“On shipboard?”

“No, in a cottage by the sea.”

“Humph! he’ll soon sail away again and leave you with your step-mother, just as I told you.”

“Well, I don’t care, she looks enough kinder and sweeter than you do.”

“Indeed!  I pity her, poor young thing!” sighed Mrs. Scrimp, scanning the photograph with keen curiosity.  “She’s very young—­a mere child I should say—­and to think of the trouble she’ll have with you and Max!”

“We’re not going to be a trouble to her,” said Lulu, “we’re never a trouble to people that treat us decently.”

“I think your father might have given me an earlier warning of these changes,” grumbled Mrs. Scrimp.  “I’ll have to work myself sick to get you two ready in time.”

“Oh, no, Aunt Beulah, you needn’t,” said little Gracie, “the new mamma can get somebody to make our clothes for us.  Papa will pay for it.”

“Of course he will,” said Lulu.  “You needn’t do anything but have those we have now all washed and ironed and packed up ready to go.”

“That’s all you know about it!” returned Mrs. Scrimp sharply.  “You haven’t either of you a suitable dress for travelling in, especially in company with your father’s rich wife.  I’ll have to go right out now to the stores and buy material, get a dress-maker to come in to-morrow bright and early, and help her myself all I can.  There’ll be no rest for me now till you’re off.”

There was no rest for anybody else in the interim except Gracie.  As Ann remarked rather indignantly to Lulu, adding, “She’s as cross as two sticks.”

“What makes her so cross?” asked Lulu.  “I should think she’d be so glad she’s going to be rid of me that she’d feel uncommonly good-natured.”

“Not she!” laughed Ann, “she counted on the money your father pays for years to come; but he’s gone and got married and her cake is dough sure enough.”

“I’m glad he did,” returned Lulu emphatically.  “I’ve made up my mind that such a sweet-looking lady as our new mamma must be a great deal nicer and kinder than Aunt Beulah, if she is a step-mother.”

“She is sweet-lookin’, that’s a fact,” said Ann.  “I only wish I was goin’ to make the change as well as you.”

The eventful day came at last to the children; all too soon to Mr. Fox and Mrs. Scrimp, neither of whom relished the task of giving account of past stewardship; for conscience accused both of unfaithfulness to the captain’s trust.

The three children were gathered in the hotel parlor, impatiently awaiting the arrival of the train.  Mrs. Scrimp sat a little apart, fidgety and ill at ease, though ensconced in a most comfortable, cushioned arm-chair; and Mr. Fox paced the veranda outside, wondering if Max had dared or would dare to inform his father of the cruel treatment received at his hands, and if so, whether the captain would credit the story.

Violet and the captain had thus far had a delightful honeymoon, finding their mutual love deepening every hour, yet were not so engrossed with each other as to quite forget his children; they had talked of them frequently, and were now looking forward to the coming interview with scarcely less eagerness than the young people themselves.