"Cousin Ronald, can't you make some fun for us?" asked Ned at the breakfast table the next morning. "We haven't had any of your kind since we came here."
"Well, and what of that, youngster? must you live on fun all the time?" asked a rough voice directly behind the little boy.
"Oh! who are you? and how did you come in here?" he asked, turning half round in his chair, in the effort to see the speaker. "Oh, pshaw! you're nobody. Was it you, Cousin Ronald? or was it brother Max?"
"Polite little boys do not call gentlemen nobodies," remarked another voice that seemed to come from a distant corner of the room.
"And I didn't mean to," said Ned, "but the things I want to say will twist up, somehow."
"That bird you are eating looks good," said the same voice; "couldn't you spare me a leg?"
"Oh, yes," laughed Ned, "if you'll come and get it. But one of these little legs wouldn't be much more than a bite for you."
"Well, a bite would be better than no breakfast at all; and somebody might give me one of those nice-looking rolls."
"I'm sure of it if you'll come to the table and show yourself," replied Ned.
"Here I am then," said the voice close at his side.
"Oh, are you?" returned Ned. "Well, help yourself. You can have anything you choose to take."
"Now, Ned, do you call that polite?" laughed Lucilla. "As you invited him to the table you surely ought to help him to what he has asked for."
At that Ned looked scrutinizingly at Cousin Ronald's plate, then at his brother's, and seeing that both were well filled remarked, "I see he's well helped already and oughtn't to be asking for more till he gets that eaten up."
"Oh, you know too much, young man," laughed Max. "It isn't worth while for Cousin Ronald and me to waste our talents upon you."
"Oh, yes, it is, Brother Max," said the little fellow, "for it's fun, even though I do know it's one or the other or both of you."
"Oh, Cousin Ronald," exclaimed Elsie, "can't you make some fun at the wedding, as you did when Cousin Betty was married? I don't remember much of it myself, but I've heard other folks tell about it."
"Why not ask Max instead of me?" queried Mr. Lilburn.
"Oh!" cried the little girl, "I'd like to have both of you do it. It's more fun with two than with only one."
"And it might be well to consult cousins Maud and Dick about it," suggested Grandma Elsie. "You can do so to-day, as we are all invited to take lunch at Torriswood."
"Are we? oh, that's nice!" exclaimed Elsie, smiling brightly. "You will let us go, papa, won't you?"
"Yes; I expect to take you there."
"And if we all go Cousin Ronald and Max might make some fun for us there. I guess the Torriswood folks would like it," remarked Ned insinuatingly.
"But might not you grow tired—having so much of it?" asked Max.
"No, indeed!" cried the little fellow. "It's too much fun for anybody to get tired of it."
"Any little chap like you, perhaps," remarked the strange voice from the distant corner.
"Pooh! I'm not so very little now," returned Ned.
"Not too little to talk a good deal," laughed Grandpa Dinsmore.
"This is a lovely morning," remarked Dr. Harold, "the roads are in fine condition too, and I think the distance to Torriswood is not too great to make a very pleasant walk for those of us who are young and strong."
"And there are riding horses and conveyances in plenty for any who prefer to use them," added his mother.
Evelyn, Lucilla, and Max all expressed their desire to try the walk, and Grace said, "I should like to try it too;" but both her father and Dr. Harold put a veto upon that, saying she was not strong enough, so must be content to ride.
"Cousin Ronald and brother Max, can't we have some fun there to-day, as well as at the wedding time?" said Ned in his most coaxing tones.
"Possibly, bit laddie," returned the old gentleman pleasantly. "If I am not too auld, your good brother is no' too young."
"But you are the more expert of the two, sir," said Max; "and perhaps it may be the better plan for us both to take part."
"Ah, well, we'll see when the time comes," responded the old gentleman. "I like well to please the bit laddie, if it can be done without vexing or disturbing anybody else."
"I don't think it can do that," observed Ned wisely, "for it's good fun and everybody likes fun. Even my papa does," he added with a smiling glance up into his father's face.
"Yes; when it does not annoy or weary anyone else," the captain said in return.
"Will Chester be over here this morning, Lu?" asked Violet.
"He expected to when he went away last night," was the reply. "But possibly he may not come if he hears that we are to go there."
"I think he is too much a man of his word to be hindered by that," her father said, giving her a reassuring smile.
And he was right, for Chester was with them even a little earlier than usual.
"Maud told me you were all coming over to lunch with her," he said, "but as some of you have never seen the place, I thought you might not object to a pilot, and the exercise would be rather beneficial to me."
"You are right there," said Harold. "You know that as your physician I have prescribed a good deal of outdoor exercise."
"Yes; I have been taking the prescription, too, and I find it beneficial; especially when I am so fortunate as to secure pleasant company." His glance at Lucilla as he spoke seemed to imply that there was none more desirable than hers.
"Then, as the walk is a long one, I would suggest that we start as soon as may suit the convenience of the ladies," said Harold, and Evelyn and Lucilla hastened to make such preparation as they deemed necessary or desirable.
The Parsonage was scarce a stone's throw out of their path and they called there on their way. They owed Isadore a call and were willing to make one upon her sister Virginia also—now making her home at the Parsonage—though she had not as yet called upon them.
They found both ladies upon the veranda. Isadore gave them a joyful welcome, Virginia a cool one, saying, "I should have called upon you before now, but I know poor relations are not apt to prove welcome visitors."
"But I had thought you were making your home at Viamede," said Dr.Harold.
"No; not since Dick and Bob removed to Torriswood. I couldn't think of living on there alone; so came here to Isa, she being my nearest of kin in this part of the world."
Harold thought he did not envy Isa on that account, but prudently refrained from saying so.
Isa invited them to stay and spend the day there, but they declined, stating that they were on their way to Torriswood by invitation.
"Yes," said Virginia; "they can invite rich relations but entirely neglect poor me."
"Why, Virgie," exclaimed Isadore in surprise, "I am sure you have been invited there more than once since you have been here."
"Well, I knew it was only a duty invitation and they didn't really want me; so I didn't go. I have a little more sense than to impose my company upon people who don't really want it."
"I shouldn't think anybody would while you show such an ugly temper," thought Lucilla, but refrained from saying it. She and her companions made but a short call, presently bade good-by and continued on their way to Torriswood.
They received a warm welcome there and were presently joined by the rest of their party from Viamede. There was some lively and animated chat in regard to letters sent and letters received, the making of the wedding dress and various other preparations for the coming ceremony, to all of which little Ned listened rather impatiently; then, as soon as a pause in the conversation gave him an opportunity, he turned to Dr. Percival, saying, "Cousin Dick, wouldn't it be right nice to have a little fun?"
"Fun, Neddie? Why, certainly, my boy; fun is often quite beneficial to the health. But how shall we manage it? have you a good joke for us?"
"No, sir," said Ned, "but you know we have two ventriloquists here and—and I like the kind of fun they make. Don't you?"
"It is certainly very amusing sometimes, and I see no objection if our friends are willing to favor us with some specimens of their skill," was the reply, accompanied by a glance first at Mr. Milburn, then at Max.
"Oh!" exclaimed Maud, "that might be a good entertainment for our wedding guests!"
"Probably," returned her husband, "but if it is to be used then it would be well not to let our servants into the secret beforehand."
"Decidedly so, I should say," said Max. "It would be better to reserve that entertainment for that time."
"But surely it would do no harm to give us a few examples of your skill to-day, when the servants are out of the room," said Maud.
"No, certainly not, if anything worth while could be thought of," said Max; "but it seems to me that it must be quite an old story with all of us here."
"Not to me, brother Max," exclaimed Ned. "And the funny things you and Cousin Ronald seem to make invisible folks say make other people laugh as well as me."
"And laughter is helpful to digestion," said a strange voice, apparently speaking from the doorway. "But should folks digest too well these doctors might find very little to do. So it is not to be wondered at if they object to letting much fun be made."
"But the doctors haven't objected," laughed Dr. Percival, "and I have no fear that work for them will fail even if some of their patients should laugh and grow fat."
"I presume that's what the little fellow that wants the fun has been doing," said the voice; "for as regards fat he is in prime condition."
At that Ned colored and looked slightly vexed. "Papa, am I so very fat?" he asked.
"None too fat to suit my taste, my son," replied the captain, smiling kindly on the little fellow.
"And you wouldn't want to be a bag of bones, would you?" queried the voice.
"No," returned Ned sturdily, "I'd a great deal rather be fat; bones are ugly things any way."
"Good to cover up with fat, but very necessary underneath it," said the voice. "You couldn't stand or walk if you had no bones."
"No; to be sure not; though I never thought about it before," returned Ned. "Some ugly things are worth more, after all, than some pretty ones."
"Very true," said the voice; "so we must not despise anything merely because it lacks beauty."
"Is it you talking, Cousin Ronald, or is it brother Max?" asked Ned, looking searchingly first at one and then at the other.
"No matter which, laddie," said the old gentleman; "and who shall say it hasn't been both of us?"
"Oh, yes, maybe it was! I couldn't tell," exclaimed Ned.
But lunch was now ready and all repaired to the table. The blessing had been asked and all were sitting quietly as Dr. Percival took up a knife to carve a fowl. "Don't, oh, don't!" seemed to come from it in a terrified scream. "I'm all right. No need of a surgeon's knife."
Everyone was startled for an instant, the doctor nearly dropping his knife; then there was a general laugh and the carving proceeded without further objection. The servants were all out of the room at the moment.
"Ah, Cousin Ronald, that reminds me of very old times, when I was a little child," said Violet, giving the old gentleman a mirthful look.
"Ah, yes!" he said, "I remember now that I was near depriving you of your share of the fowl when breakfasting one morning at your father's hospitable board. Have you not yet forgiven that act of indiscretion?"
"Indeed, yes; fully and freely long ago. But it was really nothing to forgive—your intention having been to afford amusement to us all."
"Neddie, shall I help you? are you willing to eat of a fowl that can scream out so much like a human creature?" asked Dr. Percival.
"Oh, yes, Cousin Doctor; 'cause I know just how he did it," laughed the little boy.
Then the talk about the table turned upon various matters connected with the subject of the approaching wedding—whether this or that relative would be likely to come; when he or she might be expected to arrive, and where be entertained; the adornment of the grounds for the occasion; the fashion in which each of the brides's new dresses should be made and what jewelry, if any, she should wear when dressed for the ceremony. Also about a maid of honor and bridesmaids.
"I want to have two or three little flower girls," said Sidney; "and I have thought of Elsie Dinsmore, Elsie Embury, and Elsie Raymond as the ones I should prefer; they are near enough of an age, all related to me and all quite pretty; at least they will look so when handsomely dressed," she added with a laughing look at the one present, who blushed and seemed slightly embarrassed for a moment, but said not a word.
"I highly approve if we can get the other two here in season," saidMaud.
"Then for my maid of honor I must have one of you older girls," continued Sidney. "Perhaps I'll want all three. I don't know yet how many groomsmen Robert is going to have."
"Cousin Harold and my friend Max, if they will serve," said Robert, glancing inquiringly at them in turn.
"Thank you, Bob," said Harold; "seeing you are a brother physician—cousin as well—I cannot think of refusing. In fact I consider myself quite honored."
Max also accepted the invitation with suitable words and the talk went on.
"Are you expecting to take a trip?" asked Harold.
"Yes; we talk of going to the Bahamas," said Robert. "It is said to be a delightful winter resort and neither of us has ever been there."
"Then I think you will be likely to enjoy your visit there greatly," responded Harold.
"So we think," said Robert. "But now about groomsmen; I'd like to add your brother Herbert and Sidney's brother Frank if we can get them here, and they are willing to serve. Chester won't, because Lu must not be a bridesmaid, having served twice or thrice already in that capacity—and you know the old saying, 'Three times a bridesmaid never a bride.'"
"I have little doubt of the willingness of the lads if they are here in season," returned Harold; "but I think Herbert's movements will depend largely upon those of Cousin Arthur Conly. It would hardly do for all three of us to absent ourselves from professional duties at the same time."
"But Frank can be spared from his, I suppose?" Robert said inquiringly, turning to Chester as he spoke.
"Yes; for a short time, I think," was Chester's reply.
"Come, let us all go out on the lawn and consult in regard to the best place for having the arch made under which our bridal party are to stand," Maud said, addressing the company in general as they left the table. The invitation was accepted and they spent some time in strolling about under the trees, chatting familiarly; the principal topic being the one proposed by Mrs. Percival, but considering also the question where it would be best to set the tables for the wedding guests.
"It is likely to be a large company," said Maud, "but I think we can accommodate them all comfortably."
"Yes; I should think so," said Grandma Elsie. "Your lawn is large and lovely. I am very glad, Dick, that you secured so beautiful a place."
"Thank you, cousin," he returned, "I think I was fortunate in getting it; as Maud does too. She likes it well."
"And you prefer it to Viamede?"
"Only because it is my own," he answered with a smile. "One could not find a lovelier place than Viamede."
"But you lost the housekeeping of your cousin Virginia by making the change," Harold observed with a humorous look.
"Hardly!" laughed Dick; "she was that but in name. And the change toIsa's housekeeping and companionship must be rather agreeable to her,I should think."
"She seems to me much the more agreeable of the two," said Harold.
"Yes; Isa is a lovely woman. And Virginia has her good qualities, too."
As Torriswood was but little farther from the bayou than Viamede, it was presently decided by the young people that they would return by boat, and upon starting they found it so pleasant that they took a much longer sail, reaching their destination barely in time for dinner.
"Does Sidney's evident happiness in the near approach of her marriage make my little girl unhappy and discontented with her father's decision in regard to hers?" asked Captain Raymond, when Lucilla came to him for the usual bit of good-night chat.
"Oh, no, papa; no indeed!" she exclaimed with a low, happy laugh. "Have you forgotten, or don't you know yet, how dearly that same little girl loves to be with you?"
"Really, I believe she does," he said, caressing her with tenderness, "and though it is undeniably partly for his own—her father's—sake, that he insists upon delay, it is still more for yours—believing as he does that you are yet much too young for the cares and duties of married life. I want you to have a good play-day before going into them," he added, with another caress.
"You dear, kind father!" she said in response. "I could wish to be always a child if so I might be always with you."
"Well, daughter, we may hope for many years together in this world and a blessed eternity together in heaven."
"Yes, papa, there is great happiness in that thought. Oh, I am glad and thankful that God gave me a Christian father."
"And I that I have every reason to believe that my dear eldest daughter has learned to know and love him. To belong to Christ is better than to have the wealth of the world. Riches take to themselves wings and fly away; but he has said, 'I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee.'"
"Such a sweet, precious promise, father!"
"Yes; it may well relieve us from care and anxiety about the future; especially as taken in connection with that other precious promise, 'As thy days, so shall thy strength be.'"
"Don't you think, papa, that if we always remembered and fully believed the promises of God's word we might—we should be happy under all circumstances?"
"I do indeed," he said emphatically. "We all need to pray as the disciples did, 'Lord increase our faith,' for 'without faith it is impossible to please him.'"
The next three weeks passed very delightfully to our friends at Viamede. There were rides, drives, boating, and fishing excursions, not to speak of rambles through the woods and fields and quiet home pleasures. Also the approaching wedding and the preparations for it greatly interested them all, especially the young girls. It was pleasantly exciting to watch the making of the bride's dresses and of their own, intended to be worn on that important occasion. Besides, after a little there were various arrivals of relations and friends to whom invitations had been sent: the whole families from Riverside, Ion, Fairview, the Oaks, the Laurels, Beechwood, and Roselands.
Herbert Travilla would have denied himself the pleasure of the trip in order that Dr. Arthur Conly might take a much-needed rest, but it was finally decided that both might venture to absent themselves from their practice for a short season.
All Grandma Elsie's children and grandchildren were taken in at Viamede, making the house very full, and the rest were accommodated with the other relatives at the Parsonage, Magnolia Hall, and Torriswood; in which last-named place the family from the Oaks were domiciled. It was not until a very few days before that appointed for the wedding that the last of the relatives from a distance arrived.
To the extreme satisfaction of all concerned the wedding day dawned bright and beautiful—not a cloud in the sky. The ceremony was to be at noon, and the guests came pouring in shortly before that hour.
The grounds were looking their loveliest—the grass like emerald velvet bespangled with fragrant flowers of every hue, the trees laden with foliage, some of them—the oranges and magnolias in particular—bearing blossoms; the former their green and golden fruit also. Under these an arch, covered with smilax, had been erected, and from its centre hung a large bell formed of the lovely and fragrant orange blossoms; the clapper made of crimson roses. Under that the bridal party presently took their stand.
First came the three little flower girls—Elsie Dinsmore, Elsie Raymond, and Elsie Embury—dressed in white silk mull, and each carrying a basket of white roses; then the bridesmaids and groomsmen—Frank Dinsmore with Corinne Embury, Harold Travilla with Grace Raymond, Herbert Travilla and Mary Embury—the girls all dressed in white and carrying bouquets of smilax and white flowers.
Max had declined to serve on hearing that Eva could not serve with him on account of being still in mourning for her mother.
Lastly came the bride and groom, Sidney looking very charming in a white silk trimmed with abundance of costly lace, wearing a beautiful bridal veil and wreath of fresh and fragrant orange blossoms, and carrying a bouquet of the same in her hand.
The party stood underneath the arch, the bride and groom directly beneath the bell in its centre, while the guests gathered about them, the nearest relatives taking the nearest stations.
Mr. Cyril Keith was the officiating minister. It was a pretty ceremony, but short, and then the congratulations and good wishes began.
Those over, the guests were invited to seat themselves about a number of tables scattered here and there under the trees and loaded with tempting viands. The minister craved a blessing upon the food and the feast began.
An effort had been made to some extent so to seat the guests that relatives and friends would be near each other. The entire bridal party was at one table, the other young people of the connection were pretty close at hand—the older ones and their children not much farther off.
Everybody had been helped and cheery chat, mingled with some mirth, was going on, when suddenly a shrill voice, that seemed to come from the branches overhead, cried out, "What you 'bout, all you folks? Polly wants some breakfast."
Everybody started and looked up into the tree from which the sounds had seemed to come; but no parrot was visible there.
"Why, where is the bird?" asked several voices in tones of surprise. But hardly had the question been asked when another parrot seemed to speak from a table near that at which the bridal party sat. "Polly's hungry. Poor old Polly—poor old soul!"
"Is that so, Polly? Then just help yourself," said Dr. Percival.
"Polly wants her coffee. Poor old Polly, poor old soul!" came in reply, sounding as if the bird had gone farther down the table.
Then a whistle was heard that seemed to come from some distance among the trees, and hardly had it ceased when there was a loud call, "Come on, my merry men, and let us get our share of this grand wedding feast."
"Tramps about! and bold ones they must be!" exclaimed one of the neighborhood guests.
"Really I hope they are not going to make any trouble!" cried another. "I fear we have no weapons of defence among us; and if we had I for one would be loath to turn a wedding feast into a fight."
"Hark! hark!" cried another as the notes of a bugle came floating on the breeze, the next minute accompanied by what seemed to be the sound of a drum and fife playing a national air, "what, what can it mean? I have heard of no troops in this neighborhood. But that's martial music, and now," as another sound met the ear, "don't you hear the tramp, tramp?"
"Yes, yes, it certainly must be troops. But who or what can have called them out?" asked a third guest, starting to his feet as if contemplating rushing away to try to catch a glimpse of the approaching soldiers.
"Oh, sit down and let us go on with our breakfast," expostulated still another. "Of course they are American troops on some trifling errand in the neighborhood and not going to interfere with us. There! the music has stopped and I don't hear their tramp either. Dr. Percival," turning in his host's direction and raising his voice, "can you account for that martial music playing a moment since?"
"I haven't heard of any troops about, but am quite sure they will not interfere with us," returned the doctor. "Please, friends, don't let it disturb you at all." Little Ned Raymond was looking and listening in an ecstasy of delight.
"Oh, Cousin Ronald and brother Max, do some more!" he entreated in a subdued, but urgent tone. "Folks do believe it's real soldiers and it's such fun to see how they look and talk about it."
The martial music and the tramp, tramp began again and seemed to draw nearer and nearer, and several dogs belonging on the place rushed away in that direction, barking furiously.
It seemed to excite and disturb many of the guests, and Violet said, "There, my little son, I think that ought to satisfy you for the present. Let our gentlemen and everybody else have their breakfast in peace."
"Good advice, Cousin Vi," said Mr. Lilburn, "and the bit laddie may get his fill of such fun at another time."
"Really I don't understand this at all," remarked a lady seated at the same table with the gentleman who had called to Dr. Percival; "that martial music has ceased with great suddenness, and I no longer hear the tramp, tramp of the troops."
"I begin to have a very strong suspicion that ventriloquism is responsible for it all," returned the gentleman with a smile. "Did you not hear at the time of the marriage of Dr. Johnson's sister that a ventriloquist was present and made rare sport for the guests?"
"Oh, yes, I think I did and that he was one of the relatives. I presume he is here now and responsible for these strange sounds. But," she added thoughtfully, "there are several sounds going on at once; could he make them all, do you think?"
"Perhaps the talent runs in the family and there is more than one here possessing it."
"Ah, yes, that must be it," remarked another guest, nodding wisely. "I presume it is in the family, and what sport it must make for them."
"But what has become of those tramps—the merry men who were going to claim a share of this feast?" queried a young girl seated at the same table.
"Perhaps they have joined the troops," laughed another. "But hark! they are at it again," as a shrill whistle once more came floating on the breeze from the same direction as before, followed by the words, "Come on, my merry men; let us make haste ere all the best of the viands have disappeared down the throats of the fellows already there."
Mr. Hugh Lilburn had overheard the chat about the neighboring table and thought best to gratify the desire to hear further from the merry men of the wood.
A good many eyes were turned in the direction of the sounds, but none could see even one of the merry men so loudly summoned to make a raid upon the feasting company.
Then another voice seemed to reply from the same quarter as the first.
"The days of Robin Hood and his merry men are over lang syne; and this is no' the country for ony sic doin's. If we want a share o' the grand feast we maun ask it like decent, honest folk, tendering payment if that wad no' be considered an insult by the host an' hostess."
At that Dr. Percival laughed and called out in a tone of amusement, "Come on, friends, and let me help you to a share of the eatables; we have enough and to spare, and you will be heartily welcome."
"Thanks, sir," said the voice; "perhaps we may accept when your invited guests have eaten their fill and departed."
"Very well; manage it to suit yourselves," laughed the doctor.
Then another voice from the wood said, "Well, comrades, let us sit down here under the trees and wait for our turn."
All this had caused quite an excitement and a great buzz of talk among the comparatively stranger guests; yet they seemed to enjoy the dainty fare provided and ate heartily of it as they talked, listening, too, for a renewal of the efforts of the ventriloquists.
But the latter refrained from any further exercise of their skill, as the time was drawing near when the bride and groom were to set out upon their bridal trip. They and their principal attendants repaired to the house, where the bride exchanged her wedding gown for a very pretty and becoming travelling dress, her bridesmaids and intimate girl friends assisting her. Her toilet finished, they all ran down into the lower hall—already almost crowded with other guests—and, laughing and excited, stood awaiting her appearance at the head of the stairway. She was there in a moment—her bouquet of orange blossoms in her hand.
The hands of the laughing young girls were instantly extended toward her and she threw the bouquet, saying merrily:
"Catch it who can, and you will be the first to follow me into wedded happiness."
It so happened that Evelyn Leland and Lucilla Raymond stood so near together that their hands almost touched and that the bouquet fell to both—each catching it with one hand. Their success was hailed by a peal of laughter from all present, Chester Dinsmore and Max Raymond particularly seeming to enjoy the sport.
The bride came tripping down the stairway, closely followed by her groom, and the adieus began; not especially sad ones, as so many of the near and dear relatives left behind expected to see them again ere many weeks should pass—and quite a goodly number followed them down to the edge of the bayou, where lay the boat that was to carry them over the first part of their wedding journey. They stepped aboard amid showers of rice, accompanied by an old shoe or two, merry laughter, and many good wishes for a happy and prosperous trip; and as they seated themselves, a beautiful horseshoe formed of lovely orange blossoms fell into the bride's lap.
The little vessel was bountifully adorned with flags of various sizes—by the previous arrangement of Dr. Percival, who knew them both to be devoted admirers of the flag of our Union—and as the vessel moved away there came again from among the trees at a little distance, the sound of a bugle, the drum and the fife playing the "Star-Spangled Banner," than which nothing could have been more appropriate.
As the boat disappeared and the music died away something of a lonely feeling came over many of those left behind, and the guests not related began to make their adieus and depart to their homes. But the relatives tarried somewhat longer, chatting familiarly among themselves and re-examining the many handsome bridal gifts.
"They have fared well," said Mrs. Betty Norton, Dr. Robert's sister, "I am so glad for them both. I'm fond of my brother Bob, and well pleased with the match he has made. And not less so with Dick's," she added, turning with a smile to Maud, who stood at her side.
"Thank you, Betty," said Maud. "I was well pleased with the relationship we held to each other before, and am glad it has been made nearer. Though at first—when Dick proposed—I was afraid it—the relationship—ought to be a bar to our union. However, he said it was not near enough for that, and as he is a good physician I supposed he knew—so did not say him nay," she added, with a laughing look up into her husband's face as at that moment he drew near and stood at her side.
"Ah, don't you wish you had?" he returned, laying a hand lightly on her shoulder and giving her a very loverlike look and smile.
"I have serious objections to being questioned too closely," she said laughingly; "and please to remember, sir, that I did not promise never to have a secret from you even if you're my other—and perhaps better half."
"Oh, I always understood it was the woman's privilege to be that," he laughed; "and I certainly expect it of you, my dear."
"Why, how absurd in you!" she exclaimed. "With such a husband as mine it would be utterly impossible for me to be the better half."
"But it is quite the thing for each to think the other is," saidGrandma Elsie, regarding them with an affectionate smile.
"A state of feeling that is certain to make both very happy," remarkedCaptain Raymond, who happened to be standing near.
"As you and I know by experience," said Violet with a bright look up into his face.
"Yes," said her cousin Betty, "and anybody who knows you two as well as I do may see the exemplification of that doctrine in your lives. I have always known that you were a decidedly happy couple."
"But needn't plume yourself very much on that discovery, Cousin Betty," laughed Lucilla, "I think everybody makes it who is with them for even a day or two."
"And his children are not much, if at all, behind his wife in love for him, or behind him in love for her," added Grace, smiling up into her father's face.
"All doing their best to fill him with conceit," he said, returningthe smile, but with a warning shake of the head. "Where are Elsie andNed?" he asked, adding, "It is about time we were returning home—toViamede."
"Yes," said Violet, "we must hunt them up at once."
"I will find them, papa and mamma," Grace answered, hastening from the room.
The children were playing games on the lawn, but all ceased and came running to Grace as she stepped out upon the veranda and called in musical tones to her little sister and brother.
"What is it?" they asked as they drew near, "time to go home?"
"Yes; so papa and mamma think; and we must always do what they say, you know."
"Yes, indeed!" answered Elsie, "and it's just a pleasure because they always know best and are so kind and love us so dearly."
"We've been having an elegant time and it's just lovely here at Torriswood," said little Elsie Embury, "but as it is Uncle Dick's place we can come here often; and besides Viamede is quite as pretty, and we are to go there for the rest of the day."
"Oh, yes! aren't you glad?" responded several other young voices.
The carriages which had brought them were now seen to be in preparation to convey them to that desired destination, and presently one after another received its quota and departed.
One three-seated vehicle contained Mrs. Travilla, her father and his wife, Captain and Mrs. Raymond and their little boy and girl. Naturally the talk ran upon the scenes through which they had just been passing.
"It was right odd that Eva and Lu should have caught that bridal bouquet together," laughed Violet. "My dear, does it not make you tremble with apprehension lest those two weddings should take place somewhat sooner than you wish?"
"I cannot say that I am greatly alarmed," the captain returned pleasantly. "I have too much confidence in the affection and desire to please their father of my eldest son and daughter, to greatly fear that they will disregard my wishes and opinion in reference to that, or anything else indeed."
"And I feel very sure that your confidence is not misplaced," said Mrs. Travilla. "Also I think you are wise in wishing them—young as they are—to defer marriage for a few years."
Mr. and Mrs. Dinsmore expressed a hearty agreement in that opinion, and Violet said it was hers also. "But I could see," she added with playful look and tone, "that the lovers were both pleased and elated. However, it is not supposed to mean speedy matrimony, but merely that they will be the first of those engaged in the sport to enter into it."
"Yes," Captain Raymond said laughingly, "and I have known of one case in which the successful catcher—though the first of the competitors to enter into the bonds of matrimony—did not do so until six years afterward. So, naturally, I am not greatly alarmed."
A smaller vehicle, driving at some little distance in their rear, held the two young couples of whom they were speaking, and with them also the episode of the throwing and catching of the bouquet was the subject of conversation.
"It was capitally done, girls," laughed Max, "and possibly may encourage father to shorten our probation—somewhat at least."
"Yes, I am sure I wish it may," said Chester. "I hope you will not object, Lu?"
"I don't believe it would make a particle of difference in the result whether I did or not," she laughed. "If you knew father as well as I do you would know that he does not often retreat from a position that he has once taken. And he is not superstitious enough to pay any attention to such an omen as we have had to-day. Nor would I wish him to, as I have the greatest confidence in his wisdom and his love for his children."
"To all of which I add an unqualified assent," said Max heartily. "My father's opinion on almost any subject has far more weight with me than that of any other man."
Viamede presently showed as beautiful and festive a scene as had Torriswood earlier in the day—the velvety grass bespangled with sweet-scented flowers of varied hues, the giant oaks and magnolias, the orange trees with their beautiful glossy leaves, green fruit and ripe, lovely blossoms; also many flags floating here and there from upper windows, verandas, and tree tops. There were not a few exclamations of admiration and delight from the young people and children as carriage after carriage drove up and deposited its living load.
A very gay and mirthful time followed; sports begun at Torriswood were renewed here with as much zest and spirit as had been shown there; the large company scattering about the extensive grounds and forming groups engaged in one or another game suited to the ages and capacity of its members. But some preferred strolling here and there through the alleys and groves, engaging in nothing more exciting or wearying than sprightly chat and laughter, while the older ladies and gentlemen—among them Mr. and Mrs. Dinsmore, Mr. and Mrs. Ronald and Mr. and Mrs. Hugh Lilburn, Mr. and Mrs. Embury, and Mr. and Mrs. Keith, Mrs. Travilla, and Mr. and Mrs. Leland, Dr. Arthur Conly and his Marian—gathered in groups on the verandas or the nearer parts of the lawn.
Edward Travilla and his Zoe were down among the little folks, overseeing the sports of their own twin boy and girl and their mates, as were also Captain Raymond and his Violet, with their Elsie and Ned. His older son and daughters, with Chester Dinsmore and his brother Frank, could be seen at some little distance, occupying rustic seats under a wide-spreading tree and seemingly enjoying an animated and amusing chat. Drs. Harold and Herbert Travilla, strolling along with the two older daughters of Mr. Embury, presently joined them, and Dr. and Mrs. Percival shortly followed, the mirth and jollity apparently increasing with every addition.
"They seem to be very merry over yonder," remarked Mrs. Embury, with a smiling glance at that particular group. "It does me good to see Dick take a little relaxation—he is usually so busy in the practice of his profession."
"Yes," said Grandma Elsie, "and the evidently strong affection between him and Maud is very delightful to see."
"As is that between the captain and Violet," added her cousin Annis. "I thought her young for him when they married, but I never saw a more attached couple. They make no display of it before people, but no close observer could be with them long without becoming convinced of the fact."
"That is so, I think," said Mrs. Leland. "The captain is a fond father, but he has told Vi more than once that to lose her would be worse to him than being called to part with all his children."
"Ah, I hope neither trial may ever be appointed him," said GrandmaElsie, low and softly, ending with a slight sigh.
"And so Chester and Lucilla, Max and Eva are engaged," remarked Mrs. Embury in a reflective tone; "and so far as I know the entire connection seems satisfied with the arrangement."
"I have yet to hear of objection from any quarter," Mrs. Leland said with a smile, "and I can say with certainty that Lester and I are well satisfied, so far as our niece Eva is concerned. I think the captain is right and wise though, in bidding them delay marriage for at least a year or two—all of them being so young."
"I think," said Mrs. Arthur Conly, joining in the talk, "that FrankDinsmore is evidently very much in love with Grace."
"In which I sincerely hope he will get no encouragement from the captain," Dr. Conly added quickly and with strong emphasis. "Grace is much too young, and entirely too feeble to safely venture into wedlock for years to come."
"And I think you may safely trust her father to see that she does not," said Grandma Elsie. "I am sure he agrees in your opinion and that Grace is too good and obedient a daughter ever to go contrary to his wishes."
Gradually, as the sun drew near his setting, the participants in the sports gave them up and gathered in the parlors or upon the verandas, most of them just about weary enough with the pleasant exercise they had been taking to enjoy a little quiet rest before being summoned to partake of the grand dinner in process of preparation by Viamede's famous cooks.
Lucilla and her sister Grace, wishing to make some slight change in the arrangement of hair or dress, hastened up the broad stairway together on their way to the room now occupied by Grace and Elsie. In the upper hall they met their father, coming from a similar errand to his own apartment.
"Ah, daughters," he said in his usual kindly tones, "we have had much less than usual to say to each other to-day, but I hope you have been enjoying yourselves?" and as he spoke he put an arm around each and drew them closer to him.
"Oh, yes, yes, indeed, papa!" both replied, smilingly and in mirthful tones, Lucilla adding, "Everything seems to have gone swimmingly to-day."
"Even to the catching of the bride's bouquet, I suppose," returned her father, giving her an amused yet searching and half-inquiring look.
At that Lucilla laughed.
"Yes, papa; wasn't it odd that Eva and I happened to catch it together?"
"And were both highly elated over the happy augury?" he queried, still gazing searchingly into her eyes.
"Hardly, I think, papa; though Chester and Max seemed rather elated by it. But really," she added with a mirthful look, "I depend far more upon my father's decision than upon dozens of such auguries; and besides am in no haste to leave his care and protection or go from under his authority."
"Spoken like my own dear eldest daughter," he returned with a gratified look, and giving her a slight caress.
"It would be strange indeed, if any one of your children did want to get from under it, papa," said Grace, with a look of ardent affection up into his eyes.
"I am glad to hear you say that, daughter," he returned with a smile, and softly smoothing the shining, golden hair, "because it will be years before I can feel willing to resign the care of my still rather feeble little Grace to another, or let her take up the burdens and anxieties of married life."
"You may be perfectly sure I don't want to, papa," she returned with a gleeful, happy laugh. "It is just a joy and delight to me to feel that I belong to you and always shall as long as you want to keep me."
"Which will be just as long as you enjoy it—and we both live," he added a little more gravely.
Then releasing them with an injunction not to waste too much time over their toilet, he passed on down the stairway while they went on into their tiring-room.
"Oh, Lu," said Grace as she pulled down her hair before the glass, "haven't we the best and dearest father in the world? I like Chester ever so much, but I sometimes wonder how you can bear the very thought of leaving papa for him."
"It does not seem an easy thing to do," sighed Lucilla, "and yet——"But she paused, leaving her sentence unfinished.
"Yet what?" asked Grace, turning an inquiring look upon her sister.
"Well, I believe I'll tell you," returned Lucilla in a half-hesitating way. "I have always valued father's love oh, so highly, and once when I happened accidentally to overhear something he said to Mamma Vi, it nearly broke my heart—for a while." Her voice quivered with the last words, and she seemed unable to go on for emotion.
"Why, Lu, what could it have been?" exclaimed Grace in surprise, and giving her sister a look of mingled love and compassion.
With an evident effort Lucilla went on: "It was that she was dearer to him than all his children put together—that he would lose every one of them rather than part with her. It made me feel for a while as if I had lost everything worth having—papa's love for me must be so very slight. But after a long and bitter cry over it I was comforted by remembering what the Bible says, 'Let every one of you in particular so love his wife even as himself.' And the words of Jesus, 'For this cause shall a man leave father and mother, and cleave to his wife: and they twain shall be one flesh.' So I could see it was right for my father to love his wife best of all earthly creatures—she being but a part of himself—and besides I could not doubt that he loved me and each one of his children very, very dearly."
"Yes, I am sure he does," said Grace, vainly trying to speak in her usual cheery, light-hearted tones. "Oh, Lu, I don't wonder you cried over it. It would just kill me to think papa didn't care very much about me."
"Oh, Gracie, he does! I know he does! I am sure he would not hesitate a moment to risk his life for any one of us."
"Yes, I am sure of it! and what but his love for you makes him so unwilling to give you up to Chester? I can see that Ches feels it hard to wait, but father certainly has the best of rights to keep his daughters to himself as long as they are under age."
"And as much longer as he chooses, so far as I am concerned. I am only too glad that he seems so loath to give me up. My dear, dear father! Words cannot express my love for him or the regret I feel for the rebellious conduct which gave him so much pain and trouble in days long gone by."
"Dear Lu," said Grace, "I am perfectly sure our dear father forgave all that long ago."
"Yes, but I can never forget or forgive it myself. Nor can I forget how glad and thankful he was that I was not the one killed by the bear out at Minersville, or his saving me that time when I was so nearly swept into Lake Erie by the wind; how closely he hugged me to his breast—a tear falling on my head—when he got me safely into the cabin, and the low-breathed words, 'Thank God, my darling, precious child is safe in my arms.' Oh, Gracie, I have seemed to hear the very words and tones many a time since. So I cannot doubt that he does love me very much; even if I am not so dear to him as his wife is."
"And you love mamma, too?"
"Yes, indeed! she is just like a dear older sister. I may well love her since she is so dear to papa, and was so kind and forbearing with me in those early years of her married life when I certainly was very far from being the good and lovable child I ought to have been. She was very forbearing, and never gave papa the slightest hint of my badness."
"She has always been very good and kind to us," said Grace, "and I love her very dearly."
"And papa showed his love for me in allowing Chester to offer himself because he had saved my life—for otherwise he would have forbidden it for at least another year or two."
"Yes, I know," said Grace. "We certainly have plenty of proofs that father does love us very much."
"But we must not delay at this business, as he bade us hasten down again," Lucilla said, quickening her movements as she spoke.
"No; I'm afraid he is beginning to wonder what is keeping us so long," said Grace, following her example.
They had no idea how their father was engaged at that moment. As he reached the lower hall Frank Dinsmore stepped forward and accosted him. "Can I have a moment's chat with you, captain?" he asked in an undertone, and with a slightly embarrassed air.
"Certainly, Frank. It is a very modest request," was the kindly-toned response, "What can I do for you?"
"Very nearly the same thing that you have so kindly done for my brother, sir," replied the young man, coloring and hesitating somewhat in his speech. "I—I am deeply, desperately in love with your daughter, Miss Grace, and——"
"Go no farther, my young friend," interrupted the captain in a grave though still kindly tone. "I have no objection to you personally, but Grace is entirely too young and too delicate for her father to consider for a moment the idea of allowing her to think of such a thing as marriage. Understand distinctly that I should be not a whit more ready to listen to such a request from any other man—older or younger, richer or poorer."
"But she is well worth waiting for, sir, and if you would only let me speak and try to win her affections, I——"
"That must be waited for, Frank. I cannot and will not have her approached upon the subject," was the almost stern rejoinder. "Promise me that you will not do or say anything to give her the idea that you want to be more to her than a friend."
"That is a hard thing you are requiring, sir," sighed Frank.
"But quite necessary if you would be permitted to see much of Grace," returned the captain with great decision. "And, seeing that you feel toward her as you have just told me you do, I think the less you see of each other—or hold intercourse together—the better. Should she be in good, firm health some six or eight years hence, and you and she then have a fancy for each other, her father will not, probably, raise any objection to your suit; but until then I positively forbid anything and everything of the kind."
"I must say I find that a hard sentence, captain," sighed the would-be suitor. "It strikes me that most fathers would be a trifle more ready to make an eligible match for a daughter of Miss Grace's age. She is very young, I acknowledge, but I have known some girls to marry even younger. And you will not even allow her to enter into an engagement?"
"No; I have no desire to rid myself of my daughter; very far from it. For my first set of children I have a peculiarly tender feeling because—excepting each other—they have no very near relative but myself. They were quite young when they lost their mother, and for years I have felt that I must fill to them the place of both parents as far as possible, and have tried to do so. As one result," he added with his pleasant smile, "I find that I am exceedingly loath to give them up into any other care and keeping."
"But since we are neighbors and distant connections, and my brother engaged to Miss Lu, you do not absolutely forbid me your house, captain?"
"No; you may see Grace in my presence—perhaps occasionally out of it—provided you carefully obey my injunction to refrain from anything like love-making."
"Thank you, sir; I accept the conditions," was Frank's response, and the two separated just as Lucilla and Grace appeared at the top of the stairway near which they had been standing, Frank passing out to the veranda, the captain moving slowly in the opposite direction.
"There's father now!" exclaimed Grace, tripping down the stairs."Papa," as he turned at the sound of her voice and glanced up at her,"I've been re-arranging my hair. Please tell me if you like it in thisstyle."
"Certainly, daughter; I like it in any style in which I have ever seen it arranged," he returned, regarding it critically, but with an evidently admiring gaze. "I am glad and thankful that you have an abundance of it—such as it is," he added sportively, taking her hand in his as she reached his side. Then turning to Lucilla, "And yours, too, Lulu, seems to be in well-cared-for condition."
"Thank you, papa dear; I like occasionally to hear you call me by that name so constantly used in the happy days of my childhood."
"Ah! I hope that does not mean that these are not happy days?" he said, giving her a look of kind and fatherly scrutiny.
"Oh, no, indeed, father! I don't believe there is a happier girl thanI in all this broad land."
"I am thankful for that," he said with a tenderly affectionate look into her eyes as she stood at his side gazing up into his; "for there is nothing I desire more than the happiness of these two dear daughters of mine."
"Yes, father dear, we both know you would take any amount of trouble for our pleasure or profit," said Grace gayly; "but just to know that we belong to you is enough for us. Isn't it, Lu?"
"And are so dear to him," added Lucilla. "I couldn't be the happy girlI am if I didn't know that."
"Never doubt it, my darlings; never for a moment," he said in a moved tone.
"Oh, so here you are, girls!" exclaimed a familiar voice just in their rear. "I have been all round the verandas, looking for you, but you seemed to be lost in the crowd or to have vanished into thin air."
"Certainly not that last, sister Rose," laughed the captain. "I am happy to say there is something a good deal more substantial than that about them."
"Yes, I see there is; they are both looking remarkably well. And now I hope we can have a good chat. There has hardly been an opportunity for it yet—there being such a crowd of relations and friends, and such a commotion over the wedding—and you know I want to hear all about what you did and saw in Florida. Also to tell you of the improvements we are talking of making at Riverside."
"You will have hardly time for a very long talk, Rosie," said her mother, joining them at that moment. "The call to dinner will come soon. But here are comfortable chairs and a sofa in which you can rest and chat until then."
"Yes, mamma, and you will join us, will you not? And you too, brotherLevis?" as the captain turned toward the outer door.
"I shall be pleased to do so if my company is desired," he replied, taking a chair near the little group already seated.
"Of course it is, sir. I always enjoyed your company even when you were my respected and revered instructor with the right and power to punish me if I failed in conduct or recitation," returned Rosie in the bantering tone she had so often adopted in days gone by.
"I am rejoiced to hear it," he laughed.
"And you may as well make yourself useful as story-teller of all you folks saw and did in Florida," she continued.
"Much too long a tale for the few minutes we are likely to be able to give to it at present," he said. "Let us reserve that for another time and now hear the story of your own prospective doings at Riverside."
"Or talk about this morning's wedding. It was a pretty one; wasn't it? I never saw Sidney look so charming as she did in that wedding gown and veil. I hope they will have as pleasant a wedding trip as my Will and I had; and be as happy afterward as we are."
"I hope so, indeed," said her mother, "and that their after life may be a happy and prosperous one."
"Yes, mamma, I join you in that. And, Lu, how soon do you expect to follow suit and give her the right to call you sister?"
"When my father bids me; not a moment sooner," replied Lucilla, turning an affectionately smiling look upon him.
He returned it, saying, "Which will not be for many months to come. He is far from feeling ready yet to resign even one of his heart's best treasures."
"Oh, it is a joy to have you call me that, papa!" she exclaimed low and feelingly.
They chatted on for a few minutes longer, when they were interrupted by the call to the dinner table. A very welcome one, for the sports had given good appetites and the viands were toothsome and delicious. The meal was not eaten in haste or silence, but amid cheerful, mirthful chat and low-toned, musical laughter, and with its numerous courses occupied more than an hour.
On leaving the banqueting room they again scattered about the parlors, verandas, and grounds, resuming the intimate and friendly intercourse held there before the summons to their feast.
Captain Raymond had kept a watchful eye upon his daughters—Grace in especial—and now took pains to seat her near himself on the veranda, saying, "I want you to rest here a while, daughter, for I see you are looking weary; which is not strange, considering how much more than your usual amount of exercise you have already taken to-day."
"Yes, I am a little tired, papa," she answered, with a loving smile up into his eyes as she sank somewhat wearily into the chair, "and it is very, very pleasant to have you so kindly careful of me."
"Ah!" he returned, patting her cheek and smiling affectionately upon her, "it behooves everyone to be careful of his own particular treasures."
"And our dear Gracie is certainly one of those," said Violet, coming to the other side of the young girl and looking down a little anxiously into the sweet, fair face. "Are you very weary, dearest?"
"Oh, not so very, mamma dear," she answered blithely. "This is a delightful chair papa has put me into, and a little rest in it, while digesting the good hearty meal I have just eaten, will make me all right again, I think."
"Won't you take this other one by her side, my love? I think you too need a little rest," said the captain gallantly.
"Thank you, I will if you will occupy that one on her other side, so that we will have her between us. And here come Lu and Rosie, so that we can perhaps finish the chat she tells me she was holding with you and the girls before the call to dinner."
"I don't believe we can, mamma," laughed Grace, "for here come WillCroly and Chester to take possession of them; Eva and Max too, andFrank."
"Then we will just defer it until another time," said Violet. "Those who have children will soon be leaving for their homes and those left behind will form a smaller, quieter party."
Violet's surmises proved correct, those with young children presently taking their departure in order that the little ones might seek their nests for the night.
The air began to grow cool and the family and remaining guests found it now pleasanter within doors than upon the verandas. Music and conversation made the time pass rapidly, a light tea was served, Mr. Dinsmore—Mrs. Travilla's father—read a portion of Scripture and led in a short prayer, a little chat followed, and the remaining guests bade adieu for the present and went their ways; Maud's two brothers and the Dinsmores from the Oaks among them.
"Now, Grace, my child, linger not a moment longer, but get to bed as fast as you can," said Captain Raymond to his second daughter as they stood upon the veranda, looking after the departing guests. His tone was tenderly affectionate and he gave her a good-night caress as he spoke.
"I will, father dear," she answered cheerfully and made haste to do his bidding.
"She is looking very weary. I fear I have let her exert herself to-day far more than was for her good," he remarked somewhat anxiously to his wife and Lucilla standing near.
"But I hope a good night's rest will make it all right with her," Violet returned in a cheery tone, adding playfully, "and we certainly have plenty of doctors at hand, if anything should go wrong with her or any of us."
"Excellent ones, too," said Lucilla; "but I hope and really expect that a good night's rest will quite restore her to her usual health and strength. So, father, don't feel anxious and troubled."
"I shall endeavor not to, my wise young mentor," he returned with a slight laugh, laying a hand lightly upon her shoulder as he spoke.
"Oh, papa, please excuse me if I seemed to be trying to teach you!" she exclaimed in a tone of penitence. "I'm afraid it sounded very conceited and disrespectful."
"If it did it was not, I am sure, so intended, so I shall not punish you this time," he replied in a tone which puzzled her with the question whether he were jesting or in earnest.
"I hope you will if you think I deserve it, father," she said low and humbly, Violet having left them and gone within doors, and no one else being near enough to overhear her words.
At that he put his arm about her and drew her closer. "I but jested, daughter," he said in tender tones, "and am not in the least displeased with you. So your only punishment shall be an order presently to go directly to your room and prepare for bed. But first let us have our usual bit of bedtime chat, which I believe I enjoy as fully as does my little girl herself."
"Oh, father, how kind in you to say that!" she exclaimed in low, but joyous tones. "I do dearly love to make you my confidant—you are so wise and kind and I am so sure that you love me dearly, as your very own God-given property. Am I not that still as truly as I ever was?"
"Indeed you are! as truly now as when you were a babe in arms," he said, with a happy laugh and drawing her closer to his heart. "A treasure that no amount of money could buy from me. Your price is above rubies, my own darling."
"What sweet words, papa!" she exclaimed with a happy sigh. "But sometimes when I think of all my past naughtiness—giving you so much pain and trouble—I wonder that you can love me half so well as you do."
"Dear child, I think I never loved you the less because of all that, nor you me less because of the severity of my discipline."
"Papa, I believe I always loved you better for your strictness and severity. You made it so clear to me that it was done for my best good and that it hurt you when you felt it your duty to give me pain."
"It did indeed!" he said; "but for a long time now my eldest daughter has been to me only a joy, a comfort, a delight—so that I can ill bear the thought of resigning her to another."
"Ah, father, what sweet, sweet words to hear from your lips! they make me so glad, so happy."
"Pleasant words those for me to hear, and a pleasant thought that my dear eldest daughter is not in haste to leave my protecting care for that of another. I trust Chester is inclined to wait patiently until the right time comes?"
"He has made it evident to me that he would much rather shorten the time of waiting if there were a possibility of gaining my father's consent."
"But that there is not," the captain replied with decision. "If I should consider only my own feeling and inclination and my belief as to what would be really best for you, I should certainly keep full possession of my eldest daughter for several years to come. I have had a talk with Dr. Conly on the subject, and he, as a physician, tells me it would be far better in most cases, for a girl to remain single until well on toward twenty-five."
"Which would make her quite an old maid, I should think, papa," laughed Lucilla. "Yet if you bid me wait that long and can make Chester content—I'll not be at all rebellious."
"No, I don't believe you would; but I have really no idea of trying you so far. By the way, Rosie and her Will, Maud and Dick seem two very happy couples."
"Yes, indeed, father; it is a pleasure to watch them. And do you knowI think Frank Dinsmore is casting longing eyes at our Grace."
"But you don't think the dear child cares at all for him?"
"Oh, no, sir! no, indeed! Grace doesn't care in the least for beaux, and loves no other man half so well as she does her father and mine."