The young people had a merry time over their breakfast the next morning, rehearsing all they had gone through in their celebration of Hallowe'en, each one seeming to have enjoyed his or her part in it. They lingered over the meal, but soon after leaving the table scattered to their homes, excepting Eva, who returned to Woodburn with Max and Lucilla.

On arriving there Lucilla hastened to the library, where she found her father examining some business letters.

"Good-morning, papa!" she said. "Here is your amanuensis, and haven't you something for her to do?"

"Yes," he replied, looking up at her with a smile, as she stood close at his side, "and the first thing is to give her father a kiss; that is, if she will not find it a disagreeable task."

"Anything else than that, father dear," she returned, bending down to give and receive a caress. "And won't you let me help, as usual, with your correspondence?"

"I shall be very glad to do so," he returned, rising to take the cover from her typewriter, and put the paper in place. Then she seated herself and he began dictating. When they had finished, "Did you miss me last night and this morning, father?" she asked.

"I did indeed," he said; "but that is something I will have to get used to, when Chester takes you from me."

He ended with a sigh.

"Oh, papa, don't sigh so over it!" she exclaimed. "You know it isn't as if I had to go away to a distance from you. I shall be close at hand, and you can call me to your side whenever you will."

"Which will be pretty often, I think," he said, with a smile, drawing her closer to him, and caressing her hair and cheek with his hand. "Had you a pleasant time last evening? And did you go to bed in season, as your father would have seen that you did had you been at home?"

"No, I did not get to bed early, papa," she replied. "I thought you would excuse me for staying up, for once, to try my fortune. For you see, we all wanted to know who were to be our future life partners, Rosie telling us that there was 'many a slip 'twixt the cup and the lip,' so that our engagements didn't make us safe."

She concluded with a light laugh and look that seemed to say she felt no fear that he would be seriously displeased with her.

"You stayed up to try your fortune, did you?" he returned, with a look of amusement. "Why, my child, I thought you considered it already made."

"So I do, papa, and last night's experience only confirmed my belief."

Then she went on to tell him the whole story, he seeming to enjoy the tale as she told it.

"You are not vexed with me, papa, for staying up so late, just for once?" she asked, when her tale was told.

"No," he replied, "though I should be far from willing to have you make a practice of it.

the old saying is, and I want you to be all three."

"As you are, father; and I am the first, at all events," she returned, with a happy little laugh. "You have never had to pay a big doctor's bill for me."

"No; but to escape that is the least of my reasons for wanting to keep you healthy."

Just then Max came in with Eva, bringing a book on architecture.

"Here are some plans for houses, father," he said, laying the book open before the captain. "Please look at this, and tell me what you think of it, as in some respects it is what would suit us. You too, Lu. Eva and I like the most of it very much."

The captain and Lucilla examined it with interest, and were as well pleased as were Max and Evelyn. It was a matter in which they and Chester also were deeply interested, and they were taking time and trouble to make sure of having their future home all that could be desired. It was not to be built in haste. They had agreed to take plenty of time and thought in regard to all the interior arrangements, making everything as convenient as possible, as well as to the exterior, which they were resolved should be such as to cause the building to be recognized as an ornament to its neighborhood.

Chester was the one most anxious to get the house built and to secure his bride; the other three seemed well content to defer their marriage until the captain should give full and hearty consent.

The exact spot on which the building should stand had been selected, and the plans for it almost matured, when there came an order for Max to join a naval vessel about to sail for a distant foreign port.

There was a tender and sorrowful leave-taking, and Max was absent from the home circle for many months.

For a time those left behind seemed to have lost much of their interest in the building of the new home. Then came the fall rains, after that the winter storms, and it was decided that the actual work should not be begun until spring. Then Grace had a serious illness, which kept her in bed for several weeks, and she had hardly recovered when the little ones at Fairview were taken down with measles. They all passed through that trouble safely, but the weather had now grown warm enough to make a more northern climate desirable, and they—the whole Fairview family, accompanied by their grandma and the Raymonds—went aboard the captain's yacht and sailed up the coast and the Hudson River to Evelyn's pretty home, Crag Cottage.

That became their headquarters for the summer, though occasional short trips were taken to one or another of the points of interest in New York and the adjoining States. They all enjoyed themselves, though Chester and Max were missed—especially by Lucilla and Evelyn. Chester, however, joined the party late in the season, and was with them on the journey home.

Soon after their return, work was begun upon the proposed site of the new double dwelling, the cellars were dug, and the foundation was laid. But the work proceeded slowly. Max was not likely to be at home again soon, and it was well to take time to have everything done in the best possible manner.

Evelyn and Lucilla had fully decided upon a double wedding, which of course could not take place until Max obtained a furlough, and came home for a visit of some weeks or months. Chester felt the delay hard upon him, but had to content himself with being allowed to spend all his spare time with his betrothed.

Fall and winter passed quietly. There were the usual holiday festivities and exchange of gifts, then quiet home duties and pleasures filled up the days, and the weeks glided swiftly by.

One morning in February the captain, looking over his daily paper, uttered an exclamation of mingled regret and indignation.

"What is it, my dear?" asked Violet. "Something that troubles you, I perceive."

"Yes," he replied; "here is a piece of very bad news. The Maine, one of our favorite battleships, lying at anchor in Havana harbor, has been suddenly destroyed by a terrible explosion—wrecked and sent to the bottom with 266 American seamen; only the captain and a few of his officers who were on shore escaping the awful fate of the others."

"Oh, that is dreadful, dreadful!" cried Violet. "But how did it happen? What was the cause?"

"That has yet to be discovered, my dear," replied Captain Raymond; "but I have little doubt that it was the work of some enemy among the Spaniards. They have been angry at the presence of the vessel in their harbor—their newspapers calling it a taunt and a banter, for they know our people sympathize with the Cubans. Somebody has done this evil deed; it remains to be discovered who it was."

"This is Sigsbee's despatch to the government," he added, and read aloud:

"Maine blown up in Havana Harbor at nine-forty to-night. Many wounded and doubtless more killed or drowned. Wounded and others on board Spanish man-of-war and Ward Line steamers. Send light-house tenders from Key West for crew and the few pieces of equipment above water. None has clothing other than that upon him. Public opinion should be suspended until further report. All officers believed to be saved. Jenkins and Merritt not yet accounted for. Many Spanish officers, including representatives of General Blanco, now with me to express sympathy."

"Sigsbee."

It was directly after breakfast and the family were all present. Lucilla and Grace seemed much excited, and little Ned asked anxiously if "Brother Max" was on that ship.

"No, my son," replied his father; "I am very glad to know certainly that he was not. Have you forgotten that he is with Commodore Dewey on the coast of China?"

"Oh, yes, papa! I forgot where Havana was. I remember now that it is not in China, but in Cuba."

"Oh, that is a dreadful piece of news, papa!" said Lucilla, in tones of excitement. "Won't it be likely to bring on a war with Spain—especially as we have been feeling so sorry for the poor Cubans whom she has been abusing so terribly?"

"I am really afraid it can hardly fail to cause war," replied the captain. "But that will depend very much upon the result of the investigation which will no doubt be made by our government."

"Oh, I hope we won't have war!" cried Grace, shuddering at the thought.

"War is a very dreadful thing," sighed her father, "but sometimes the right thing on one side—that of those who undertake it for the downtrodden and oppressed."

"But we are not such folks, are we, papa?" asked Ned.

"No, son; but the poor Cubans are, and the question is whether we should not undertake to win their freedom for them."

"By fighting the Spaniards who abuse them so, papa?" asked little Elsie.

"Yes."

"What have they been doing to them, papa?" asked Ned.

"Oppressing, robbing, murdering them, burning down their houses, forcing them into the cities and towns and leaving them to starve to death there."

"Why, papa, how dreadful! I should think our folks ought to go and fight for them. I wish I was big enough to help."

"My dear little son, I am glad you are not," said his mother, drawing him to her side and giving him a fond caress.

"Why, mamma?"

"Because you might be badly hurt or even killed, and that would break your mother's heart."

"Then, mamma, I'm glad I don't have to go, for I wouldn't like to hurt you so," said the little fellow, stroking and patting his mother's cheek, and gazing fondly into her eyes.

"Oh, I hope it won't come to war for us!" exclaimed Grace; "though I should like to have the poor Cubans helped. Just think how dreadful, if Max should be engaged in a naval battle."

"Well, my child, we won't borrow trouble about that," said her father soothingly.

"And I hope there is not much danger, as he is away off in the China seas," said Lucilla, trying to cheer Grace, though she herself had little idea that he would escape taking part if there should be war.

"In case of war, that will hardly excuse him from doing his duty," said their father; "nor would our dear brave boy wish to be excused. But we will all pray that he may be spared injury, if such be the Lord's will."

"Indeed we will, in that case, pour out constant petitions for him—the dear fellow!" said Violet, with emotion. "But, Levis, do you think this will bring on war?"

"It looks very likely to me," replied her husband, sadness perceptible in both his countenance and tones. "And, really, I think it is our duty to interfere for those poor, savagely treated Cubans. I think it is high time that this powerful people undertook their cause."

"And I suppose the Spaniards are already angry with the Americans for sympathizing with those poor, oppressed Cubans," said Lucilla.

"Yes," said her father, "and this awful deed—the blowing up of our grand battleship with its hundreds of sailors—is doubtless an expression of their ill-will."

And that was not the thought of Captain Raymond alone, but of many others as well. The wrongs and sufferings of the Cubans had so touched the hearts of thousands of the Americans that they felt strongly impelled to make some effort to help them to win their freedom; and now this wanton destruction of one of our favorite battleships—and, what was far worse, the lives of nearly three hundred innocent men—so increased their anger and distrust that it could scarcely be restrained. Through all the land of the Americans there was a strong feeling of indignation over the treachery and cruelty of the blow that had destroyed that gallant ship and sacrificed so many innocent lives; but the people were sternly quiet while the Court of Inquiry was making its investigations. They were ready to punish the doers of that dastardly deed, but not without proof of their guilt. For forty days they and their Congress silently awaited the report of the board of naval officers engaged in examining into the evidences of the cause of the destruction of the Maine. Their verdict came at length, but in rather vague form—that, according to the evidence obtainable, the vessel had been destroyed by an explosion against her side from without. So much was clearly proven, but they did not say by whom the evil deed was done. More than a week before that report came in, both Congress and the people had been greatly moved by the speech of Senator Proctor, describing what he had witnessed in Cuba, the scenes of starvation and horror; men, women, and children robbed of their homes, their cattle—all their earthly possessions—driven into the towns and left to starve to death in the streets.

The senator's speech made a great impression, and there were others on the same subject and in a like strain, delivered by members of the commission sent to Cuba by the New York Journal.

Some days later—on the 28th—came the report of the Court of Inquiry into the Maine catastrophe, and put an end to the patience of Congress, which had long been ready to undertake the cause of the oppressed and suffering Cubans.

It was not until noon of the 11th of April that the President's message reached Congress. In that he turned over to it the whole policy of the government toward Spain. Congress did not make a formal declaration of war with Spain until the 25th of April, but actual hostilities began on the 19th. Indeed, four days before the declaration of war the United States navy began the blockade of Cuba, and captured a vessel on the high seas.