“Papa, I almost think I could pack it myself after watching you pack all these others.”

“Possibly; but I shall do it more quickly, with you to help in getting all the things together.”

Every one was ready in due season for departure, and that night the two cottages that for months past had been so full of light and life, were dark, silent and deserted.

Arriving in Boston, the whole party took rooms at one of the principal hotels.  There they spent the night, but the greater part of the next day was passed on board the captain’s vessel.

The day after the parting came; a very hard one for him, his young wife and children.  Little feeble Gracie cried herself sick, and Violet found it necessary to put aside the indulgence of her own grief in order to comfort the nearly heart-broken child, who clung to her as she might have done to her own mother.

Max and Lulu made no loud lament, but their quiet, subdued manner and sad countenances told of deep and sincere sorrow, and, in truth, they often felt ready to join in Gracie’s oft-repeated cry, “Oh, how can I do without my dear, dear papa?”

But they were with kind friends.  Every one in the party showed them sympathy, pretty presents were made them, and they were taken to see all the sights of the city likely to interest them.

Grandma Elsie particularly endeared herself to them at this time by her motherly tenderness and care, treating them as if they were her own children.

Their father had given each two parting gifts, a handsome pocket Bible, with the injunction to commit at least one verse to memory every day, and a pretty purse with some spending money in it; for he knew they would enjoy making purchases for themselves when visiting the city stores with the older people.

So they did; and Lulu, who was generous to a fault, had soon spent her all in gifts for others; a lovely new doll for Gracie, some books for Max, a bottle of perfumery for “Mamma Vi,” and a toy for Walter.

Violet was much pleased with the present to herself as an evidence of growing affection.  She received it with warm thanks and a loving embrace.  “My dear child, it was very kind in you to think of me!” she said.  “It makes me hope you have really given me a little place in your heart, dear.”

“Oh, yes, Mamma Vi, indeed I have!” cried the little girl, returning the embrace.  “Surely we ought all to love you when you love our dear father so much, and he loves you, too.”

“Certainly,” said Max, who was standing by; “we couldn’t help loving so sweet and pretty a lady if she was nothing at all to us and we lived in the same house with her, and how can we think she’s any less nice and sweet just because she’s married to our father?”

“And how can I help loving you because you are the children of my dear husband?” responded Violet, taking the boy’s hand and pressing it warmly in hers.