Captain Raymond's invitation proved scarcely less agreeable to Mr. and Mrs. Dinsmore than to their younger friends and relatives, and their acceptance was telephoned to Woodburn before the Sunnyside party had left for their homes. All heard it with satisfaction, for Grandpa and Grandma Dinsmore were pleasant traveling companions. Some lively chat followed, in regard to needed preparations for the trip, and in the midst of it a servant came in with the afternoon mail.

The Captain distributed it and among Max's portion was a document of official appearance. Evelyn noted it with a look of apprehension, and drew nearer to her young husband's side.

"Orders, my son?" asked the Captain, when Max had opened it and glanced over the contents.

"Yes, sir; I am to go immediately to Washington, upon the expiration of my leave which will be about the time the rest of you set sail in the 'Dolphin.'"

The announcement seemed quite a damper upon the previous high spirits of the little company, and there were many expressions of disappointment and regret.

"Well," said Chester, getting on his feet as he spoke, "I must go home now; there is a little matter in regard to one of my cases that must be attended to at once, since I am likely to leave the neighborhood so soon."

"And if my husband goes, I must go, too," said Lucilla, in a lively tone, rising and taking up the wrap she had thrown off on coming into the warm room.

"It is near the dinner hour; you would better stay, all of you, and dine with us," said the Captain.

All thanked him, but declined, each having some special reason for wishing to go home at that particular time.

"Well, come in and share a meal with us whenever you will," said the Captain. "I think you know, one and all, that you are heartily welcome."

"Yes, father, we do," said Max, "and we are always glad when you care to breakfast, dine, or sup with us."

"Any of us but papa?" asked Ned.

"Yes, indeed; all of you from Mamma Vi down," laughed Max, giving the little fellow an affectionate clap on the shoulder as he passed him on his way out to the hall.

"Yes, Ned, each one of you will always be a most welcome visitor," said Chester.

"Indeed you will, you may be very sure of that," added Lucilla and Eva.

"So sure are we of that, that you need not be surprised to see any of us at any time," laughed Violet. "Nor will we be surprised or grieved to see any or all of you at any time."

"No, indeed! I want my daughters—and sons also—all to feel entirely at home always in their father's house," the Captain said, with his genial smile.

"Thank you, father dear, and don't forget that Sunnyside is one of your homes, and we are always ever so glad to open its doors to you," said Lucilla, going to him and holding up her face for a kiss, which he gave with warmth of affection.

"And not Lu's side only, but ours as well," added Evelyn, holding out her hand and looking up lovingly into his face.

He took the hand, drew her closer to him and gave her a caress as affectionate as that he had just bestowed upon Lucilla.

The rest of the good-byes were quickly said, and both young couples were wending their homeward way. They were all in thoughtful mood, and the short walk was taken in almost unbroken silence.

Eva's heart was full at thought of the approaching separation from her young husband. How could she bear it? He seemed almost all the world to her, now that they had been for weeks such close companions, and life without his presence would be lonely and desolate indeed. She passed up the stairway to their bedroom, while he paused in the hall below to remove his overcoat and hat. Her eyes were full of tears, as she disposed of her wraps, then crossed the room to her mirror to see that dress and hair were in perfect order.

"No improvement needed, my own love, my darling," Max said, coming up behind her and passing an arm about her waist.

At that she turned and hid her face upon his breast.

"Oh, Max, my husband, my dear, dear husband," she sobbed, "how can I live away from you? You are now more than all the world to me."

"As you are to me, dear love. It is hard to part, but we will hope to meet again soon; and in the meantime let us write to each other every day. And as there is no war now you need not feel that your husband is in any special danger."

"Yes, thank God for that," she said, "and that we may know that we are both in his kind care and keeping wherever we are."

"And surely you will be less lonely than you were before our marriage—father claims you as his daughter, Chester and little Ned are your brothers, Lu and Grace your sisters."

"Yes, oh yes; I have a great deal to be thankful for, but you are to me a greater blessing than all the world."

"As you are to me, dearest," was his response, as he held her close to his heart, pressing warm kisses on cheek and brow and lip.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the hall, Chester and Lucilla were chatting about the Captain's plan for a winter trip.

"I think it will be just delightful, Chester," she said, "since I am to have you along. I am so glad you are going, sorry as I am that ill-health makes it necessary."

"Yes, my dear," he returned with a smile, "I am fortunate, indeed, in having so loving a wife and so kind and able a father-in-law. I am truly sorry that I must leave some important business matters to which I should like to give attention promptly and in person, but I intend to put that care aside and enjoy our holiday as fully as possible. I heartily wish Max could go with us. I think it would almost double the pleasure of the trip."

"As I do," responded Lucilla, with a sigh; "but it seems one can never have all one wants in this world. I doubt if it would be good for us if we could."

"No, it assuredly would not. Now, my dear, I am going down to the library to look at some papers connected with one of my cases, and shall probably be busy over them until the call to dinner."

The next few days were busy ones with those who were to have a part in the southern trip of the "Dolphin." Woodburn and Sunnyside were to be left in the care of Christine and Alma, with a sufficient number of servants under them to keep everything in order.

Max went with the others to the yacht, spent a half hour there, then bade good-bye, went ashore and took a train for Washington. It was Eva's first parting from her husband, and she shut herself into her stateroom for a cry to relieve her pent-up feelings of grief and loneliness. But presently there was a gentle little tap at the door and Elsie Raymond's sweet voice asked, "Sister Eva, dear, don't you want to come on deck with me and see them lift the anchor and start the 'Dolphin' on her way?"

"Yes, dear little sister; thank you for coming for me," replied Evelyn, opening the door.

"All the rest of us were there and I thought you would like to be there, too," continued the little girl, as they passed through the saloon and on up the stairway.

"Yes, little sister, it was very kind in you to think of me."

"But I wasn't the only one; everybody seemed to be thinking of you and looking round for you. So I asked papa if I should come for you, and he said yes."

"It was very kind in both him and you, little sister Elsie," Eva said, with a smile. "Our dear father is always kind, and I am very glad to be his daughter."

"So am I," returned Elsie, with a happy little laugh. "I think he's the dearest, kindest father that ever was made."

They had just reached the deck at that moment, and as they stepped upon it they caught sight of Harold and Grace standing near, looking smilingly at them, pleased with Elsie's tribute to her father, which they had accidentally overheard.

"Oh, Uncle Harold, you'll take Sister Eva to a good place to see everything from, wont you?" exclaimed Elsie.

"Yes, little niece, the everything you mean," he returned, laughingly. "There is room for us all. Come this way," he added, and led them to that part of the deck where the other passengers were grouped.

There they were greeted with kindness and given a good place for seeing all the preparations for starting the vessel on her way to the Bermudas. She was soon moving swiftly in that direction, and, a cool breeze having sprung up, her passengers left the deck for the warmer and more comfortable saloon.

"Elsie and Ned wouldn't you like your grandma to tell you something about the islands we are going to?" asked Mrs. Travilla; the two little ones being, as usual, quite near her.

"Yes, indeed! grandma," both answered, in eager tones, seating themselves one on each side of her. "I heard papa say it wouldn't be a very long voyage we would take at the start, because the Bermudas were only about six hundred miles away from our coast," said Elsie. "They belong to England, don't they, grandma?"

"Yes; but they were named for a Spaniard, Bermudez, who first sighted them in 1527; they are also called Somers's Isles from Sir George Somers, an Englishman, who was shipwrecked there in 1609. That was what led to their colonization from Virginia—two years later when it was itself only four years old.

"Are they big islands, grandma? and are there many of them?" asked Ned.

"No, there are perhaps five hundred of them, but the whole group measures only about twelve thousand acres in all. They occupy a space only about twenty miles long by six broad."

"Then the group isn't worth very much, I suppose."

"Yes, because its situation makes it a natural fortress which can hardly be overrated. They form a bond of union between two great divisions of British America; on each side of them is a highway between the Gulf of Mexico and the North Atlantic. There are many picturesque creeks and bays, large and deep, the water so clear as to reveal, even to its lowest depths, the many varieties of fish sporting among the coral rocks, and the beautifully variegated shells."

"And it has a warm climate, hasn't it, grandma?" asked Elsie. "I think that is why we are going there."

"Yes, the climate is said to be like that of Persia, with the addition of a constant sea-breeze."

"I shall like that," responded the little girl with satisfaction. "But what kind of people live there, grandma?"

"A good many whites and still more colored people."

"Slaves, grandma?" asked Ned.

"No; the islands belong to England, and years ago she abolished slavery in all her dominions."

"What are the names of some of them, grandma? the islands, I mean."

"The largest, which is fifteen miles long, is called Bermuda; St. George is three and a half miles long and is the military station of the colony; it commands the entrance of the only passage for large vessels. Its land-locked haven and the narrow and intricate channel leading into it are defended by strong batteries."

"You have been there, haven't you, grandma?"

"Yes; years ago," she said, with a sigh, thinking of the loved partner of her life who had been with her then and there.

"And your Grandpa Dinsmore and I were there at the same time," remarked Grandma Dinsmore, sitting near; and she went on to give a graphic account of scenes they had witnessed there, Mr. Dinsmore presently joining in a way to make it very interesting to the children.