ELSIE'S VACATION AND AFTER EVENTS
by
MARTHA FINLEY
Author of "Elsie Dinsmore," "Elsie at Home," etc.
Special Authorized Edition
M. A. Donohue & Co.Chicago New YorkCopyright, 1891.By Dodd, Mead & Company.Made in U.S.A.
ELSIE'S VACATION
CHAPTER I.
Captain Raymond went back to the hotel feeling somewhat lonely andheartsore over the parting from his eldest hope, but as he entered theprivate parlor where his young wife and most of the party were, his lookand manner had all their accustomed cheeriness.
He made a pleasant remark to Violet, fondled the little ones, and talkedfor a few minutes in his usual agreeable way with Mr. and Mrs. Dinsmoreand the others; then glancing about the room, as if in search of someoneor something, asked, "Where are Lulu and Gracie?"
"Why, I thought they were here," Violet answered in some surprise,following the direction of his glance. "They seem to have slipped out ofthe room very quietly."
"I must hunt them up, poor dears! for it is about time we were startingfor the _Dolphin_," he said, hastily leaving the room. A low sobbingsound struck upon his ear as he softly opened the door of the roomwhere his little girls had slept the previous night, and there they weredown on the carpet near a window, Gracie's head in her sister's lap,Lulu softly stroking the golden curls and saying in tender tones,"Don't, Gracie dear; oh, don't! It can't be helped, you know; and wehave our dear papa and Mamma Vi, and the little ones left. Besides,Maxie will come home again to visit us one of these days."
"Oh, but he'll never live at home with us any more," sobbed Gracie; "atleast I'm afraid he won't; and--and oh, I do love him so! and he's theonly big brother we have."
"But we have papa, dear, dear papa, who used to be obliged to go awayand leave us; but we have him all the time now," Lulu replied halfchokingly. "I wish we could have them both, but we can't, and we both dolove papa the best after all."
"And papa loves his two dear little girls more than tongue can tell,"the captain said in tenderest tones, drawing near, bending down to takeboth in his arms together, and kissing first one and then the other. "Becomforted, my darlings," he went on, holding them close to his heart;"we haven't lost our Maxie by any means; and though I left him feeling atrifle homesick and forlorn, he will get over that in a day or two Iknow, and greatly enjoy the business of preparing himself for the lifework he has freely chosen."
"But, oh, papa, how he will miss our lovely home, and you, and all ofus!" sobbed Gracie, hiding her tear-stained face on her father'sshoulder.
"Not as you would, my darling," he replied, holding her close andcaressing her with great tenderness. "Boys are different from girls, andI think our dear Maxie will soon feel very happy there among his mates,though he will, I am sure, never cease to love his father, sisters,Mamma Vi, baby brother, and his home with them all."
"Papa, I'm thinking how he'll miss the pleasant evenings at home--thegood talks with you," sobbed the little girl.
"Yes, darling, but I will tell you what we will do to partly, at least,make up that loss to our dear boy."
"What, papa?" she asked, lifting her head and looking up into his face,with her own brightening a little.
"Suppose we each keep a journal or diary, telling everything that goeson each day at home, and now and then send them to Maxie; so that hewill know all that we are doing?"
"Oh, what a good thought, papa!" exclaimed Lulu, giving him a vigoroushug and kiss. "And Maxie will write us nice, interesting letters; andsome day he'll come home for a visit and have ever so much to tell us."
"Yes," her father said, "and I think we will have interesting lettersfrom him in the meantime."
"And perhaps I'll learn to like writing letters, when it's just toplease Maxie and comfort him," said Grace, wiping away her tears andtrying to smile.
"I hope so, darling," her father replied, bestowing another kiss uponthe sweet little tear-stained face. "But now, my dears," he added, "puton your hats; it is time to go back to the _Dolphin_."
They hastened to obey, and he led them to the parlor, where they foundthe rest of the party ready to accompany them on board the yacht.
The sun was setting as they reached the _Dolphin's_ deck and they founda luxurious repast ready for them to partake of by the time outdoorgarments could be laid aside and wind-tossed hair restored to order.
The captain missed the bright face of his first-born at the table, but,exerting himself for the entertainment of the others, seemed even morethan usually cheery and genial, now and then indulging in some innocentjest that made his little girls laugh in spite of themselves, and atlength almost forget, for the moment, their parting from Max, and theirgrief over the thought that he would no longer share their lessons ortheir sports, and would be at home only after what, in the prospect,seemed to them a long, long time; and then but for a little while.
On leaving the table all gathered upon deck. There was no wind, but theyacht had a steam engine and used her sails only on occasions when theycould be of service. Stars shone brightly in the sky overhead, but theirlight was not sufficient to give an extended view on land or water, andas all were weary with the excitement and sightseeing of the day, theyretired early to their berths.
Poor Grace, worn out with her unusual excitement, and especially thegrief of the parting with Max, was asleep the instant her head touchedthe pillow. Not so with Lulu; her loneliness and depression banishedsleep from her eyes for the time, and presently she slipped from herberth, threw on a warm dressing-gown, and thrust her feet into feltslippers. The next moment she stole noiselessly into the saloon whereher father sat alone looking over an evening paper.
He was not aware of her entrance till she stood close at his side, herhand on his shoulder, her eyes fixed, with a gaze of ardent affection,upon his face.
"Dear child!" he said, looking up from his paper, and smilingaffectionately upon her; then tossing the paper aside and putting an armabout her waist, he drew her to his knee and pressed fatherly kissesupon lip and cheek and brow, asking tenderly if anything was wrong withher that she had come in search of him when he supposed her to bealready in bed and sound asleep.
"I'm not sick, papa," she said in reply; "but oh, I miss Maxie so!" Thewords were almost a sob, and she clung about her father's neck, hidingher face on his shoulder.
"I, too, miss my boy more than words can tell," he replied, stroking herhair with gently caressing touch, and she was sure his tones trembled alittle with the pain of the thought of Max left alone among strangers;"but I thank God, our Heavenly Father, that I have by no means lost myeldest son, while I still have another one and three dear daughters toadd to my happiness in our sweet home."
"I do want to add to it, you dear, dear, good papa!" she said, huggingand kissing him over and over again. "Oh, I wish I was a better girl foryour sake, so that my wrong-doing would never give you pain!"
"I think--and am very happy in the thought--that you are improving," hesaid, repeating his caresses; "and it is a great comfort to me," hecontinued, "that my little girls need not be sent away from home andtheir father to be educated."
"To me also, papa," she returned. "I am very thankful that I may livewith my dear father always while we are spared to each other. I don'tmean to ever go away from you, papa, but to stay with you always, towait on you and do everything I can to be a great help, comfort, andblessing to you; even when I'm grown up to womanhood."
"Ah!" he returned, again smoothing her hair caressingly and smiling downinto her eyes; then holding her close, "I shall be very glad to keep youas long as you may prefer life with me, my own dear, dear child," hesaid in tender tones. "I look upon my dear eldest daughte
r as one of thegreat blessings my Heavenly Father has bestowed upon me, and which Ihope he may spare to me as long as I live."
"Papa, I'm so, so glad you love me so dearly!" she exclaimed, lifting tohis eyes full of love and joy; "and oh, I do love you so! I want to be agreat blessing to you as long as we both live."
"I don't doubt it, my darling," he replied. "I doubt neither your desirenor purpose to be such."
"Yes, sir, I do really long to be the very greatest of comforts to you,and yet," she sighed, "I have such a bad temper you know, papa, I'm sowilful too, that--that I'm afraid--almost sure, indeed--I'll be naughtyagain one of these days and give you the pain of punishing me for it."
"That would grieve me very much, but would not diminish my love foryou," he said; "nor yours for me, I think."
"No, indeed, papa!" she exclaimed, creeping closer into his embrace,"because I know that when you have to punish me in any way it makes youvery, very sorry."
"It does indeed!" he responded.
"Papa," she sighed, "I'm always dreadfully sorry and ashamed after oneof my times of being disobedient, wilful, and ill-tempered, and I amreally thankful to you for taking so much pains and trouble to make abetter girl of me."
"I don't doubt it, daughter," he answered; "it is a long while now sinceI have had any occasion to punish you, and your conduct has rarelycalled for even so much as a reproof."
She gave him a glad, grateful look, an embrace of ardent affection,then, laying her cheek to his, "You dear, dear papa, you have made mefeel very happy," she said, "and I'm sure I am much happier than Ishould be if you had let me go on indulging my bad temper andwilfulness. Oh, it's so nice to be able to run to my dear fatherwhenever I want to, and always to be so kindly received that I can'tfeel any doubt that he loves me dearly. Ah, how I pity poor Maxie thathe can't see you for weeks or months!"
"And don't you pity papa a little that he can't see Maxie?" he asked,with a smile and a sigh.
"Oh, yes! yes indeed! I'm so sorry for you, papa, and I mean to do all Ican to supply his place. What do you suppose Maxie is doing just now,papa?"
"Doubtless he is in his room preparing his lessons for to-morrow. Thebugle-call for evening study-hour sounds at half-past seven, and thelads must be busy with their books till half-after nine."
He drew out his watch, and glancing at its face, "Ah, it is just nineo'clock," he said. "Kiss me good-night, daughter, and go back to yourberth."