The summons was promptly obeyed, and Violet left in the temporary charge of children, house, and servants at Ion.

Mrs. Conly died that night, but the old gentleman lingered for several weeks, during which time his son was a constant attendant at his bedside, either Rose or Elsie almost always sharing the watch and labor of love.

At length all was over:  the spirit had returned to God who gave it, the body had been laid to rest in the family vault.  Mr. Dinsmore and his wife and daughter went home to Ion, and life there fell back into its old quiet grooves.

They spoke tenderly of the old grandfather, and kept his memory green in their loving hearts, but he had gone to his grave like a shock of corn fully ripe, and they did not mourn over his death with the sadness they might have felt had it been that of a younger member of the family.

Toward spring Capt.  Raymond’s letters became urgent for a speedy marriage.  He expected to be ordered home in June and allowed a rest of some weeks or months.  Then he might be sent to some distant quarter of the globe, and not see his native land again for a long while, perhaps years.  Under such circumstances, how could he wait for his little wife?  Would not she and her mother and grandfather consent to let him claim her in June?

The tender hearts of Elsie and Violet could not stand out against his appeals.  Mr. and Mrs. Dinsmore felt for him too, and at length consent was given, and preparations for the marriage were set on foot.

Then the talk about the captain’s children was renewed, and Vi said, with tears in her sweet azure eyes, “Mamma, I do feel like being a mother to them—­especially for his sake—­it only I were old enough and wise enough to command their respect and obedience.  Ah, mamma, if only you could have the training of them!  Yet I could not bear to have you so burdened.”

“I have been thinking of it, Vi, dear,” Elsie said; “that perhaps we could give them a happy home here, and help them to grow up to good and noble man and womanhood, if their father would like to delegate his authority to your grandpa and you and me.  I think we would not abuse it, but without it ’twould be quite useless to undertake the charge.”

“Dear mamma!” cried Vi, her eyes shining, “how good, how kind, and unselfish you always are!”

Mr. Dinsmore, entering the room at the moment, asked playfully, “What is the particular evidence of that patent at this time, Vi?”

She answered his question by repeating what her mother had just said.

“I have a voice in that,” he remarked, with, a grave shake of the head.  “I do not think, daughter, that I can allow you to be so burdened.”

She rose, went to him where he stood, and putting her arms about his neck, her eyes gazing fondly into his, “Dear papa,” she said, “you know I will do nothing against your wishes, but I am sure you will not hinder me from doing any work the Master sends me?”