“My mind has been occupied with care for your safety, dear mother, and that must be my excuse.  Now, however, there is an appearance of security which gives one a breathing-time, and my gratitude receives a sudden impulse.  As for you, Maud, I regret to be compelled to say that you stand convicted of laziness; not a single thing do I owe to your labours, or recollection of me.”

“Is that possible!” exclaimed the captain, who was pouring water into the tea-pot.  “Maud is the last person I should suspect of neglect of this nature; I do assure you, Bob, no one listens to news of your promotions and movements with more interest than Maud.”

Maud, herself, made no answer.  She bent her head aside, in a secret consciousness that her sister might alone detect, and form her own conclusions concerning the colour that she felt warming her cheeks.  But, Maud’s own sensitive feelings attributed more to Beulah than the sincere and simple-minded girl deserved.  So completely was she accustomed to regard Robert and Maud as brother and sister, that even all which had passed produced no effect in unsettling her opinions, or in giving her thoughts a new direction.  Just at this moment Farrel came back, and placed the basket on the bench, at the side of his master.

“Now, my dearest mother, and you, girls”—­the major had begun to drop the use of the word ‘sisters’ when addressing both the young ladies—­“Now, my dearest mother, and you, girls, I am about to give each her due.  In the first place, I confess my own unworthiness, and acknowledge, that I do not deserve one-half the kind attention I have received in these various presents, after which we will descend to particulars.”

The major, then, exposed every article contained in the basket, finding the words “mother” and “Beulah” pinned on each, but nowhere any indication that his younger sister had even borne him in mind.  His father looked surprised at this, not to say a little grave; and he waited, with evident curiosity, for the gifts of Maud, as one thing after another came up, without any signs of her having recollected the absentee.

“This is odd, truly,” observed the father, seriously; “I hope, Bob, you have done nothing to deserve this?  I should be sorry to have my little girl affronted!”

“I assure you, sir, that I am altogether ignorant of any act, and I can solemnly protest against any intention, to give offence.  If guilty, I now pray Maud to pardon me.”

“You have done nothing, Bob—­said nothing, Bob—­thought nothing to offend me,” cried Maud, eagerly.

“Why, then, have you forgotten him, darling, when your mother and sister have done so much in the way of recollection?” asked the captain.

“Forced gifts, my dear father, are no gifts.  I do not like to be compelled to make presents.”

This was uttered in a way to induce the major to throw all the articles back into the basket, as if he wished to get rid of the subject, without further comment.  Owing to this precipitation, the scarf was not seen.  Fortunately for Maud, who was ready to burst into tears, the service of the tea prevented any farther allusion to the matter.