Grace ran out and joined her sister at the door.  “Oh, Lu, you would have enjoyed it if you had been with us,” she said, embracing her.  “But we are going to have a drive this morning.  We’re to start as soon as breakfast is over, and only come back in time for the bath; and papa says you can go too if you want to, and are a good girl; and you—­”

“I don’t want to,” said Lulu, with a cold, offended air.  “I like to be by myself on the beach; I enjoyed it very much yesterday, and shall enjoy it to-day; I don’t need anybody’s company.”

Her conscience gave her a twinge as she spoke, reminding her that she had passed but little of her day alone on the beach.

Grace gazed at her with wide-open eyes, lost in astonishment at her strange mood; but hearing their father’s step within the house, turned about and ran to meet him and claim her morning kiss.

“Where is your sister?” he asked when he had given it.

“The little one is asleep, papa,” she answered gayly; “the other one is at the door there.”

He smiled.  “Tell her to come in,” he said; “we are going to have prayers.”

Lulu obeyed the summons, but took a seat near the door, without so much as glancing toward her father.

When the short service was over Grace seated herself upon his knee, and Max stood close beside him, both laughing and talking right merrily; but Lulu sat where she was, gazing in moody silence into the street.

At length, in a pause in the talk, the captain said, in a kindly tone, “One of my little girls seems to have forgotten to bid me good-morning.”

“Good-morning, papa,” muttered Lulu, sullenly, her face still averted.

“Good-morning, Lucilla,” he said; and she knew by his tone and use of her full name that he was by no means pleased with her behavior.

At that moment they were summoned to breakfast.

Lulu took her place with the others and ate in silence, scarce lifting her eyes from her plate, while everybody else was full of cheerful chat.

A carriage was at the door when they left the table.

“Make haste, children,” the captain said, “so that we may have time for a long drive before the bathing hour.”

Max and Grace moved promptly to obey, but Lulu stood still.

“I spoke to you, Lulu, as well as to the others,” her father said, in his usual kindly tone; “you may go with us, if you wish.”

“I don’t care to, papa,” she answered, turning away.

“Very well, I shall not compel you; you may do just as you please about it,” he returned.  “Stay at home if you prefer it.  You may go down to the beach if you choose, but nowhere else.”

“Yes, sir,” she muttered, and walked out of the room, wondering in a half-frightened way if he knew or suspected where she had been the day before.

In fact, he did neither; he believed Lulu a more obedient child than she was, and had no idea that she had not done exactly as he bade her.