“Your thankfulness can hardly equal her father’s,” the captain said with emotion almost too big for utterance, as he gently drew off the mitten, and bound up the wounded fingers with his handkerchief.  “That will do till I get you to the house.  Shall I carry you, daughter?”

“Oh no, papa, I’m quite able to walk,” she answered in a very cheerful tone.  “Please don’t be so troubled; I’m sure I’m not much hurt.”

“Allow me to take off your skates for you,” Chester said, kneeling down on the ice at their feet, and beginning to undo the straps as he spoke.  “And I will gladly carry you up to the house, too, if you and your father are willing.”

“Oh thank you, sir; but I’d really rather walk with papa to help me along.”

The accident had sobered the party a good deal, and most of them—­including the older people and Lulu’s mates—­went back to the house with her and her father.

Violet was quite startled and alarmed to see the child brought in with her hand bound up; but when the blood had been washed away the wounds were found to be little more than skin deep; the bleeding soon ceased, and some court-plaster was all that was needed to cover up the cuts.

There were plenty of offers of assistance, but the captain chose to do for her himself all that was required.

“There, my dear child, you have had a very narrow escape,” he said when he had finished, drawing her into his arms and caressing her with great tenderness; “what a heartbreaking thing it would have been for us both had this little hand,” taking it tenderly in his, “been robbed of its fingers; far worse to me than to have lost my own.”

“And you have saved them for me, you dear father,” she said, clinging about his neck and laying her cheek to his, her eyes full of tears, a slight tremble in her voice.  “But they are yours, because I am,” she added, laughing a little hysterically.  “Oh I’m every bit yours; from the crown of my head to the soles of my feet.”

“Yes, so you are; one of my choice treasures, my darling,” he said with emotion; “and my heart is full of thankfulness to God our heavenly Father for enabling me to save you from being so sadly maimed.”

“And I do think your Mamma Vi is almost as thankful as either of you,” Violet said, coming to his side and softly smoothing Lulu’s hair.

They were in the dressing-room, no one else present but Grace and Max.

“I’m pretty thankful myself,” observed the latter jocosely, but with a telltale moisture about the eyes; “I shouldn’t like to have a sister with a fingerless hand.”

“Oh don’t, Max! don’t talk so!” sobbed Grace, “I just can’t bear to think of such dreadful things!”

Her father turned toward her and held out his hand.  She sprang to his side and he put his arm about her.

“The danger is happily past, my pet,” he said, touching his lips to her cheek; “so dry your eyes and think of something else, something pleasanter.”