“No; there need be no compulsion about it; indeed, I think it better for a child of your age not to take coffee at all.”

“But you never said I shouldn’t, papa.”

“No; because you had formed the habit in my absence, and, as I am not sure that it is a positive injury to you, I have felt loath to deprive you of the pleasure.”

“You are so kind, papa,” she said, slipping her hand into his and looking up affectionately into his face.  “But I will give up coffee if you want me to.  I like it, but I can do without it.”

“I think milk is far more wholesome for you,” he said, with a smile of pleased approval.  “I should like you to make that your ordinary beverage at meals, but I do not forbid an occasional cup of coffee.”

“Thank you, papa,” she returned.  “Grandma Elsie once told me that when she was a little girl her father wouldn’t allow her to drink coffee at all, or to eat any kind of hot cakes or rich sweet cake; and oh I don’t know how many things that she liked he wouldn’t let her have.  I don’t think he was half as nice a father as ours; do you, Gracie?”

“’Course I don’t, Lu; I just think we’ve got the very best in the whole world,” responded Grace, laying her cheek affectionately against the hand that held hers in its strong, loving clasp.

“That is only because he is your own, my darlings,” the captain said, smiling down tenderly upon them.

A lady had drawn near, and now said, “Supper is ready, Captain Raymond; will you bring your little girls and come to the table?”

“Thank you; we will do so with pleasure,” he said, following her as she led the way.

The table, covered with a snow-white cloth and heaped with tempting viands, presented a very attractive appearance.

The clams were brought on after the most of the company were seated, with their coffee and bread and butter before them.  They were served hot from the fire and the shell, in neat paper trays, and eaten with melted butter.  Eaten thus they make a dish fit for a king.

By the time that all appetites were satisfied, the sun was near his setting, and it was thought best to return without delay.

On repairing to the beach, they found the tide so low that even the dory could not come close to dry land; so the ladies and children were carried through the water to the yacht.  This gave occasion for some merriment.

“You must carry me, Ned, if I’ve got to be carried,” said Zoe; “I’m not going to let anybody else do it.”

“No; nor am I,” he returned, gayly, picking her up and striding forward.  “I claim it as my especial privilege.”

Mr. Dinsmore followed with his wife, then Captain Raymond with his.

“Get in, Mr. Dinsmore,” said the captain, as they deposited their burdens; “there is no occasion for further exertion on your part; I’ll bring mother.”

“No, sir,” said Edward, hurrying shoreward again, “that’s my task; you have your children to take care of.”