that you will have to leave me behind."

"No, I hope not. I want to take you; to share the pleasure of my dear eldest daughter will double it to me, and if neither bad conduct on your part, nor anything else happens to prevent, you shall go with me."

"Oh, thank you, dear papa!" she exclaimed, her cheeks glowing and her eyes sparkling with delight, "you are so good to me that I just hate myself for ever doing anything to vex or grieve you."

"My dear child," he said with emotion, "be more watchful, careful, and prayerful; fight more earnestly and determinately the good fight of faith, ever looking to God for help, for only so may you hope to gain the victory at last, and to be able to say, 'in all these things we are more than conquerors through him that loved us.'"

"I will try, papa," she said, tears starting to her eyes, "but oh, it is such a hard fight for anybody with a temper like mine. Please help me all you can by praying for me, and punishing me too, whenever you see that I need it."

"I will do all I can for you, my darling, in every way," he replied, "but as I have often told you, the hardest part of the conflict must inevitably be your own.

"Cling close to Jesus, and cry to him every day and every hour for help, for only by his all-powerful assistance can we hope to win holiness and heaven at last."

"I will try, papa, I will indeed," she said. "I am, oh, so glad and thankful that he will let me cling to him and that he promises his help to those who ask him for it."

"Yes, he says, 'In me is thine help,' and having his help what can harm us? since he is the Lord who made heaven and earth."

Again a few moments of silence; then Lulu said, "Papa, you have often told me I inherit my temper from you, and though I could never believe it if anybody else had told me, I have to believe you because I know you always speak the truth; but how did you ever conquer it so completely?"

"By determined effort, at the same time looking to God for help," he replied; "and only by the same means can I even now keep it under control."

"And you think I can learn to control mine if I use the same means?"

"I do; God, our kind heavenly Father, is as able and as willing to help you as me."

"Yes," she said thoughtfully, "and if I don't choose to try hard enough, at the same time praying earnestly for help, I deserve to be punished by my earthly father; and I do really hope he always will punish me till he has taught me to be as patient and self-controlled as he is," she added, nestling closer to him and slipping a hand into his. "Papa, I often wonder why I wasn't made as patient and sweet-tempered as Gracie. She doesn't seem to have any temper at all to fight."

"No; but she has her own peculiar temptations, of some of which your firmer, braver nature knows nothing; and each must battle with her own faults and failings, looking to God for help in the hard struggle. To God, who, the Bible tells us, 'will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able; but will with the temptation also make a way to escape that ye may be able to bear it.'"

"It is a precious promise, papa," she said, with thoughtful look and tone, "and I am glad you reminded me of it. It makes me feel less discouraged about trying to conquer my besetting sins."

"In the first chapter of Joshua," replied her father, "the Lord says to him three times, 'Be strong and of a good courage,' the last time adding, 'be not afraid, neither be thou dismayed; for the Lord thy God is with thee whithersoever thou goest.' And that blessed assurance of the constant, sustaining presence of our God, each one of his children may take to him or herself."

"What a comfort, papa!" she exclaimed. "Oh, the Bible is such a blessing! I do feel sorry for all the people who have none."

"Yes," he responded, "they are greatly to be pitied, and those who have dared to take it from others will have much to answer for in the day of judgment; as will those also who, having it themselves, make no effort to supply it to such as have it not.

"Ah, here we are at our own home!" he added, as the carriage drew up before the entrance.

"And such a sweet home as it is!" she responded, as he threw open the door, sprang out, and took her in his arms.

"Yes," he said, "so I think, and am glad my little girl appreciates it. There," setting her on her feet, "run in, daughter, and make yourself ready for the tea-table."

She obeyed and presently they two were seated cozily at a little round table in the family breakfast-room, greatly enjoying their tea, broiled chicken, and waffles.

"Papa," remarked Lulu, as she poured out his second cup, "I'm sorry for you that you have only me for company, but I do enjoy being—once in a while—all the family you have at home."

"Do you?" he returned, with a good-humored little laugh. "Well, I am glad to have you contented and happy; and I can't deny that I should feel very lonely here to-night without the pleasant companionship of my dear eldest daughter. What do you want to do this evening? how shall we spend our time alone together?

"I have my lessons to learn, you know, papa."

"Ah, yes; and I must write some letters. And after that perhaps you may find a bit of sewing to do, while your father reads aloud something that will be both interesting and instructive to his dear little girl."

"Yes, sir; I have some work on hand for our Dorcas Society, and though I rather dislike sewing, I shall not mind doing it while listening to your reading," she answered, smiling brightly up into his face.

"Ah! then that is what we will do," he said, returning her smile.

"Well, daughter, has it been a pleasant evening to you?" he asked, when the time had come for the good-nights to be said.

"Indeed it has, papa," she replied, giving him an ardent hug. "Oh, I am so glad you didn't let me go to Ion with the others, but kept me at home with you. I do hope that I'll remember after this that you always know and do the very best thing for me, and that I'll never, never grow ill-tempered and rebellious, as I was yesterday."

"You think you can trust your father after this, even without being told his reasons for all he does and requires?"

"I hope so, papa, and indeed, indeed I'm very much ashamed of my rebellious feelings and don't intend to indulge in them any more!" she added, with a remorseful look up into his face.

"Try to keep that resolution, dear child," he said. "Now good-night and pleasant dreams. May he who neither slumbers nor sleeps have you in his kind care and keeping. But if you want your earthly father, you have only to call out or run to him."



CHAPTER XIV.

Lulu's first thought on awaking the next morning was of dear Grandma Elsie. "I wonder," she said to herself, "if papa has not been asking news of her through the telephone; oh, I hope she is getting well!"

Hurrying through the duties of the toilet, she was ready to run to meet her father when presently she heard his steps in the hall without.

"Good-morning, papa," she cried. "Oh, have you heard from Ion how Grandma Elsie passed the night?"

"Yes," he said, bending down to give her a good-morning kiss, "she passed a very comfortable night; is thought to be doing as well as possible. Mamma Vi and our little ones are all right also; I have just had a talk with your mamma, through the telephone."

"Oh, I am glad! How nice it is that we can talk in that way to the folks at Ion and the other places where Mamma Vi's relations live!"

"Yes; a telephone is really a blessing under such circumstances. I am much more reconciled to being at some short distance from my wife and little ones than I could be if without such means of communication."

They went down to the library together and seating himself he drew her to his knee, saying pleasantly, "You are the youngest child at home with me, and I think I must have you here. I hope you will never think yourself too old to sometimes sit on your father's knee."

"No, papa, I'm sure I never shall while you are willing to let me," she replied, putting an arm round his neck and gazing lovingly into his eyes.

They chatted for a few minutes, then the breakfast bell rang, and presently they were again seated at the little round table from which they had eaten last night's supper, Lulu pouring the coffee with a very grown-up air, while her father filled her plate and his own with the tempting viands.

"What a lovely, delightful home we have, papa!" she remarked, as she handed him his cup. "I do really think that with such a father and such a home I ought to be the best girl in the world; and I do mean to try to be."

"I have no doubt you do, daughter, and I have seldom had occasion to find serious fault with you in the last year or more, so that I am by no means in despair of seeing you gain control of that troublesome temper which has caused so much unhappiness to both you and me."

"Oh, thank you for saying it, papa!" she returned, with a bright and joyous smile. "I'm determined to try my very best to be as good as possible, both to please you and to earn that visit to Annapolis that you spoke of last night. I think it will be very delightful; and how pleased Max will be to see us; especially you."

"I think he will. Ah, here comes the mail-bag!" as a servant entered with it.

"Oh, I hope there's a letter from Max," Lulu said, as her father opened the bag and took out the contents—papers, magazines, and letters.

"Yes, here is one from our dear boy," he said, singling out a letter and hastily tearing it open.

He read it first to himself, then aloud to her—a bright, cheery, boyish, affectionate epistle such as they were accustomed to receive from Max's pen.

They talked it over together while they finished their breakfast, then returned to the library where, as usual, Christine, Alma, and the servants being called in, the captain led the family devotions, reading a portion of the Scripture and engaging in prayer.

"Are you going immediately to Ion, papa?" asked Lulu, when again they were alone together.

"No," he replied; "I have some matters to attend to here while you are preparing your lessons. After hearing them, if your recitations and conduct have been satisfactory, I intend taking you with me to the village, where I have to make some business arrangements; then we will drive to Ion, spend a little time there, then come home, probably bringing your little sisters and brother with us as we did the other day, returning them as before to your Mamma Vi, just in time for supper and bed, and coming home alone together."

"Oh, I like that, papa!" she exclaimed, "and is it what you intend doing every day?"

"Every day while your Grandma Elsie is so ill that the noise might disturb her; unless the weather should be quite too inclement, I think it will be a relief to your Mamma Vi to have them here a good deal of the time, till her mother is better.

"I suppose so, papa; and at the same time very pleasant for us—they are such darlings!"

"So you and I think," he said, with a smile. "Now go to your lessons, daughter."

At Ion Grandma Elsie lay quietly sleeping, her three daughters watching over her with tenderest care and solicitude. Scarce a sound was to be heard, either within doors or without, save the distant lowing of cattle, the twittering of birds, and the gentle sighing of the wind in the treetops; family and servants moved with cautious tread, speaking seldom, and that with bated breath, lest they should disturb her who was so dear to all hearts.

To Walter it seemed very hard to be shut out of mamma's room, and he sat on the veranda watching for the coming of Cousin Arthur, to petition for admittance, if only for a moment, just to look at her and come away again.

Cousin Arthur had been with her through the night, had gone away early in the morning and was expected back again soon.

The half hour spent in watching and waiting seemed very long indeed to the little lad, but at last, oh joy! there was Cousin Arthur's sulky turning in at the great gates; then it came swiftly up the avenue, and Walter rose and hastened to meet the doctor as he alighted.

"O Cousin Arthur!" he cried, but in subdued tones, "they've shut me out of mamma's room and I just don't know how to stand it any longer. Mayn't I go in, if it's only for a minute, to get one look at her dear face? I won't speak to her or touch her if you say I must not, but oh, I don't know how to endure being kept away from her altogether."

The little fellow's tones were tremulous, and his eyes filled with tears as he spoke.

Dr. Conly felt for the child, and laying a hand kindly on his head, said cheerfully, "Don't be down-hearted, my boy, your mother will be well enough in a few days, I hope, to stand quite an interview with her youngest son, and perhaps it may do for you to go in for a moment this morning; you may come upstairs with me and wait in the hall till I see how she is. If I find her well enough to stand a peep from her boy, you shall go in for a minute, provided you will promise to be cheerful and not to speak unless you have the doctor's permission."

"Oh, I'll promise to do anything you bid me, if you'll only let me see her," returned Walter in eager tones, then followed the doctor with noiseless tread through the hall and up the broad stairway.

Reaching his mother's door, he paused and waited outside while the doctor went quietly in.

His patient seemed to be asleep, but opened her eyes and smiled up into his face as he reached the bedside.

"Dear cousin," he said, low and tenderly, "are you feeling quite easy now?"

"Quite so," she answered in low, sweet tones; "all is going right, I think. Is it not?"

"Yes, so it would seem. You are the best of patients, and with the abundance of good nursing you are sure to have, I think we will soon have you about again. But," glancing around upon her three daughters, "she must be kept very quiet, neither talking nor being talked to much more than is absolutely necessary.

"However, I am going to allow Walter a moment's sight of his mother, and as he is your baby boy, you may, if you choose, speak half a dozen words to him," he added, addressing himself directly to the patient.

Then stepping to the door, he beckoned to Walter, and led him to the side of the bed.

"There, laddie, you may tell her how dearly you love her, but nothing more."

"Mamma, dear, darling mamma! I couldn't begin to tell it!" Walter said, low and tremulously, just touching his lips to her cheek.

"Mother's darling boy!" was all she said in response, but the eyes looking into his spoke volumes of mother-love.

"Don't cry, Walter, my man," his cousin said, as he led him out to the hall again; "you have behaved so well that I think you may be allowed another interview to-morrow; and I hope you will see your mother up and about again in perhaps a fortnight from this. You must pray for her healing to the Great Physician, as we all are doing: and pray in faith, for you know the Bible tells us he is the hearer and answerer of prayer."

"Oh, I will! I do!" sobbed the child, "and I'm so glad there are so many others asking for her too, because the Bible says Jesus promised that his Father would grant what two or three agreed together to ask for."

"Yes; pray for your mother, believe God's promises, and be happy in the expectation that she will get well; and with a mind at rest interest yourself in your studies and sports. That's my prescription for you, my lad; now go and take it like a good boy," added the doctor, with a smile, as he turned and re-entered the sick-room.

"A funny prescription, and not so bad to take," laughed Walter to himself, as he wiped away his tears and hastened to the schoolroom to attend to his lessons.

"Nobody here but myself," he sighed, as he crossed the threshold. "It's rather lonesome, but I'll do the best I can. It's what mamma would advise."



CHAPTER XV.

Grace had gone over to Fairview with her little brother and sister, accompanied by their nurse, Mamma Vi having told her she might learn her lessons there, and if Evelyn cared to hear her recite, that would answer very well.

Evelyn was entirely willing, and they had just finished a few minutes before the carriage from Woodburn came driving up the avenue, bringing Grace's father and sister Lulu.

They had already paid a call at Ion, and now had come to make a short one at Fairview, and pick up Gracie, little Elsie, and Ned.

"Papa, papa!" shouted the two little ones, running to meet him as he came up the steps into the veranda, and holding up their faces for a kiss.

"Papa's darlings!" he responded, taking them in his arms to caress and fondle them, then letting them go to give Gracie her turn.

"Is my feeble little girl quite well this morning?" he asked, in tender tones.

"Yes, papa, thank you," she replied, giving him a vigorous hug, "and oh, so glad to see you! Have you come to take us—Elsie and Ned and me—home for a while again?"

"I have," he said, returning her hug. "I can't have your mamma at present, as her mother needs her, but my dear babies I need not do without."

"Am I one of them, papa?" asked Gracie, with a smile. "I'm almost eleven; but I don't mind being one of your babies, if you like to call me that." His only reply was a smile and a loving pat on her cheek, for the two little ones were tugging at his coat and coaxing for a drive.

"Why, Elsie and Ned, you haven't kissed me yet," said Lulu. "Gracie and Eva did while you were exchanging hugs and kisses with papa, and I think it's my turn now."

"So it is! I love you, Lu," cried Elsie, leaving her father for a moment to throw her arms round Lulu's neck in a hearty and loving embrace; Ned quickly followed suit, then running to his father again, renewed his request for a drive in the carriage.

"Yes, my son, you shall have it presently," said the captain; then he proposed to Evelyn that she and her two little cousins should join the party for a short drive in another direction, before he would take his own children home to Woodburn.

His invitation was joyfully accepted and in a few minutes they had all crowded into the captain's carriage and were driving down the avenue.

The little ones were very merry, and the captain did not check their mirth. He was, in fact, in very good spirits himself, because thus far Grandma Elsie's cure had progressed so favorably. It continued to do so from that time till in two weeks she was able to be up and about a part of every day, and Violet returned to Woodburn, though daily, when the weather permitted, she drove over to Ion and spent an hour or more with her mother.

Quite frequently the captain drove her over himself, and leaving her there, went on into the village to attend to some business matter, calling for her on his return.

On one of these occasions, going into the parlor he found there his wife, her mother, eldest sister and grandparents in earnest conversation with the doctor.

When the customary greetings had been exchanged, Grandma Elsie said to him, with a smile, "Captain, these good people seem to have leagued together to send, or to take me, to Viamede to spend the winter, Cousin Arthur having given it as his opinion that a warmer climate than this would probably be of benefit just at this time."

"In which I presume he is quite right, mother," returned the captain. "And surely there is no difficulty in the way?"

"Nothing insurmountable," she replied.

"But we want some one to go on in advance and see that everything is in order for mamma's comfort," said Violet, giving her husband a look that was half entreating, half one of confident assurance that he would deny nothing to her or her loved mother which it was at all in his power to bestow.

"That, I think, would certainly be the better plan," he returned pleasantly, "and if no one more competent than myself is to be had and it suits my wife to accompany me, my services may be considered as offered."

Hearty thanks were at once bestowed upon him by all present.

But he disclaimed all title to them, saying, "I now have everything in order at Woodburn, so that I may feel quite easy in leaving it for even a protracted stay; and to get a view of Viamede will be a new and doubtless very pleasant experience to me, with wife and little ones along; my daughters can go on with their studies under my tuition, there as well as at home, and my intended visit to Max can be paid before starting for the far South. I only fear," he added, with a pleasant glance at Mrs. Leland, "that I may be offering to take upon myself a duty which is much to the taste of one of my brothers-in-law and might be better performed by one or both of them.

"No, captain," replied Mrs. Leland, "you need have no such fear, as neither of them is just now in a position to leave home, unless it were quite necessary for dear mamma's comfort."

"Then we will consider it settled that Violet and I are to go," said the captain, turning to her with his pleasant smile. "How soon can you be ready, my dear?"

"By the first of next week if my husband wishes to start by that time," returned Violet gayly. "Oh, I am quite delighted at the prospect of seeing again that one of our sweet homes, and especially of doing so in company with you, Levis."

The captain considered a moment. "I would not like to disappoint Max," he said. "I think I must visit him next Saturday—as I shall not probably be able to see him again before next spring. But I will make necessary arrangements beforehand and I think we may leave for the South by Wednesday morning of next week, if that will suit you, my dear?"

"Entirely," she said; "it will give me just about time enough to get everything ready without hurry or confusion."

So it was settled, everybody seeming well satisfied with the arrangement.

A little more time was spent in discussing plans, then the captain and Violet bade good-by and set out on their return home.

"You are well pleased with the prospect of this visit to Viamede, Violet, my dear?" the captain said, as they drove rapidly along the familiar road.

"Oh, yes, indeed," she answered brightly; "Viamede is so lovely, a sort of earthly paradise I have always thought, and I am really delighted at the thought of showing it to you. Ah, I am quite sure, having your dear society there, I shall enjoy it more than ever!"

"Thank you, dearest," was his smiling response. "I am certainly pleased with the prospect of seeing that earthly paradise, particularly with you to share my enjoyment. And how pleased Lulu and Gracie will be, for I have often heard them speak of Viamede as even lovelier than Woodburn, which they evidently esteem a very delightful and lovely home."

"As it assuredly is, my dear," was Violet's smiling rejoinder. "I could not ask a lovelier, happier home than that which my husband—the very best and dearest of husbands—has provided for me. Oh, I often ask myself, 'Is there anybody else in all the wide world who has so much to be thankful for as I?'"

"Ah, that fortunate mortal is surely he who sits by your side at this moment, my darling," he answered in moved tones, taking her hand in his and pressing it affectionately.

But the carriage was turning in at the Woodburn gates and presently the glad shout of little voices was borne to their ears on the evening breeze. "There it is! Papa and mamma have come home!"

A joyously tumultuous greeting followed, the little flock gathering about them as they alighted, talking, laughing, dancing around them, claiming their attention and their caresses.

Elsie and Ned pleaded for a ride, and Grace and Lulu seemed not averse to sharing it. So there was a hasty bundling up in capes and hoods, cloaks and shawls, papa piled them in, followed them, taking Ned on his knee, and away they went for a mile or more down the road, then back again, and were presently taking off their outdoor garments in the hall, mamma helping the little ones.

Then all gathered about the tea-table with appetites that made everything taste very good indeed. Elsie and Ned were too busy to talk much, but Lulu and Grace were unusually gay and mirthful, and their father indulged them in more than usual chat and laughter that were neither rude nor boisterous.

Neither he nor Violet said anything of the new plans for the winter till the babies had had their evening romp and been taken away to bed. Violet, as usual, went with them, and the captain was left alone with Lulu and Grace.

They were hanging lovingly about him as was their custom on such occasions, and he drew one to each knee, saying in low, tender tones, "My darlings! my precious little daughters! How rich I feel in the possession of my five dear children!"

"And how rich we feel with our dear, dear father! to say nothing of our dear, sweet Mamma Vi and the two darling babies!" responded Lulu, putting her arm about his neck and her lips to his.

"Yes; and our dear big brother Maxie," added Grace.

"Yes, I was just going to mention him," said Lulu. "I am both very fond and very proud of Max. I wouldn't swap him for any other body's brother that ever I saw; no not even for all the nice brothers that Rosie has."

"Neither would I," said Grace, "though I'm fond of them all."

"Papa, when is it that we are going to see Max?" queried Lulu. "Some time in January I know you said, but will it be to spend New Year's with him?"

"No; wouldn't you like to go sooner than that?" he asked, stroking her hair and looking down lovingly, smilingly into her eyes.

"Oh, yes, indeed, papa! if it suits you to go and to take me," she answered eagerly. "It seems now a long, long while that I have been separated from Max, and the sooner I may go to see him the better. But have you changed your plans about it?"

"Yes," he replied. "I have something to tell you both which will show you why, and also prove pleasant news to you, I think."

Then he proceeded to tell them of the plans laid that afternoon at Ion, and which made it necessary that, if he went to see Max at all that winter, he must do so before the end of the week already begun.

His news that their winter was to be spent at Viamede was hailed with delight by both the little girls.

"I am so glad!" cried Grace, clapping her hands and smiling all over her face.

"I, too," exclaimed Lulu. "Viamede is so, so beautiful, and to have you there with us, you dear papa, will make us—me any way—enjoy it at least twice as much as I did before."

"Me too," said Grace; "the happiest place for me is always where my own dear father is with me," hugging him tight and kissing him again and again.

"My darling! my precious darlings!" the captain said in response and caressing them in turn.

"I'm so sorry for poor Maxie," remarked Grace presently, "that he can't see you every day, papa, as we do, and be kissed and hugged as we are; and that he can't go to Viamede with the rest of us." She finished with a heavy sigh.

"Yes," her father said, "I am sorry for him, and for ourselves, that he is not to be with us. But my dear boy is happy where he is, and I in the thought that he is preparing himself to do good service to our country; to be a valuable and useful citizen."

"And we are all ever so proud of him—our dear Maxie; but I'm glad I am not a boy. Women can be very useful in the world too, can't they, papa?"

"Yes; yes, indeed, my darlings; the world couldn't go on without women, any more than without men; both are necessary, and the one sex to be as much honored as the other, and I hope and trust my daughters will all grow up to be noble, true-hearted, useful women, always trying to do earnestly and faithfully the work God has given them to do."

"I hope so, indeed, papa!" responded Lulu in an earnest, thoughtful tone; "if I know my own heart I do want to be a very useful woman when I'm grown up—a useful girl now—serving God with all my might; but oh, I do so easily forget and go wrong!"

"Yet I can see very plainly that my dear little girl is improving," her father said, softly smoothing her hair with his hand, "and I'm sure—for the Bible tells us so—that if you fight on, looking to God for help, you will come off conqueror and more than conqueror in the end."

"Yes, papa; oh, I am so glad the Bible says that!"

There was a moment's silence; then Grace said, with a sigh and a voice full of tears, "Oh, I do so wish I could see Maxie before we go so far away from him! Papa, wouldn't they let him come home for just a little while?"

"No, daughter; but how would you like to go with Lulu and me to pay him a little visit?"

"O papa! so much if—if you think I won't be too tired to go on to Viamede so soon afterward."

"I really think you could stand the two journeys, coming so near together, now that you are so much stronger than you used to be; and as you can lie and rest in the cars, and we go by water from New Orleans. Don't you feel as if you could?"

"Oh, yes, papa, I feel almost sure I could!" she cried joyously.

"Then we will try it," he said, fondling her; "you will have no packing to do—I am sure Mamma Vi and Lulu will be pleased to attend to all that for you—and the journey to Annapolis is not a very long or fatiguing one. So, should nothing happen to prevent, you shall make one of our little party to visit Max."

Grace's eyes shone with pleasure and Lulu exclaimed delightedly, "Oh, I am so glad, Gracie! It will double my pleasure to have you along; and you needn't worry one bit about your packing of clothes or playthings, for I'm sure I can see to it all with Christine or Alma to help me; or even if I should have to do it all myself."

"Oh, thank you, Lu!" exclaimed Grace, "you are just the very best sister that ever I saw! Isn't she, papa?"

"I think her a very good and kind sister, and it makes me a proud and happy father to be able to give her that commendation," he answered, with a loving look down into the eyes of his eldest daughter.

Just then Violet re-entered the room and a merry, happy hour followed, while plans and prospects were under discussion.

"Won't you excuse Gracie and me from lessons the rest of the time before we start for Viamede, papa?" asked Lulu coaxingly.

"No, daughter," replied the captain, in a pleasant tone; "there is very little either of you will be called upon to do in regard to the preparations for our southward flitting, so no occasion for you to miss lessons for so many days. Of course you cannot study on the boats and cars, at least I shall not ask it of you, and when we get to Viamede you will be glad of a little holiday to rest and run about, seeing everything that is to be seen; and all that will cause quite sufficient loss of time from your lessons."

"Oh, dear," sighed Lulu, "I think it must be ever so nice to be grown up and not have any lessons to learn."

"Ah, Lu," laughed Violet, "I am not so sure that grown up folks have no lessons to learn; in fact I begin to have an idea that their lessons are not seldom more trying and wearisome than those of the children."

"Yes, Mamma Vi," responded Lulu, with a blush, "and I'm sorry and ashamed of my grumbling. Papa, I'm just determined I will be good and do cheerfully whatever you bid me; I have always, always found your way the very best in the end."

"Why, yes, Lu; of course papa always knows far better than we do what is best for us," said Grace, leaning lovingly up against him and smiling up into his face.

"Papa is very happy in having such loving, trustful little daughters," he said, passing his hand caressingly over Gracie's golden curls.



CHAPTER XVI.

It was a most joyful surprise to Max when, on the following Saturday, his father and sisters walked in upon him, as he left the dinner table full of life and pleasure at the thought of the half holiday that had just begun.

His standing and conduct had been such that he was entitled to leave, and to be able to spend it with these dear ones was most delightful.

A carriage had brought the captain and his little girls to the door, and they—father and children—took a long drive together, during which the tongues of Max and Lulu ran very fast.

She and Gracie thoroughly enjoyed Max's surprise on learning of the plans for the winter, so soon to be carried out.

At first he seemed to feel rather badly at the thought that they would all be so far away from him; but he presently got over that, as his father spoke of the letters he would receive from Viamede every day, and how quickly the winter would pass and all be coming home again, some of them—certainly himself—making haste to pay a visit to the Academy to see their young cadet and learn what progress he was making in preparing for future duty in the naval service of his country.

At that Max's face brightened and he said heartily, "And I shall try my best to have as good a report as possible ready for you, papa, that you may be proud and happy in your first-born son. Ah, the thought of that does help me to study hard and try very, very earnestly to keep rules, so that I may be an honor, and not a disgrace to the best of fathers."

"Yes, I am sure of it, my dear boy," the captain replied, laying his hand on the lad's shoulder, while the light of fatherly love and pride shone in his eyes; "I haven't a doubt that it is one of my son's greatest pleasures to make himself the joy and pride of his father's heart."

They drove back to the Academy just in time for Max to be ready to report himself at evening roll-call, according to the rules, with which no one was better acquainted than the captain.

He and the little girls were to start on their return journey that evening, and good-by was said at the Academy door.

A very hard one it seemed to the little girls, hardly less so to Max and his father. The captain and his daughters went by boat, as less fatiguing for Grace, and reached home on Monday.

The next day was a busy one to all, and Wednesday noon saw them on the cars, bound for New Orleans.

A day and night were spent in the city, then they took the steamer for Berwick Bay.

The morning was clear and bright and the captain, Violet, and the children all sat upon deck, greatly enjoying the breeze and the dancing of the waves in the sunlight, as the vessel cleared its port and steamed out into the gulf.

"Oh, it is so pleasant here!" exclaimed Grace; "just like summer. And see the beautiful rainbow in the water that the wheel throws up!"

"Oh, yes; so pretty, oh, so pretty!" cried little Elsie, clapping her hands in delight.

"Oh, so pitty!" echoed baby Ned.

"Take care, little ones; I fear you may fall overboard," warned the captain. "Come and sit on papa's knee, and perhaps mamma will kindly tell us of all the lovely things we will see at Viamede."

They obeyed and were charmed with mamma's story of what she had done and seen at Viamede when she was a little girl, and of dear grandma being once a baby girl in the very same house, and how dearly all the old servants loved her, and how they mourned when she was taken away to live with her grandpa at Roseland.

The babies and even the older folks, not excepting papa himself, seemed deeply interested, and more delighted than before that they were so soon to see Viamede.

At length Ned fell asleep, Elsie presently followed his example, and older people were left to the quiet enjoyment of the lovely scenes through which they were passing; for they had now entered Teche Bayou, and from that pressed on, threading the way through lake and lakelet, past plantation and swamp, plain and forest, coming upon cool, shady dells carpeted with a rich growth of velvety grass, and flowers of varied hue, and shaded by magnificent trees, oaks and magnolias; while amid groves of orange trees they could see lordly villas, tall white sugar-houses and rows of cabins where the negro laborers dwelt.

"A beautiful, beautiful country," remarked the captain, breaking a prolonged silence.

"Quite up to your expectations, my dear?" queried Violet, glancing up at him, her eyes shining with pleasure.

"I believe it rather exceeds them," he replied, "it is very, very lovely! an earthly paradise, so far as beauty can make it such."

"Papa, do you suppose you will know which is Viamede when you see it?" queried Lulu.

"I very much doubt it, daughter," he answered.

"Yes, sir; there it is, just coming into sight; the sugar-house, at least, and yonder, a little beyond, is the great orange orchard."

"And it's just beautiful!" cried Grace. "See, papa, the orange trees, with their beautiful, glossy leaves and ripe and green fruit, and flowers all on them at once."

"And presently we will come to the beautiful lawn, with its giant oaks, magnolia trees, velvety grass and lovely flowers," exclaimed Lulu. "Oh, I am so much obliged to dear Grandma Elsie, for inviting us all to spend the winter here again!"

"Yes, it was very kind," her father said, "and I hope my children will do nothing to mar the peace of the household, and so distress Mamma Vi's dear mother."

"I do intend to be a very good girl, papa, and if I begin to be the least bit bad, I do hope you'll stop it at once by punishing me well and making me behave myself," Lulu said, in a low, earnest tone, speaking close to his ear.

"Dear child," he returned, in the same low key in which she had spoken, "I have not the least doubt that you intend to be and do all I could ask or wish."

There was no time for anything more just then, for, as they were nearing their destination, baggage must be seen to and satchels and parcels gathered up.

Presently the boat rounded to at the wharf and in another minute greetings and embraces were being exchanged with the cousins, who, having been duly informed of the intended arrival, were gathered there to give a cordial and delighted welcome to Violet, her husband, and children.

There were servants also, some few of the old and some new ones, each and all eager for a handshake and a few words of greeting from "Miss Wi'let and the cap'en and dere chillens," in which they were not disappointed.

In a few moments the baggage had been landed and was being taken to the house, while ladies, gentlemen, and children followed, the newly arrived gazing, delighted, about upon the beauties of the place, the others asking many questions concerning Grandma Elsie and those of her family left behind—how they were in health, and when they would come to Viamede.

"You will find the house in very tolerable order, I think, Vi," remarked Mrs. Keith, "though doubtless many little repairs and improvements needed, that Cousin Elsie may find everything in order when she comes. It was a good idea to get you and the captain to come a little in advance of the older folk and have everything in order for their reception."

"I think so," Violet said with a smile, "and that no better person than my honored husband could have been found to undertake that task."

"No more trustworthy one, I am sure, judging from his looks," returned Isa. "I am delighted with his appearance, Vi; he is as noble-looking a man as ever I saw."

Violet flushed with pleasure. "And he is all that he appears to be, Isa," she said; "the better he is known the more highly is he esteemed."

A bountiful supper had been prepared for the travelers, and the others stayed and partook with them, but soon after leaving the table bade good-night and went to their own homes.

Then Violet took her sleepy little ones upstairs to see them to bed, leaving the captain, Lulu, and Grace on the veranda.

As usual, the two were hanging lovingly about their father, he seeming to enjoy it as much as they.

It was a beautiful moonlight night, warm, and sweet with the breath of flowers; away in the distance, beyond the wide-spreading lawn, they could see the waters of the bayou glittering in the moonbeams, and the soft plash of oars came pleasantly to their ears.

"Oh, isn't it just lovely, here!" exclaimed Lulu, breaking a momentary silence. "Papa, did I exaggerate in telling you of the beauties of the place?"

"No, I think not," he replied; "it is certainly very lovely, and I hope we are going to have a happy winter here."

"I'm sure we will; I'm happy anywhere with you, my dear, dear papa," said Grace, putting an arm round his neck and pressing her lips to his cheek.

"So am I," said Lulu, "unless I have been doing wrong, and papa is displeased with me. Oh, I do mean to try my very hardest to be good! and I'm sure it will be ever so much easier with you for my tutor, dear papa, than it was before, going to that horrid school and having to take music lessons from that Signor Foresti, who was so ill-tempered and struck me, when I was trying as hard as I could to play my piece just right."

"Yes, daughter, I think it will be easier for you with the tutor who loves you and is loved by you," assented the captain, drawing her into a close, loving embrace. "We must see if a music teacher is to be had here, but certainly will not try Signor Foresti again."

"Oh, I am glad to hear you say that, papa! though I never thought you would send me back to him again. I am, oh, so glad I belong to you instead of to—anybody else."

"So am I," he responded, with a happy little laugh.

"And that I do too, papa?" asked Grace, in a half-pleading tone.

"Yes, yes, my own darling," he said, addressing her with great tenderness. "You are no less dear than your sister."

"How good in you, papa! for I'm not half so bright or pretty as Lu," she said, patting his cheek with her small white hand.

"Why, Gracie!" exclaimed Lulu, "whatever put such a thing as that into your head? You are far prettier, and better too, than I am. Isn't she, papa?"

"You must not ask me such hard questions," he returned laughingly, and hugging them both up in his arms, "I really could not say that either one is prettier or dearer to me than the other, or that I love either more or less than I do each of the other three. The love differs somewhat in kind, but, I think, not in intensity."

"Yes, papa, I suppose so," returned Lulu thoughtfully; "for instance you must have quite a different sort of love for Max, who is almost old enough to take care of himself, and baby Ned who is so very young and helpless."

Violet joined them at that moment, reported the babies as fast asleep in the nursery, and consulted her husband as to what rooms they should occupy during their stay; saying her mother had kindly bade them please themselves in regard to that matter.

"Choose for yourself, my dear," replied the captain, "and I shall be entirely satisfied; only I should like to have these children close at hand—a door of communication between their room, or rooms, and ours, if that can be easily managed. We must be near the babies of course."

"Yes, indeed! Near every one of our four," returned Violet brightly; "I could not be easy otherwise, any more than their father.

"But suppose I take you over the house, if you are not too tired. To-morrow, you remember, is Sunday, and I could hardly wait till Monday, to say nothing of the curiosity that must of course be consuming you."

"Of course," returned the captain laughingly, as he rose and gave her his arm; "it will give me great pleasure to accompany you, if you are not too weary for such exertion."

"Not a bit," she said; "the trip on the boat was more restful than fatiguing; at least so far as concerned myself. May not Lulu and Gracie come too?"

"If they wish; though I fear Gracie is too tired," he said, with an inquiring glance at her. "If you would like to go, pet, papa will carry you up the stairs."

"Oh, then, I would like to, papa; I'm not so very tired," she answered eagerly.

"Then of course Lulu is not?" he said with a smiling glance at his eldest daughter.

"No, indeed, papa; and I'd dearly love to go along," she answered, taking Gracie's hand and with her tripping along in the rear, as he and Violet passed on into the wide hall.

They first inspected the rooms on the lower floor, lingering longest in the drawing-room, where the many beautiful paintings and pieces of statuary were very attractive.

"We cannot give them half enough time to-night," remarked Violet, "but fortunately have good reason to hope for many opportunities for future inspection."

"Yes," the captain said, glancing at Grace, then at his watch. "Shall we not call in the servants and have prayers before going upstairs? It is not far from the usual time, and I see Gracie is growing weary."

Violet gave a ready assent and led the way to the family parlor where her grandfather had been wont to hold that service.

The servants were summoned and came in looking well pleased. The captain made the service short out of consideration for Gracie's weariness, though, indeed, he never thought it well to lengthen it so much as to risk making it a weariness to either children or servants.

A few directions in regard to securing doors and windows for the night and as to what should be done for the comfort of the family in the morning, then he, Violet, and the little girls, having exchanged kindly good-nights with the servants, went on up the broad stairway, the captain, according to promise, carrying Grace in his arms.

Only a hasty survey of the upper rooms was taken that night, for all began to feel the need of rest and sleep. Apartments connected with each other and the nursery were selected for occupation, and soon all were resting peacefully in their beds.



CHAPTER XVII.

The Sabbath morning dawned bright and clear. Lulu rose with the sun and, before he was an hour high, was down on the veranda, gazing with delight upon the lovely landscape spread out at her feet.

So absorbed in its beauties was she that she failed to hear an approaching footstep, and was aware of her father's presence only when he laid a hand gently on her head and, bending down, imprinted a kiss on her lips.

"An early bird as usual, my darling!" he said.

"Yes, sir, like my father, my dear, dear father," she returned, twining her arms around his neck and holding him fast for a moment.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked, releasing himself and taking her hand in his.

"Oh, yes, indeed, papa! Did not you?"

"I did; I think we all did," he answered. "God has been very good to us. And what a lovely, lovely Sunday morning it is!"

"We can all go to church, can't we, papa?" she asked.

"I think so," he said. "And now you would like to walk down across the lawn, to the water's edge, with me?"

"Oh, yes, indeed, papa," she cried delightedly. "It was just what I was wanting to do."

"It might be well for you to have a bit of something to eat first," he said. "Ah, here is just the thing!" as a servant approached with a waiter on which were some oranges prepared for eating in the way Grandma Elsie had enjoyed them in her young days.

"Thank you, Aunt Sally," the captain said, helping Lulu and himself; "you could have brought us nothing more tempting and delicious. Will you please carry some up to my wife?"

"Ise done it already, sah," replied the woman, smiling all over her face, and dropping a courtesy; "yes, sah; an' she say dey's mighty nice, jes like she hab when she's heah in dis place yeahs ago."

"Papa," remarked Lulu, as they presently crossed the lawn together, "I'm so glad to be here again, and with you. It was a delightful place the other time, I thought, but, oh, it seems twice as pleasant now, because my dear father is with us!" and she lifted her eyes to his face with a look of ardent affection.

"Dear child, it is a great pleasure to me to be with you and the rest," he returned, pressing affectionately the little hand he held in his, "and if you do not have a happier time than you had here before, it shall not be because your father does not try to make it so.

"But, my dear little daughter, remember you have the same spiritual foes to fight here as in other places. If you would be happy you must try to live very near to Jesus and to watch and pray lest you enter into temptation. Particularly must you be ever on your guard against that quick temper which has so often got you into trouble."

"Papa, I do intend to," she said, with a sigh; "and I am very glad I shall have you close at hand all the time to help me in the fight; for you do help me, oh, so often—so much, dear papa!" and again she lifted loving eyes to his face.

"I am very thankful that I can, my darling," he returned. "I feel that God has been very good to me in so changing my circumstances that I can be with you almost constantly to aid you in the hard task of learning to control the fiery temper inherited from me. Yet, as I have often told you, dear child, the hardest part of the fight must inevitably be your own, and only by the help of him who has all power in heaven and in earth can you conquer at last.

"I want you to feel that in your inmost soul, and to beware of self-confidence, which was, I think, the cause of your sad failure of a few weeks ago."

"Yes, papa," she said humbly, "I believe I had begun to feel that I was quite reformed, so did not watch and pray as constantly as I used to, and then almost before I knew it I was in a passion with poor Alma."

"'When I am weak, then am I strong!' the apostle says," returned her father; "that is when we feel our weakness and trust in the strength of our Almighty Saviour; of him who has said, 'In me is thine help.' It is help, daughter, which is never refused to those who look humbly to Jesus for it."

"I am so glad the Bible tells us that," she said.

They walked on in silence for a little, then Lulu said, "Papa, I asked Cousin Molly last night if Professor Manton still had his school at Oakdale. She said, 'Yes, is your papa going to send you there?' and I was so glad I could answer, 'No, ma'am; he is going to teach me himself.' Then Cousin Molly said, 'Oh, is he? I am sure that will be far pleasanter for you, dear. The professor is not very popular, and I hear that his school grows smaller.'"

"Ah, then, don't you think it would be only kind in me to put my eldest daughter there as a pupil?" asked the captain jestingly.

"Not to me, papa, I am sure," she answered, lifting to his smiling eyes that said as plainly as any words could have spoken that she had no fear that he would do any such thing.

"No; and I do not know what could induce me to do so," he returned. "So you need never ask it, but must try to content yourself with the tutor who has had charge of your education ever since Woodburn became our home."

"I don't need to try, papa," she said with a happy laugh; "for it's just as easy as anything. Gracie and I both think there was never such a dear, kind teacher as ours. Neither of us wants ever to have any other."

"Ah! then we are mutually pleased. And now I think we should turn and go back to the house, for it must be near the breakfast hour." They found Violet, Grace, and the little ones on the veranda, awaiting their coming, and breakfast ready to be served.

Morning greetings were exchanged and all repaired to the breakfast room.

The meal proved a dainty one, was daintily served and enlivened by cheerful chat on such themes as were not unsuited to the sacredness of the day.

Family worship followed, and soon after the family carriage was at the door ready to convey them to the church of which their Cousin Cyril was pastor.

The captain, Violet, and the two little girls, Lulu and Grace, formed the deputation from that family, the two babies remaining at home in the care of their nurse, whom they had brought with them from Woodburn.

Cyril gave them an excellent sermon, and at the close of the exercises conducted a Bible class attended by nearly every one belonging to the congregation.

The Viamede family remained to its close, held a little pleasant talk with the relatives from the parsonage and Magnolia Hall, then drove back to Viamede, reaching there just in time for dinner.

In the afternoon the captain gathered his family and the servants under the trees in the lawn, read and expounded a portion of scripture, and led them in prayer and the singing of several familiar hymns.

The evening was spent much as it would have been at Woodburn, and all retired early to rest.

Monday morning found them all in good health and spirits, entirely recovered from the fatigues of the journey and ready for work or play.

"We don't have to learn and recite lessons to-day, papa, do we?" asked Lulu, at the breakfast table. "I think you said we could have a day or two for play first, didn't you?"

"Yes; but I shall give you your choice of having that playtime now or taking it about a week hence, when you will have Rosie and Walter with you."

"May I choose too, papa?" asked Grace.

"Yes."

"Then I choose to wait for my holiday till the others are here to share it with us; for don't you suppose Grandma Elsie will let them, papa?"

"No doubt of it," he replied. "And what is your choice, Lulu?"

"The same as Gracie's, papa," she answered in bright cheerful tones. "Lessons are not bad to take, with you for my teacher," she added laughingly, "and will leave us a good deal of time for running about and looking at everything."

"Besides an occasional drive or walk with mamma and papa," he supplemented, with an approving smile, adding, "the lessons shall not be long or hard to-day, so that you will still have some time for roaming about the grounds; and perhaps, if my pupils are very deserving, there may be a row on the bayou after dinner."

"Oh, how delightful, papa!" they cried, in a breath.

"I am glad you think so," he said, smiling on them; "there is nothing I enjoy more than giving pleasure to my wife and children," with an affectionate glance at Violet. "I hope such a little excursion will afford you pleasure, my dear?"

"Yes," she returned gayly, "I think even the children will hardly enjoy it more than I; and," she added laughingly, "I shall endeavor to earn my right to it by faithfully attending to housekeeping matters in the meantime."

"I don't believe there is any schoolroom here!" exclaimed Grace, as if struck with a sudden thought.

"We will have to select one and get it ready before the others come," said Violet.

"And for the present my dressing-room will answer very well," added the captain.

So thither the children repaired at the usual hour for beginning their studies.

It was at first a little difficult to fix their attention upon them, but with an earnest desire to do right, and to please their dear father, they made very determined efforts, and had their lessons well prepared by the time he came to hear them.

It seemed to afford him pleasure to give the deserved meed of praise, and the young faces grew bright and gladsome under it. An hour was then given to writing and ciphering, and they were dismissed for the day.

"May we go out into the grounds now, papa?" asked Lulu, as she put up her books.

"Yes," he replied, "but keep near the house for the present, for it is near dinner-time now."

"We will, papa," both little girls answered and hurried away.

They sported about the lawn till summoned to the house by the dinner-bell, whose call they obeyed with alacrity, air and exercise having given them good appetites.

"My dear," the captain said to his wife, near the conclusion of the meal, "you have had a busy morning, can you not afford to devote the afternoon to recreation?"

"Certainly, if you will share it," she replied. "Are we not to have that row on the bayou?"

"It is what I had planned, should my wife still feel inclined to go," he said.

"Ah! that will be very enjoyable I think; and perhaps there may be time afterward for me to drive over to the parsonage. I want a bit of chat with Isa about some household matters."

"Yes, I think you may have time for both," he returned. "An hour on the bayou will be sufficient for this first time; the carriage can be ordered to be in waiting when we return, and you, if the plan suits your views, can drive over to the parsonage at once, have your talk, and be at home again in season to pour out your husband's tea."

"That will do nicely, thank you, sir," she returned gayly. "I see I am not likely to lack for diversion with you at the head of affairs, so I think I shall try to keep you there as long as possible."

"I hope you will, Mamma Vi," said Lulu, "And any way I'm glad that when papa is about, he is the one that has control of me."

"So I have at least one willing subject," remarked the captain, looking not ill-pleased.

"Two, papa," said Grace, "you can always count on me for one."

"I don't doubt it in the least, dear child," he said. "And now, as I see you have all finished your dinner, and the boat is at the wharf, let us be going."

In a few minutes all were seated in the boat, and it was moving rapidly over the water, the children very merry, the parents by no means disposed to check the manifestations of their mirth.

They found the carriage in waiting when they landed.

"You are going with us, Levis?" Violet said inquiringly, as the captain handed her in.

"I should be pleased to do so, my dear, but have too many business letters calling for immediate reply," he said, lifting little Ned, and then Elsie, to a place by her side. "Lulu and Gracie, you would like to go with your mamma?"

"Yes, sir, if I may," Grace answered with alacrity, but Lulu declined, saying: "I would much rather stay with you, papa, if I may."

"Certainly, dear child; I shall be glad to have you," he said with a pleased look; "but I fear you will find it dull, as I shall be too busy to talk to you, or let you talk to me."

"But I can be with you, and perhaps of some use waiting on you, papa."

"Perhaps so," he said. "You generally contrive to make yourself useful to your father in one way or another."

Then the carriage drove on, Lulu slipped her hand into his, and together they walked back to the house.

"I do hope I can find something to do that will be a help to you, papa," she said, as they entered the library.

"I verily believe my dear eldest daughter would like to carry all her father's burdens if she could," he said, laying his hand caressingly on her head, "but it wouldn't be good for me, my darling, to have my life made too easy."

"I am sure it wouldn't hurt you, papa, and I only wish I could carry all your burdens," she replied, with an ardently affectionate look up into his face. "Isn't there something I can do now?"

"Yes," he replied, glancing at the table; "here are papers, magazines, and letters, quite a pile. You may cut leaves and open envelopes for me, that will save me some time and exertion—be quite a help."

"Yes, sir; I'll be glad to do it all. But, oh, papa," and a bright, eager look came into her face.

"Well, daughter, what is it?" as she paused half breathless with her new idea.

"Papa, couldn't I write some of the letters for you? Here is my typewriter that you so kindly let me bring along. I've learned to write pretty fast on it, you know, and wouldn't it be easier for you just to tell me the words you want said and let me put them down, than to do it all yourself with either it or your pen?"

"That is a bright thought, daughter," he said, patting her cheek, and smiling down upon her. "I dare say that plan would shorten my work considerably."

"Oh, I shall be so glad if it does, papa!" she exclaimed. "There is nothing in the world I'd enjoy more than finding myself a real help and comfort to you."

"I have found you both many a time, daughter," he responded, taking up and opening a letter as he spoke, while she picked up a paper cutter and fell zealously to work opening envelopes, laying each one close to his hand as she had it ready.

"Now, you may get your typewriter ready for work," he said presently. "Put in a sheet of this paper," taking some from a drawer in the table and laying it beside the machine, "date it, and in a moment I will tell you what to say."