The _Dolphin's_ passengers greatly enjoyed their voyage up the
Atlantic coast, yet were not sorry when they reached their desired
haven--the city within a few miles of their homes.
Dr. Percival had gained strength every day and now could go about very
well with the help of a friend's arm or a cane, and spent but a part
of his time lounging in an easy-chair or resting upon a couch.
A telegram had carried to their home friends the information that they
expected to reach port on that day, and carriages were there in
waiting to convey them to their several places of abode.
Dr. Conly had come for Dr. and Mrs. Percival, as had also Mr. Dinsmore
from the Oaks; the one claiming that Roselands was Dick's old home,
therefore undoubtedly the proper place for him at present--the other
that Maud belonged at the Oaks and of course her husband with her.
Grandma Elsie had already given them a warm invitation to Ion, and
Captain Raymond and Violet the same to Woodburn. It seemed a little
difficult to decide which had the prior claim. Dr. Harold said it
should be Ion first in order that he might still have his patient
where he could keep continued and careful watch over him; and as he
grew better and stronger the others could have their turns at
entertaining him and Maud.
To that Dick laughingly replied that he was now tolerably used to
obeying Harold's orders, so should submit to his decision, still
hoping that in time he and Maud might have the pleasure of accepting
the other invitations in turn.
That seemed to give tolerable satisfaction as about as good an
arrangement as could well be made.
The Beechwood and Woodburn family carriages and Max's pony were there,
also the carriage from Fairview for Evelyn. Max helped her into it,
then mounted his steed and rode alongside, the Woodburn carriage
driving a little ahead of them, while the other vehicles were somewhat
in their rear.
All reached their destinations in safety, each party receiving a
joyful welcome on their arrival. Chester, after a brief but
affectionate good-by, "for a short time," to Lucilla, had taken a seat
in Mr. Dinsmore's carriage, as he and his brother still made their
home at the Oaks. Both pairs of lovers had greatly enjoyed their daily
intercourse upon the _Dolphin_ and gave that up with some feeling of
regret, but comforted themselves with the thought that twenty-four
hours would seldom pass without allowing them at least a brief
interview.
Bidding good-by to Eva at the gate into Fairview Avenue, Max rode
rapidly onward and entered the Woodburn grounds just in the rear of
his father's carriage, then dismounted at the veranda in time to take
part in assisting the ladies and children to alight.
"Oh, how delightful it is to be at home again!" exclaimed Grace,
dancing about and gazing this way and that into the beautifully kept
grounds. "I am always glad to go, but still gladder to get back."
"And so am I," "And I," exclaimed the younger ones.
"And I am as glad as anybody else, I think," said Max, "though I
should not be if I were here alone--without father, Mamma Vi, and the
sisters and little brother."
"No, indeed! the dear ones make more than half of home," Lucilla said
with a loving glance around upon the others, then one of ardent
affection up into her father's face.
"Yes," said Grace, "father alone is more than half of home to each and
every one of us."
An assertion which no one was in the least inclined to contradict.
"He certainly is to me--his wife," said Violet, giving him a look that
spoke volumes of respect and love.
"And I certainly know of no man who has less reason to complain of the
lack of appreciation by his nearest and dearest," responded the
captain in tones slightly tremulous with feeling, and a look of fond,
proud affection, first at his wife, then at his children, each in
turn.
"This is certainly a happy home-coming to us all," said Max, "to me in
especial, I think, as the one who has seen so little of it for years
past. It is to me the dearest spot on earth; though it would not be
without the dear ones it holds."
But housekeeper and servants had now come crowding about with glad
greetings, which were warmly returned, and then the family scattered
to their rooms to prepare for the dinner just ready to be served.
All our returned travellers were received with joyful greetings at
their homes, not excepting Dr. Harold Travilla at Ion; and all there
seemed to rejoice that they were to be the first to entertain the
cousins--Dr. Percival and Maud. They were warmly welcomed and speedily
installed in most comfortable quarters--a suite of beautifully
furnished apartments--on the ground floor, that Dick might be spared
the exertion of going up and down even the easiest flight of stairs.
They were more than content.
"We seem to have come into a haven of rest, Maud, my love," Dick
remarked as he lay back in his reclining chair, and gazed about with
eyes that kindled with joy and admiration.
"Yes, my dear," laughed Maud, "it would seem almost appropriate to put
another letter into that noun and call it a heaven--so beautiful and
tasteful is everything around us."
"Yes; I wish everybody had as good, kind, capable, and helpful friends
and relatives as ours, and as able to give them such royal
entertainment."
"Cousin Elsie is the very person to have large means," said Maud, "for
she seems to be always thinking of others and what she can do for
their comfort and happiness. There is not a particle of selfishness or
self-righteousness about her."
"I heartily agree with you there," said Dick. "I have known her since
I was the merest child and she has always seemed to live to do good
and show kindness to all around her. She evidently looks upon her
wealth as simply a trust--something the Lord has put into her hands to
be used for his glory and the good of her fellow creatures."
"I am sure you are right about that," said Maud. "And her children
resemble her in it. What could have exceeded the kindness of Cousins
Harold and Herbert--Cousin Arthur Conly, too--when you were so ill?
Oh, Dick dear, I thought I was going to lose you! Oh, how could I ever
have borne that?" she added with a sob; "and I am sure you and I owe
your life to their skilful treatment, their untiring care and
devotion."
"We do indeed," he said with emotion; "but for their untiring efforts
and God's blessing upon them I should now be under the sod--and my
darling a widow," he added tenderly and in quivering tones, drawing
her down to give her a fond caress. "And how kind Vi and her husband
have been," he went on. "The captain is a grand good man and quite as
anxious to use all he has for the glory of God and the good of his
fellow creatures as dear Cousin Elsie herself."
"Yes; I don't wonder his wife and children love him so dearly; and I
could hardly love him better were he my own brother," said Maud. "I am
so glad he and Cousin Violet fancied each other and married when they
did."
"Yes, they are the most enjoyable of relatives to us and very happy in
each other."
Here their bit of chat was interrupted by a tap on the door opening
into the hall. Dr. Harold had come to say that dinner was on the
table, and ask if his patient felt able, and if it would be enjoyable
to join the family at their meal.
"Indeed I should like it," was Dick's prompt response, "and I think
too that I am entirely equal to the exertion."
"Perhaps even with only your cane, if I give you the support of my
arm," suggested Harold.
"Thank you, yes," returned Dick, with a pleased look, as Harold
assisted him to rise and Maud handed him his cane.
So the little journey was made successfully and the social meal
greatly enjoyed. At its conclusion Harold assisted Dr. Percival to his
couch again, where he lay down, just weary enough to take a long,
refreshing nap.
On leaving the table, Grandma Elsie went to the telephone and called
to Woodburn. Violet answered, "What is it, mother?" and received the
reply, "I expect the whole connection here to take tea and spend the
evening, and I want you all to come."
The captain, standing near, heard the message also, and as Violet
turned inquiringly to him, "Surely there is nothing to prevent any of
us from going," he said, and she at once answered, "Thank you, mother,
you may expect us all."
The same invitation had been already sent to, and accepted by, the
others, and some time before the tea hour they were all there, glad to
meet and exchange greetings, and chat about all that had occurred
since they last saw each other. And Dr. Percival, refreshed and
strengthened by his dinner and a long, sound sleep after it, was able
to enjoy it all, perhaps as keenly as anyone else. They talked of
whatever had occurred among them during the time that they had been
separated, and of their plans for the coming heated term--who would
pass it at home and who go North to find a cooler climate. But it was
not necessary to decide fully upon their plans, as some weeks must
elapse ere carrying them out and there would be a good deal of
intercourse among them in the meantime.
They scattered to their homes early in the evening that Dr. Percival
might not be kept up or awake, and that the little ones might be
safely and in good season bestowed in their nests for the night.
Dr. Percival improved rapidly in the next few weeks; so rapidly that
he was able to make a visit to Roselands, the Oaks, and Woodburn, each
in turn, and felt that he should greatly enjoy the journey to the
North and the sojourn by the seaside there which awaited him, his
wife, and friends.
Our two pairs of lovers went quietly and happily on with their
courting, considered plans for future house-building and housekeeping,
and what should be done and enjoyed in the meantime, and it seemed but
a little while till they were again on board the _Dolphin_ and
speeding on their northward course.
It was the same party that had come in her on that last voyage from
the South. Max was still in the enjoyment of his furlough and by his
father's request now took command of the vessel; but, the weather
being fine throughout the voyage, his duties were not arduous and
Evelyn had no reason to complain of want of attention from her fiance.
Nor had Lucilla; Chester being seldom absent from her side during the
day or evening. So that Captain Raymond began to feel at times that he
was already losing--to some extent--his eldest daughter. He sighed
over it to himself, but made no complaint to either of them.
Lucilla's affection for him did not seem to have suffered any
abatement; as had been her custom, she often came to him for a bit of
private chat early in the morning or in the evening after the others
had gone to their staterooms; and in these private interviews she was
the same ardently affectionate daughter she had been for years; so
that he felt he had no reason to fear that her lover had stolen all
her heart.
But she was very keen-sighted as regarded him and his feelings toward
her. One evening as, according to his custom, he paced the deck after
all the passengers had retired for the night, he heard her light step
at his side and then her voice asking in its sweetest tones, "Papa
dear, mayn't I walk with you for at least a few minutes? I am neither
sleepy nor tired, and it is so seldom now that I can have my own dear
father all to myself."
"Yes, daughter dear," he said, putting an arm about her and caressing
her with tenderness. "I am very glad to have your company if it is not
going to weary you or rob you of needed sleep." Then he drew her hand
within his arm and they paced slowly back and forth, conversing in
subdued tones.
"It is so sweet to be alone with you once in a while, my own dear
father," she said. "I think, papa, if my engagement has made any
change in my feelings toward you it has been to make you seem to me
nearer and dearer, if possible, than ever. Oh, I think it would break
my heart if I should ever have to go so far away from you that I could
not see and talk with you every day!"
"Dear child, those are sweet words to my ear," he said in moved tones,
"and I am most thankful that, so far as we can see into the future,
there seems little or no danger that we will ever be so separated in
this world."
"Yes, papa; that assurance is one of my greatest joys. And I am so
glad that my dear father is so strong and well, and not so very old,"
she added with a smile and a look of loving admiration up into his
face.
"I am not very young, daughter," he returned pleasantly, "though I
think my natural strength has not abated, and life seems as enjoyable
to me as ever. But the happy thought is that God our heavenly Father
rules and reigns and shall choose all our changes for us; for to his
wisdom and love there is no limit. How sweet are the words, 'I have
loved thee with an everlasting love,' 'As the Father hath loved me, so
have I loved you.' If we are his children we need not fear to trust
our all in his hands. We need not desire to choose for ourselves as
regards the things of this life, or the time when he shall call us to
our heavenly home."
"That is a very sweet thought, father," she said. "What a care and
anxiety it would be to us to have to choose all those changes for
ourselves. How kind in the dear Lord Jesus to bid his disciples to
take no thought--which you have explained to me means no care or
anxiety--for the morrow--telling them that 'Sufficient unto the day is
the evil thereof.'"
"Yes; and when troubled with cares and fears for the future we may be
sure that it is because we are lacking in that faith which trusts all
in his hands."
"Oh, I want that faith!" she exclaimed earnestly, though her voice was
low and sweet. "Papa, pray for me that I may have it."
"I will, daughter, I do," he said; "there is nothing I desire more
strongly for you and all my dear children than that."
They were silent for a moment, then she asked, "Where are we now,
papa? and to what port bound as the first?"
"We are nearing Delaware Bay," he replied, "and expect to pass up it
and the river to Philadelphia, where we will add Grandpa and Grandma
Dinsmore to our party, then come down and round the southern part of
New Jersey and on up the eastern coast to Atlantic City. Rooms have
been engaged for us at Haddon Hall and there we purpose staying for
perhaps a fortnight, then we think of going on up the New England
coast, perhaps as far as Bar Harbor in Maine."
"Oh, I like that plan," she said; "for we have never yet visited
either of those places, and I have wanted to see them both."
"I shall be glad to give you that pleasure, daughter," he said. "Now
it is high time you were in bed and asleep; so bid me good-night and
go."
Our travellers reached Philadelphia the next day, took on board Mr.
and Mrs. Dinsmore, passed down the river and bay again, and up the
Atlantic coast to the city of that name, as the captain had planned.
They were charmed with their quarters; rooms near the sea--looking out
directly upon it--with a private porch where they could sit and enjoy
the breeze and an extended view of the ocean, watching the vessels
pass and repass, outward bound or coming from distant ports to the
harbors farther up the coast. Strolling along the broad plank walk,
four miles in length and close to the sea, was another pleasure; as
were also the driving down on the beach at low tide, and the little
excursions out to Longport and other adjacent villages.
Most of the days were spent in making these little trips--sometimes in
carriages, at others in the electric cars--and the evenings in
wandering by moonlight along the board walk.
There were various places of innocent amusement too--such as the
Japanese garden and the piers, where seals and other curiosities were
on exhibition.
They found the table excellent and everything about the establishment
homelike, neat, and refined, and their hostess so agreeable, so
charming, that their only regret was that they saw so little of
her--so many were the calls upon her time and attention.
"She certainly must need an occasional rest," said Grandma Elsie one
day, talking with Violet and the captain, "and we must invite her to
pay us a visit in our southern homes."
To that proposal both Captain Raymond and Violet gave an unqualified
assent, saying that they would be pleased indeed to entertain her.
A fortnight was spent there most pleasantly, after which the _Dolphin_
carried them up the coast to Bar Harbor, where we will leave them for
the present.
A LIST OF THE ELSIE BOOKS AND OTHER POPULAR BOOKS
BY
MARTHA FINLEY
_ELSIE DINSMORE._
_ELSIE'S HOLIDAYS AT ROSELANDS._
_ELSIE'S GIRLHOOD._
_ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD._
_ELSIE'S MOTHERHOOD._
_ELSIE'S CHILDREN._
_ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD._
_GRANDMOTHER ELSIE._
_ELSIE'S NEW RELATIONS._
_ELSIE AT NANTUCKET._
_THE TWO ELSIES._
_ELSIE'S KITH AND KIN._
_ELSIE'S FRIENDS AT WOODBURN._
_CHRISTMAS WITH GRANDMA ELSIE._
_ELSIE AND THE RAYMONDS._
_ELSIE YACHTING WITH THE RAYMONDS._
_ELSIE'S VACATION._
_ELSIE AT VIAMEDE._
_ELSIE AT ION._
_ELSIE AT THE WORLD'S FAIR._
_ELSIE'S JOURNEY ON INLAND WATERS._
_ELSIE AT HOME._
_ELSIE ON THE HUDSON._
_ELSIE IN THE SOUTH._
_MILDRED KEITH._
_MILDRED AT ROSELANDS._
_MILDRED'S MARRIED LIFE._
_MILDRED AND ELSIE._
_MILDRED AT HOME._
_MILDRED'S BOYS AND GIRLS._
_MILDRED'S NEW DAUGHTER._
_CASELLA._
_SIGNING THE CONTRACT AND WHAT IT COST._
_THE TRAGEDY OF WILD RIVER VALLEY._
_OUR FRED._
_AN OLD-FASHIONED BOY._
_WANTED, A PEDIGREE._
_THE THORN IN THE NEST._
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES
Some quotes are opened with marks but are not closed. Obvious errors
have been silently closed, while those requiring interpretation have
been left open. Other than the corrections listed above, printer's
inconsistencies in spelling, punctuation and hyphenation have been
retained.