Lulu, too proud to retract, yet strongly drawn toward the possessor of so sweet and lovely a countenance as was pictured there, kept silence, gazing intently upon the photograph which Gracie still held.

“Whose is it, Max?” asked the latter.

“Mine I suppose, though papa doesn’t say; but we’ll find out when he comes.”

“Oh, I’m so glad, so glad he’s coming soon!  Aren’t you, Maxie?”

“I never was gladder in my life!” cried Max.  “And just think how nice to go and live by the sea all summer!  There’ll be lots of fun boating and bathing and fishing!”

“Oh, yes!” chimed in Lulu, “and papa is always so kind about taking us to places and giving us a good time.”

“But I can’t have any!” sighed Gracie from her couch.

“Yes, papa will manage it somehow,” said Max; “and the sea air and plenty to eat will soon make you ever so much stronger.”

They chatted on for some time, growing more and more delighted with the prospect before them; then Max said he must go.

He wanted to take the photograph with him, but generously yielded to Gracie’s entreaties that it might be left with her till he came again.

She and Lulu were still gazing upon it and talking together of the original—­Max having gone—­when Mrs. Scrimp came in, looking greatly vexed and perturbed.

She too had received a letter from Capt.  Raymond that day, telling of his marriage and his intentions in regard to his children; directing also that they and their luggage should be in waiting at a hotel near the depot of the town at the hour of a certain day of the coming week when he and his bride expected to arrive by a train from the West.

There would be a two hours’ detention there while they waited for the train that was to carry them to their final destination, which would allow time for an interview between the captain and herself.

The news was entirely unexpected and very unwelcome to Mrs. Scrimp.  She would have much preferred to keep the little girls, for the sake of the gain they were to her and a real affection for Gracie; also because of having neglected to follow out the captain’s directions in regard to them—­Gracie in particular—­she felt no small perturbation at the prospect of meeting and being questioned by him.

As was not unusual she vented her displeasure upon Lulu, scolding because her school-books and hat had not been put in their proper places, her hair and dress made neat.

“I’ll put them away presently, Aunt Beulah.  You’ll not be bothered with me much longer,” remarked the delinquent nonchalantly, her eyes still upon the photograph Gracie was holding.

“What’s that?” asked Mrs. Scrimp, catching sight of it for the first time.

“Our new mamma,” the children answered in a breath, Gracie’s tones full of gentle joyousness, Lulu’s of a sort of defiant exultation, especially as she added, “Papa’s coming next week to take us away to live at home with him.”