“How good of you!” she returned merrily.  “I doubt if it isn’t a very good plan to run away occasionally, that I may be the more highly appreciated on my return.”

“Would you advise me to do likewise, and for the same reason, lady mine?” he asked, drawing her caressingly aside from the little group now busily occupied in telling and hearing about the day’s purchases.

“No, sir,” she said, tossing back her curls, and looking up into his face with a bewitchingly saucy smile:  “you’d better not attempt it, lest there should be mutiny in the camp.  When you go, I go too.”

“Turn about, fair play,” he said, knitting his brows.  “I claim the privilege of being quite as independent as you are—­when you can’t plead delegated authority from the doctor;” and, drawing her hand within his arm, he led her away to their private apartments.

Violet, hurrying down to welcome her husband home, passed them on the stairway.

“You two happy children!” she said, glancing smilingly back at them.

“Children!” echoed Edward.  “Mrs. Raymond, how can you be so disrespectful to your elder brother?—­your senior by some two years.”

“Ah! but your united ages are much less than Levis’s and mine; and husband and wife make but one, don’t they?” she returned gayly, as she tripped away.

Baby was almost herself again, and the young mother’s heart was full of gladness.

She joined the group on the veranda, her husband receiving her with a glad smile and tender caress, and standing by his side, her hand on his shoulder, his arm half supporting her slight, girlish form, listened with lively interest to the story his children were telling so eagerly, of papa’s kindness and generosity to them, and the many lovely things bought to make beautiful and attractive the rooms in the new home that were to be especially theirs.

He let them talk without restraint for some moments, then said pleasantly, “Now, my dears, it is time for you to go and make yourselves neat for the tea-table.  Any thing more you think of that would be likely to interest Rosie and Walter, you can tell them afterwards.”

The order was obeyed promptly and cheerfully, even by Lulu.

When the excitement of telling about their purchases, and all the day’s experiences, was over, the children found themselves very weary,—­the two little girls at least:  Max wouldn’t acknowledge that he was at all fatigued, but was quite willing to comply with his father’s suggestion that it would be wise for him, as well as for his sisters, to go early to bed.

While Lulu was making ready for hers, her thoughts turned upon the morrow, bringing with them a new source of disquiet.

“Papa,” she said pleadingly, when he came in to bid her good-night, “mayn’t I stay at home to-morrow?”

“Stay at home from church?  Not unless you are sick, or the weather quite too bad for you to go out.  Why should you wish it?”