Captain Raymond had foreseen the probability that his son would be
subjected to such an ordeal, and had tried—successfully as the event
proved—to prepare him for it.
Max was busy with his preparations for bed on the previous night, when
his door opened and his father came in.
“Well, my boy,” he said in his usual kind, fatherly tones, “I hope you
have had a happy day and evening?”
“Yes, papa; oh yes, indeed! Never had a more splendid time in all my
life!”
“In all your long life of thirteen years!” laughed the captain, seating
himself and regarding his son with a proud, fond look.
“No, sir; and such splendid presents as you and the rest have given
me! Why, I’d be the most ungrateful fellow in the world if I wasn’t as
happy as a king!”
“Happy as a king?” echoed his father. “Ah, my boy, I should be sorry
indeed to think that your life was to be less happy than that of most
monarchs. ‘Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.’
“I want to have a little chat with you,” he resumed, after a moment’s
silence, his countenance and the tones of his voice much graver than
they had been a moment since. “I heard to-day that Ralph Conly, who
exerted so bad an influence over my son some time ago, is to make one
of the party at the Oaks.”
“Is he, papa? then I suppose you have come to tell me you can’t let me
go?” Max returned, in a tone of keen disappointment.
“No,” said his father, kindly, “I do not withdraw the consent I
have given; you may go, but I want you to be on your guard against
temptation to do wrong. I am told Ralph professes to have reformed, but
I fear it may prove to be only profession, and that he and others may
try to lead my son astray from the paths of rectitude.”
Max looked very sober for a moment; then said with an effort, “I’ll
give up going papa, if you wish it—if you’re afraid for me.”
“Thank you, my boy,” returned his father, heartily, taking the lad’s
hand, as he stood by his side, and pressing it with affectionate
warmth, “but I won’t ask such self-denial. You must meet temptation
some time, and if you go trusting in a strength not your own, I believe
you will come off conqueror.
“Don’t let persuasion, sneers or ridicule induce you to do violence to
your conscience, in either shirking a known duty, or taking part in
any wrong or doubtful amusement. Remember it would go nigh to break
your father’s heart to learn that you had been drinking, gambling, or
taking God’s holy name in vain.”
“Oh, papa, I hope I shall never, never do such wicked things again!”
Max said with emotion, calling to mind how he had once fallen under
Ralph’s influence.
“I know you don’t intend to,” his father said, “and I trust you will
have strength given you to resist, if the temptation comes; but I know
too, that it is very difficult for a boy to stand out against the
sneers, ridicule and contempt of his mates. But how much better to have
the smile and approval of God, your heavenly Father, than that of any
number of human creatures! Do not be like those chief rulers among the
Jews who would not confess Christ because they loved the praise of men
more than the praise of God!”
“No, papa, I hope I shall not. Besides, I don’t care half so much for
the good opinion of all the boys in the land as for yours,” he added,
gazing into his father’s face with eyes brimming over with ardent
filial love and reverence. “I am proud to be your son, papa, and I do
hope you’ll never have cause to be ashamed of me.”
“No, my boy, I trust you will be always, as now, your father’s joy and
pride,” responded the captain, again pressing affectionately the hand
he held. “Rest assured that nothing but wrong doing on your part can
ever make you any thing else. Nor would even that rob you of his love.”
“Then, papa, I think I shall never try to hide my faults from you,”
returned the lad with impulsive warmth; “for I’m sure a fellow feels a
great deal more comfortable when he isn’t trying to make believe to his
father that he is a better boy than he is really.”
“Yes; when his effort is not merely to seem, but to be all that he
knows his best earthly friend would have him. You needn’t stand in awe
of me, Max, as of one who knows nothing by experience of sinning and
repenting. I sometimes think you are a better boy than I was at your
age, and I hope to see you grow up to be a better man than I am now.”
“Why, papa, I never see you do wrong, and I don’t believe you ever do,”
said Max.
“I do try to live right, Max,” his father answered, “to keep the
commands of God, honoring him in all my ways, and setting a good
example to my children, but I am conscious of many shortcomings, and
could have no hope of heaven but for the atoning blood and imputed
righteousness of Christ.”
“And that’s the only way any body can be saved?” Max said in a low
tone between inquiry and assertion.
“Yes, my boy; for all human righteousnesses are as filthy rags in the
sight of Him who is of purer eyes than to behold evil, and can not look
upon iniquity.”
“Papa,” Max said, after a moment’s thoughtful silence, “I’m afraid you
wouldn’t think it from the way I act and talk, but I have really been
trying to be a Christian ever since that time when I wrote you that I
hoped I had given myself to God.”
“My dear boy, I have noticed your efforts,” was the kindly response; “I
see that you try to control your temper, and are always truthful, and
obedient and respectful to me, kind and obliging to others.”
“But you know, papa, it’s only a few weeks since you came home, and you
haven’t found me out yet,” replied Max, näively. “I’ve often a very
hard fight with myself to go right, and sometimes I fail in spite of
it; then I grow discouraged; and so I’m ever so much obliged to you
for telling me that it’s a good deal the same way with you. It makes
a fellow feel better, you see, to find out that even those he respects
the most don’t always find it easy to do and feel just as they want to.”
“Yes, my boy, we have the same battle to fight—you and I—the same race
to run; so we can sympathize with each other, and must try to be
fellow-helpers.”
“You can help me, papa, but how can I help you?” asked Max, with a look
of surprise, not unmixed with gratification.
“By being a good son to me and your mamma, and a good brother to your
sisters; if you are all that, you can not fail to be a very great help,
blessing and comfort to me. But best of all, Max, you can pray for me.”
“Oh, papa, I do; I never forget you night or morning; but——”
“Well?”
“I—I’m afraid my prayers are not worth much.”
“Why not, my son? the Bible tells us God is no respecter of persons,
but is ready to hear and answer all who come to him in the name of his
dear Son, who is the one mediator between God and men. If you ask in
his name—for his sake—you are as likely to receive as I or any one else.
“Now I must bid you good-night, for it is high time you were asleep.”
The next evening, about the time the good-nights were being said at the
Oaks, Captain Raymond left Lulu, who had just passed a very happy half
hour, seated on his knee, in her own little sitting-room, and went down
to the parlor where Violet was entertaining her guests.
There was quite a number of them, though it was only a family
gathering. Mr. and Mrs. Dinsmore, from Ion; Grandma Elsie, as Evelyn
and the Raymond children called her; Lester Leland and his Elsie;
Edward and Zoe, and Herbert and Harold, who were at home from college
for the Christmas holidays, beside the Lacey’s from the Laurels,
several of the Howards of Pine Grove, and Calhoun and Arthur Conley
from Roselands.
Violet looked up with a welcoming smile as her husband came in, and
made room for him on the sofa by her side.
“I was just telling Lester and Elsie,” she said, “how beautifully Lulu
is behaving—bearing so well the disappointment about her invitation to
the Oaks, and showing such devotion to Gracie in her sickness.”
“Yes, she is a dear child, and well deserving of reward,” he said,
feelingly. “It pained me to deny her the pleasure of sharing the
festivities at the Oaks, though as matters have turned out she would
not have gone had I given permission—loving Gracie, too dearly to leave
her while she is not well—and I have been thinking whether it may not
be made up to her by allowing her to have a party of her own next week:
inviting her young friends who are now at the Oaks, and perhaps some
others, to come here on Monday and stay until Saturday. Does the idea
meet your approval, my dear?”
“Yes, indeed!” cried Violet, looking really delighted! “how happy it
would make her and Max? Gracie, too, I think, if we can only get her
well enough to have a share in the sports.”
“And, I believe,” she added with a laugh, “I am child enough yet to
enjoy it greatly myself.”
“I hope so,” her husband said, smiling fondly upon her; “you are
looking full young enough for mirth and jollity, and must not allow
yourself to grow old too fast in an endeavor to match your years with
mine.”
“No, captain, the better plan would be for you to match yours with hers
by growing young,” said Zoe, laughingly. “Can’t you turn boy again for
a few days?”
“I should not be averse to so doing,” laughed the captain. “I’ll see
what I can do, Sister Zoe. May we look to you for some assistance in
the work of contriving amusements?”
“Yes, indeed; if you give me an invitation to the party. I was not
favored with one to the Oaks, you know, because of being a married
woman; though Ella Conly was, in spite of her superiority of years.”
“Too bad!” returned the captain, gallantly; “but we will not draw the
line just where they did; all the present company will please consider
themselves invited for each evening’s entertainment, mothers and all
under twenty-five, for the whole time—from Monday morning to Saturday
afternoon. I am taking for granted that my wife approves and joins me
in the invitations,” he added, turning smilingly to her.
“Oh, yes; yes, indeed!” she said; “I hope you will all come.”
There was a chorus of thanks and acceptances, some only partial or
conditional.
“I promise you I’ll be here when I can,” Arthur said; “but you know
a doctor can seldom or never be sure of having his time at his own
disposal.”
“You’ll be heartily welcome whenever you do come,” responded the
captain; “but please take notice that you will be expected to be quite
as much of a boy as your host.”
“No objection to that condition,” returned Arthur, smiling; “if I don’t
out-do you in that, it shall be no fault of mine.”
“The next thing in order, I suppose, will be to consider how our young
guests are to be feasted and amused,” remarked Violet.
“Yes,” replied her husband; “but my wife is to be burdened with no care
or responsibility in regard to either. Christine and I will see to the
first—preparations for the feasting—and I imagine there will be no
trouble about the other; the children themselves will probably have a
number of suggestions to make.”
“Some of the older ones, too,” said Zoe, eagerly; and went on to
mention quite a list of games.
“Besides, we can act charades and get up tableaux; and oh, let us
try something I read about the other day in Miss Yonge’s ‘The Three
Brides,’ a magic case with a Peri distributing gifts, oriental genii,
turbaned figures, like princes in the ‘Arabian Nights,’ singing and
piano accompaniment. Oh, it would be fun, and delight the children, I’m
sure! And I know we could manage it all among us very easily.”
“It sounds charming,” said Violet; “we must study it out and see what
we can do. Shall we not, Levis?”
“I like the idea very much, so far as I understand it,” he said. “Who
will volunteer to take part?”
“Zoe and I may be counted on,” said Edward, with a smiling glance at
his young wife.
“And Herbert and I,” added Harold. “We’ve had some experience, and it’s
a sort of thing we enjoy.”
“Yes, and we’ll help with the charades and any thing else, if we’re
wanted,” said Herbert.
But it was growing late, so further arrangements were deferred to
the next day, and the company presently separated for the night. The
Lelands and Edward and Zoe remained in the house; the rest departed to
their homes.
“Why, Gracie; here before me, though you’re the sick one!” exclaimed
Lulu, as, early the next morning, she entered the little sitting-room
they shared between them and found her sister lying on the sofa ready
dressed for the day.
“Yes,” Grace said, “I was so tired of bed, and Agnes said she would
help me dress before mamma’s bell should ring. So I let her; but I’m
tired and have to lie down again a little bit.”
“Yes; you’re not nearly strong enough to sit up all day yet,” returned
Lulu, stooping over her to give her a kiss. “But you’ve been crying,
haven’t you? your eyes look like it.”
Grace nodded, hastily brushing away a tear.
“Why, what’s the matter?” asked Lulu, in surprise. “I can’t think of
any thing to make you cry, unless it’s pain; are you in pain, dear?”
Grace shook her head. “No, Lu, but,” sobbing, “I—I’ve been thinking
’bout that time I was so naughty, meddling with mamma’s things, and—and
oh, you know the rest.”
“Yes, but why does it trouble you now? it was all over such a long time
ago.”
“Yes, but papa doesn’t know about it, and—oughtn’t I to tell him?”
“I don’t know,” Lulu said reflectively; “but you needn’t be afraid; he
wouldn’t punish you after this long while, especially as Mamma Vi knew
all about it at the time, and punished you herself.”
“Such a little bit of a punishment for such a wicked thing,” Grace
said; “papa would have punished me a great deal harder, I’m most sure.”
“But he won’t now; so you needn’t be afraid to tell him.”
“But he’d look so sorry, and I can’t bear to see my dear papa look
sorry for something I did.”
“Then don’t tell him. It isn’t as if it had happened just the other
day.”
“But, Lulu, I oughtn’t to let him think I’m a better girl than I am.”
“Maybe he doesn’t. You _are_ a good girl; a great deal better than I
am.”
“No, I’m not; you would never, never do the wicked thing I did. But I’m
afraid papa thinks I’m better, ’cause when—when he thought the baby was
going to die, he was hugging me up and kissing me, and he said ‘You
never gave me a pang except by your feeble health,’ and I said I didn’t
ever want to, and I forgot all about how bad I’d been that time, and
that papa didn’t know about it.”
“What is it that papa didn’t know about, my darling?” asked a voice
close beside the sofa, and both little girls started in surprise, for
their father had come in so quietly, his slippered feet making no noise
on the carpet, that they had not been aware of his entrance.
He took Grace in his arms as he spoke, sat down with her on his knee,
drew Lulu to a seat by his side, then kissed them both, saying in
tender tones, “Good-morning, my two dear children.”
“Good-morning, my dear papa,” responded Lulu, leaning her cheek
affectionately against his shoulder.
But Gracie only hid her face on his breast with a little half-stifled
sob.
“What is it, my precious one?” he asked, holding her close with loving
caresses.
“Lu, you tell papa; please do,” she sobbed.
“Lulu may tell it, if you want papa to hear it,” he said, softly
smoothing her hair, “otherwise it need not be told at all. But if it is
about some wrong-doing that has been repented of and confessed to God
and mamma, you need not dread to have your father know of it, for he,
too, has been guilty of wrong-doing many times in his life, and needs
to seek forgiveness of God every day and every hour.”
“Papa,” she exclaimed, lifting her head to give him a look of
astonishment not unmingled with relief, “I don’t know how to b’lieve
that, if you didn’t say it your own self; for I never, _never_ see you
do any thing wrong. But I want you to know ’bout this, so you won’t
think I’m a better girl than I am. Lu, please tell,” and again her face
was hidden on his breast.
“Papa, it was a long, long, while ago,” began Lulu, as if eager to
vindicate her sister as far as possible, “and it was only that she
accidentally broke a bottle of Mamma Vi’s, and then she was frightened
(you know she’s always so timid, and can’t help it), and so,’most
before she knew what she was saying, she told Mamma Vi she never
meddled with her things when she was not there to see her.”
There was a moment’s silence, broken only by Grace’s sobs, which were
now quite violent.
Then her father said low and tenderly, “My dear little daughter, I can
not comfort you by making light of your sin; lying is a very great sin,
one that the Bible speaks very strongly against in very many places;
but I have no doubt that you long ago repented, confessed it to God and
received forgiveness. And I trust you will prove the sincerity of your
repentance by being perfectly truthful all the rest of your days.
“It was very honest and right in you to want me to know that you have
not always been so good as I supposed; and so, my darling, I love you,
if possible, better than ever,” he added, caressing her again and again.
“Oh, I’m so glad to hear you say that, papa!” exclaimed Lulu, looking
up into his face with shining eyes.
“And you are no less dear than your sister,” he said, drawing her
closer to his side. “My child, I have felt very sorry over your
disappointment in missing the festivities at the Oaks, and have been
trying to think of some way to make it up to you. How would you like to
have something of the same sort here at home? a party of children and
young people to come next Monday morning and stay till Saturday?”
“Oh papa,” cried Lulu, opening her eyes very wide in surprise and
delight, “it ’most takes my breath away! Do you really mean it?”
“I do indeed,” he said, smiling on her. “It will be your, and Max’s and
Gracie’s party, and we older folks will do all in our power to make the
time pass pleasantly to you and your guests. We will have games and
charades, tableaux, stories, and every thing delightful that can be
thought of.”
“O papa! how very, very nice! how splendid!” cried Lulu, springing to
her feet, clapping her hands, and then jumping and dancing round the
room. “Dear me! I’d never once dreamed of such a thing! And it’ll be
ever so much nicer than going to the Oaks. I’m glad you didn’t let me
go: because I couldn’t be there now and get things ready for my own
party too, and it’s so much splendider to be the one to have the party
than one of the visitors. Isn’t it! won’t it be, Gracie? Oh isn’t papa
just the best and kindest father in the world?”
“’Course he is,” said Grace, putting her arm round his neck, and
lifting her eyes to his with a very grateful, loving look.
“Does it give you pleasure, papa’s dear pet?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” she answered with some hesitation; “if I don’t be sick when
they’re here, and if I may sit on your knee sometimes.”
“Indeed you may,” he said; “and papa will try to take care that his
feeble little girl has nothing to tire her.”
“No, she needn’t entertain,” said Lulu; “I can do it for both of us. Oh
it is so nice, so _nice_, so perfectly _splendid_, to think we’re going
to have a real party of our own for several days together!” she cried,
again clapping her hands, jumping, dancing and pirouetting round the
room.
Grace laughed at the sight, and so did their father.
“Why, Lulu, daughter,” he said, “you seem to be going quite wild over
the prospect! I am very glad indeed to have hit upon something that
gives you such pleasure. But come here; I have something more to tell
you about it.”
“Oh, have you, papa?” she cried, running to him to put her arm round
his neck and kiss him again and again; “what is it?”
“Ah,” he returned, laughing, “I doubt if it is well to tell you; you
are so nearly crazy already.”
“Oh, yes, do tell me please. I won’t get any crazier; at least I don’t
think I shall, I’ll try not to.”
So he told her of Zoe’s suggestion, and that he intended it should be
carried out.
A conservatory opened from one of the parlors, and there, he said, they
would have the magic cave.
“Oh papa, _how_ lovely, how _lovely_!” both little girls exclaimed,
their eyes sparkling and their cheeks flushing with delighted
anticipation.
“That entertainment will be for New Year’s Eve,” he said, “and the
Peri must have a present for each one who visits her case. That will
necessitate a shopping expedition to the city to-day or to-morrow.
Lulu, would you like to be one of the purchasers? shall I take you to
the stores with me?”
“Oh!” she cried half breathlessly, “wouldn’t I like it? But,” with a
sudden sobering down of demeanor and a tender look into the face of her
little sister, “I—I can’t leave Gracie, papa, she would miss me and be
so lonesome without me.”
“But I could stand it for one day, Lu; and I couldn’t bear to have you
miss such fun—such a good time—just for me,” said Grace, with winning
sweetness.
“And Mamma Vi will contrive that she shall not be lonely,” the captain
said, drawing them both closer into his arms.
“The mutual love of my little girls is a great joy to me,” he added,
caressing them in turn.
Just then a servant came in bringing Gracie’s breakfast.
She ate it sitting on her father’s knee, while Lulu, standing
alongside, kept up a lively strain of talk on the all-absorbing theme
of the hour. She had a good many questions to ask too, and they were
all answered by her father with unfailing patience and kindness.
The proposed festivities were the principal topic of conversation at
the family breakfast, also; for the ladies were deeply interested, the
gentlemen not quite indifferent.
The storm had passed, the morning was fine, and the captain announced
his intention to drive into the city, starting within an hour, winding
up with the query, “which of you ladies will volunteer to go along, and
assist in this important shopping?”
“Zoe would enjoy it, I am sure, and you could not have a more competent
helper,” Violet said, smiling kindly into the eager face of her young
sister-in-law.
“I should not object, if I can be of service,” said Zoe, “but don’t
you want to go yourself, Vi? I haven’t a doubt that the captain would
prefer your company to any other.”
“I think I should abide by the stuff,” returned Violet in a lively
tone, “or rather by the little ones, baby and Gracie. Lulu must go with
her papa—I would not have her miss it for a great deal—and I am eager
to make the day a happy one to Gracie in spite of the absence of her
devoted sister-nurse,” she added with an affectionate glance and smile
in Lulu’s direction.
“Oh, Mamma Vi, thank you ever so much!” exclaimed the little girl. “I
do think it will be just splendid to go with papa and help choose the
things, but I couldn’t bear to leave Gracie alone.”
“You are a dear, good sister, Lulu,” remarked Mrs. Elsie Leland. “It
does one good to see how you and Gracie love one another.”
“Thank you, Aunt Elsie,” said Lulu, flushing with gratification; then
catching the look of proud, fond affection with which her father was
regarding her, she colored still more deeply, while her heart bounded
with joy. It was so sweet to know that he loved her so dearly and was
not ashamed of her, faulty as she felt herself to be.
“Yes,” he said, “their mutual affection is a constant source of
happiness to their father. I pity the parent whose children are not
kind and affectionate to each other.
“Well, Mrs. Zoe,” turning smilingly to her, “am I to have the pleasure
of your company today, and the benefit of your assistance and advice in
the selection of the ornaments and gifts necessary or desirable for the
successful carrying-out of your proposed entertainment?”
“Thank you; I shall be delighted to go and to give all the assistance
in my power,” she answered. “That is if Ned is willing to spare me,”
she added, turning to him with a merry, mischievous look and smile.
“I don’t think I can,” he said, in a sober, meditative tone, “but if the
captain is sufficiently anxious to secure your valuable services to
take me too, my consent shall not be withheld.”
“Then it’s a bargain,” laughed the captain, and Lulu’s eyes sparkled.
She was saying to herself, “Then I shall be sure to sit beside papa;
because they always want to be together; so they’ll take one seat in
the carriage, and we’ll have the other.”