“Ah! that will do,” his father said when the lad was within easy hearing-distance:  “these fellows,” glancing at the horses attached to the carriage, “are getting too restless to stand any longer; so you may finish your exhibition at another time.  I have seen enough to feel that you are quite equal to the management of your pony.”

“O papa! he’s just splendid!” Max burst out, bending down to pat and stroke the neck of his steed; “and I can never thank you enough for such a gift.”

“Enjoy him, and use him kindly:  that is all I ask,” the captain said, entering the carriage, where he had already placed his two little girls.  “Drive on, Scipio.  Max, you may ride along-side.”

“I ’spect I know where we’re going,” remarked Grace gleefully, and with an arch smile up into her father’s face, as she noticed the direction they were taking on turning out of the avenue into the high-road.

“Do you?” he said.  “Well, wait a little, and you will find out how good a guess you have made.”

“To Woodburn, papa?” queried Lulu eagerly.

“Have patience, and you will see presently,” he answered with a smile.

“Mamma Vi, do you know?” she asked.

“It is your father’s secret,” said Violet.  “I should not presume to tell you when he declines doing so.”

“We shall know in a very few minutes, Lu,” said Evelyn:  “it is only a short drive to Woodburn.”

“I was thinking about that name,” said Grace.  “Papa, why do they call it Woodburn?  There’s woods,—­do they burn them sometimes?  They don’t look as if they’d ever been burned.”

“I don’t think they have,” he said, “except such parts of them as dry twigs and fallen branches, that could be picked up from the ground, or now and then a tree that it was thought best to cut down, or that fell of itself.  But you know, there is a pretty little brook running across the estate, and in Scotland such a stream is called a burn; so, having a wood and a burn, Woodburn is a very appropriate name.”

“Yes, papa, I think it is, and a pretty name too.  Thank you for explaining it, and not laughing at my mistake.”

“Even papa doesn’t know nearly every thing, little daughter,” he said, stroking and patting the small hand she had laid on his knee, “so it would be quite out of place for him to laugh at you for asking a sensible question.  We should never be ashamed to ask for information that we need.  It is much wiser than to remain in ignorance for fear of being laughed at.”

“And her father always gives information so kindly and patiently,” remarked Violet.

“And I think he knows ’most every thing,” said Grace.  “Oh, I did guess right! for here we are at Woodburn.”

They drove and walked about the grounds, admiring, criticising, planning improvements; then called on Miss Elliott, and, with her readily accorded permission, went over the house.

Violet and the captain selected a suite of rooms for their own occupation, and he decided which the children should use.