Presently afterward Lulu saw her, through the window, in bonnet and shawl and with a basket on her arm, going out to do the marketing.

Having finished her breakfast, Lulu walked into the sitting-room.

Gracie lay on the sofa looking pale and weak.  Lulu went to her, stroked her hair, and kissed her.

“Poor little Gracie! weren’t you hungry for some supper last night?”

“Yes, Lulu,” replied the child, lifting a thin white little hand and stroking her sister’s face, “but Aunt Beulah says it makes me worse to eat at night.”

“I don’t believe it!” cried Lulu vehemently, and half stamping her foot, “and I’m going to write a letter to papa and tell him how she starves you, and would starve me too if I’d let her!”

“I wish papa would come!” sighed Gracie.  “Lulu, did it use to make us sick to eat supper when we lived with papa and mamma?”

“No, never a bit!  O Gracie, Gracie, why did mamma die? why did God take her away from us when we need her so much?  I can’t love Him for that!  I don’t love Him!” she exclaimed with a sudden shower of tears, albeit not much given to shedding them.

“Don’t cry, Lulu,” Gracie said in distress, “maybe papa will find another mamma for us.  I wish he would.”

“I don’t! stepmothers are always hateful!  I’d hate her and never mind a word she said.  O Max, Max!  I’m so glad to see you!” as a handsome, dark-eyed, merry-faced boy came rushing in.

“I’ve just come for a minute!” he cried half breathlessly, catching her in his arms, giving her a resounding kiss, then bending over Gracie with a sudden change to extreme gentleness of manner; she was his baby sister and so weak and timid.

“Poor little Gracie!” he said softly.  “I wish I was a big man to take you and Lulu away and give you a good time!”

“I love you, Max,” she returned, stroking and patting his cheek.  “I wish you’d be a good boy, so you could live here with us.”

“I don’t want to,” he answered, frowning.  “I mean I don’t want to live with her; I sha’n’t ever call her aunt again.  I wouldn’t have come in if I hadn’t known she was out.  I saw her going to market.  I’m going off to Miller’s Pond to fish for trout.  You know it’s Saturday and there’s no school.  Jim Bates is going with me and we’re to be back by noon; that is, old Tommy said I must.”

Lulu laughed at Max’s irreverent manner of alluding to the man who had the oversight of him out of school hours; then jumping up, “O Max!” she cried, “I want to go too!  I’ll be ready in a minute.”

“What’ll Mrs. Scrimp say?” laughed Max.

Lulu tossed her head with a scornful smile which said more plainly than words that she did not care what Mrs. Scrimp might do or say in regard to the matter, ran into the hall, and returned almost instantly with hat and sacque.

“Come, Max,” she said, “we’d better be off before she gets back.  Gracie, you won’t mind being left alone for just a little bit?  Ann’s in the kitchen, you know.”