Violet and Lulu were still alone upon the veranda where the captain had left them while he drove into the village on that first evening after their home-coming from beautiful Viamede. They had now taken possession of two easy-chairs standing close together, and were enjoying the quiet and an extended view of the well-kept grounds and the green fields and wooded hills that lay beyond.

For some moments neither had spoken; then Violet broke the silence. “Lulu, I have been thinking of that poor Mrs. McAlpine and her daughter whom you met when your father took you and Max out to the far West. Tell me something about them if you feel inclined.”

“Yes, Mamma Vi; they were refined, lovable people and I like to think and talk of them; except that it makes me sad to think what a hard, trying life they led and are yet leading, I suppose.”

“Yes, my heart bleeds for them; the poor mother especially,” sighed Violet. “Foully robbed of her husband’s love, what charm has life in this world left for her?”

“If I were in her place I’d just make up my mind not to care for him or his love, and be happy in loving my children and being loved by them!” exclaimed Lulu in indignant tones. “I’d never break my heart for such a wretch!”

“He is certainly not worth it,” was Violet’s response. “Ah, there is your father!” as a carriage turned in at the great gates opening upon the high-road.

It came swiftly up the drive, halted at the front entrance, and the captain, quickly alighting, handed out a girlish figure clad in a plain, dark dress and hat.

“Miss McAlpine, my dear, Lulu, it is your old friend Marian.”

“Welcome, my poor dear girl,” said Violet, taking Marian’s hand in a kindly pressure and giving her a kiss.

“O Marian, Marian, what a delightful surprise!” was Lulu’s greeting as she threw her arms about her friend and kissed her again and again.

“Just as I meant it should be,” the captain remarked with a pleased smile.

But Marian seemed speechless with emotion, clinging to Lulu and sobbing as if her heart would break.

“O you poor dear!” Lulu said, gently patting and stroking her, “don’t cry so bitterly; we will do all we can to make you happy. You must be very tired with your long journey, but you can rest now in this sweet home of ours.”

“Yes, take her up to the spare room nearest your own, Lulu,” said the captain, “and see that she has everything she needs.”

“And we will have her tea sent up to her,” added Violet.

“She took that in the village, my dear,” said the captain, “and as she is very weary had better get to bed as soon as she can. I see that her trunk has already been carried up.”

“O sir, how kind, how kind you are to me!” Marian exclaimed sobbingly, putting her hand into his and lifting grateful eyes to his face.

“Ah, my poor child, it would be a great delight to me could I but relieve all your sorrows,” he returned in moved tones. “That is beyond my power; but cast all your burdens on the Lord and he will sustain you, fulfilling to you his gracious promise, ‘As thy days, so shall thy strength be.’ You need rest; do not lie awake grieving, but try to obey the scriptural injunction, ‘casting all your care upon him, for he careth for you.’”

“O sir, I believe it!” Marian responded in deeply grateful tones; “for otherwise he would never have raised up such a friend as you are proving yourself to be. How shall I ever thank one who shows himself far kinder than my own father?”

“Yes, my dear girl, my good husband feels for you very much as he does for his own children when they are in trouble,” Violet said feelingly, as Marian turned to say good-night to her. “Lulu, dear,” she added, “try to make sure that your guest has everything that can add to her comfort.”

“I will, Mamma Vi,” Lulu answered in pleasant tones.

“And stay with Marian only long enough to see to that,” added the captain; “for her journey has fatigued her greatly and she needs rest more than anything else.”

“Yes, sir; we can wait till to-morrow for our talk,” Lulu replied, looking smilingly up into his face; “and I’ll come directly to you so that you will know I have obeyed the order.”

“That is right; you will find me here,” he returned.

“Oh, what a lovely home you have, Lulu!” exclaimed Marian, glancing about her as they went up the stairway.

“Yes, indeed, I think we have; and I love it dearly; but not a thousandth part as much as I do the dear father who made it for us and makes us so happy in it. This is the room he bade me bring you to, Marian,” opening a door and leading the way into a large, airy, and beautifully furnished bedroom.

“Oh, how lovely, how lovely!” exclaimed Marian. “Ah, it is much too grand for me—a poor girl who has not a dollar in the world.”

“Not a bit,” said Lulu in reply; “those who have nothing need help all the more; besides, papa does not value people for their wealth and has never taught his children to. Ah, there is your trunk! I see the men have unstrapped it. Now if you are too tired to get out the things you want for to-night, and will give me the key, I will do so for you while you sit here in this easy-chair and direct me.”

“Oh, thank you! but I feel able to wait on myself.”

“Well, you shall do exactly as you please,” returned Lulu with a smile. “I see the servants have filled your pitchers, and if you should want anything that is not here, you have only to touch this knob which rings an electric bell in the kitchen—giving it one push for cold, or two for hot water, or three for the chambermaid to come to you.”

“How very nice and convenient!” exclaimed Marian.

Lulu then explained about the light, saying she was welcome to put it out or leave it burning just as she preferred, and bidding her a kind good-night left the room. Hurrying down to the veranda, she found her father and Violet still there sitting side by side, conversing together in rather subdued tones.

“Here I am, papa,” Lulu said, approaching them.

“That is right,” he responded and drew her to a seat upon his knee. “You saw that your guest had every want supplied?” he asked, caressing her hair and cheek with his hand as he spoke.

“Yes, sir. O papa, tell me all about it, please.”

“All about what?” he asked with a smile, holding her close and pressing a kiss upon her lips.

“About Marian, sir. Did you know she was coming? and was it just to get her you drove into the village?”

“One question at a time, my child,” he returned with an amused look. “Yes, I knew she was coming. I had found a letter from her on my library table telling me so, and reminding me of the invitation you heard me give her just before leaving Minersville, to apply to me for help should the time ever come when she would need a friend able and willing to aid her.”

“Oh, yes, papa, I remember it, and I don’t think anybody could find a better friend than my dear father when in need of one.”

“Well, I found the letter, read it to your Mamma Vi, then drove into the village for Marian, leaving for you the pleasure of being taken by surprise on seeing her return with me.”

“And a very pleasant surprise it was, papa. Is she going to stay? and oh, what has become of her poor mother and the boys? I suppose she told you all about them as you drove back from the village?”

“More than two questions at once this time,” laughed her father. “I will try to answer them in turn. She is likely to stay with us for the present at least. Her mother and all the younger children, except Sandy, are dead; the little ones dying of diphtheria, the mother of grief and the fatigue from nursing them through their illness. Sandy is working his way with a farmer for the present; the father attempted to force Marian into a match with a Mormon thirty or forty years older than herself, and she, by running away, barely escaped a fate that she esteemed far worse than death.”

“Oh, poor thing!” cried Lulu. “How glad I am that I have a father who would never force me to leave him for anybody else,” clinging still closer to him as she spoke.

“Never, no, never, my own precious child!” he returned with emotion. “But you are still far too young even to be thinking of such a thing.”

“Yes, I know that, papa, and I’m glad of it. I like to be a little girl that nobody wants to get away from her father.”

“Then we are both satisfied.”

“Papa, is Marian going to live here with us?” she asked.

“Nothing is decided yet,” he replied, “but it will depend upon circumstances. Would you wish it, daughter?”

She hesitated a little, then said: “If you and Mamma Vi want her here, papa, I would not like to stand in the way of her having such a sweet home, but—it’s so delightful to have our dear home to ourselves; just you and Mamma Vi and us children.”

“So your mamma and I think,” he returned with a gratified look; “and very possibly Marian herself would prefer some other plan, for I perceive she is of a very independent disposition. I have learned that it is her desire and purpose to earn her own living, and I think the kindest thing I can do will be to help her fit herself for whatever work she may think best suited to her talents and inclination.”

“O papa, take her for one of your pupils, won’t you?” cried Lulu in her most eager, coaxing tones.

“If she wishes it, and can be located in the near neighborhood,” he said.

“Oh, I have a thought!” exclaimed Lulu. “Why can’t she live with Mrs. Allen and Susie at the cottage?”

“Ah, that strikes me as a very good suggestion,” the captain replied. “What do you think of it, Violet, my dear?”

“I highly approve,” returned Violet, “unless it may crowd them too much.”

“Ah, in that case I can easily add another room, or two of them if deemed desirable,” he said. “They might stand a little crowding for a time, till they satisfy themselves as to their congeniality of disposition—for even good people sometimes find that they are more comfortable apart than thrown constantly together; and that having been satisfactorily proved, I would make the addition. But we need decide nothing in regard to these matters to-night. There is the bell for prayers, after which Lulu must go to her nest, and you and I, my dear, will, I think, be ready for ours.”

When the short service was over, Lulu bade Violet good-night; then turning to her father, asked, “Must I say it to you too now, papa?”

“No, daughter,” he replied. “I will step in your room for a moment when you are about ready for bed. I suppose it would hardly do to omit it on the first night after our return from our wanderings,” he added, smoothing her hair caressingly as she stood by his side.

“No, indeed, sir,” she returned with an earnestness that made him smile; “and please do not think it will do at any time; unless you are sick or have some company you cannot leave to give me even a minute. Ah, how thankful I ought to be, and am, that my father is so different from poor Marian’s!”

“Yes, indeed,” said Violet. “Marian, poor girl, is greatly to be pitied; so let us all be as kind to her as possible.”

“Yes, Mamma Vi; and I think it will be my place to stay with her to-morrow, though I shall be very sorry to miss spending the afternoon and evening with the rest of you at Ion.”

“You dear girl, you shall do no such thing,” returned Violet with an affectionate smile into Lulu’s eyes. “I will speak to mamma through the telephone to-morrow morning, and I am sure she will give Marian a cordial invitation to make one of the family party.”

“I do not doubt it, my dear,” said Captain Raymond, “but in her fatigue and grief Marian would, I think, prefer to spend the day here in rest and sleep; nor will there be any occasion for Lulu to deny herself the pleasure of going with the rest of us to Ion, or us the pleasure of having her along,” again laying a caressing hand upon her head and smiling down affectionately into the bright dark eyes lifted lovingly to his. “Now go, daughter, to your room. I want you to have a good night’s rest that you may enjoy the pleasures of to-morrow to the full.”