Elsie in the South Part 32

So the little journey was made successfully and the social meal greatly enjoyed. At its conclusion Harold a.s.sisted Dr. Percival to his couch again, where he lay down, just weary enough to take a long, refres.h.i.+ng nap.

On leaving the table, Grandma Elsie went to the telephone and called to Woodburn. Violet answered, "What is it, mother?" and received the reply, "I expect the whole connection here to take tea and spend the evening, and I want you all to come."

The captain, standing near, heard the message also, and as Violet turned inquiringly to him, "Surely there is nothing to prevent any of us from going," he said, and she at once answered, "Thank you, mother, you may expect us all."

The same invitation had been already sent to, and accepted by, the others, and some time before the tea hour they were all there, glad to meet and exchange greetings, and chat about all that had occurred since they last saw each other. And Dr. Percival, refreshed and strengthened by his dinner and a long, sound sleep after it, was able to enjoy it all, perhaps as keenly as anyone else. They talked of whatever had occurred among them during the time that they had been separated, and of their plans for the coming heated term--who would pa.s.s it at home and who go North to find a cooler climate. But it was not necessary to decide fully upon their plans, as some weeks must elapse ere carrying them out and there would be a good deal of intercourse among them in the meantime.

They scattered to their homes early in the evening that Dr. Percival might not be kept up or awake, and that the little ones might be safely and in good season bestowed in their nests for the night.

Dr. Percival improved rapidly in the next few weeks; so rapidly that he was able to make a visit to Roselands, the Oaks, and Woodburn, each in turn, and felt that he should greatly enjoy the journey to the North and the sojourn by the seaside there which awaited him, his wife, and friends.

Our two pairs of lovers went quietly and happily on with their courting, considered plans for future house-building and housekeeping, and what should be done and enjoyed in the meantime, and it seemed but a little while till they were again on board the _Dolphin_ and speeding on their northward course.

It was the same party that had come in her on that last voyage from the South. Max was still in the enjoyment of his furlough and by his father's request now took command of the vessel; but, the weather being fine throughout the voyage, his duties were not arduous and Evelyn had no reason to complain of want of attention from her fiance.

Nor had Lucilla; Chester being seldom absent from her side during the day or evening. So that Captain Raymond began to feel at times that he was already losing--to some extent--his eldest daughter. He sighed over it to himself, but made no complaint to either of them.

Lucilla's affection for him did not seem to have suffered any abatement; as had been her custom, she often came to him for a bit of private chat early in the morning or in the evening after the others had gone to their staterooms; and in these private interviews she was the same ardently affectionate daughter she had been for years; so that he felt he had no reason to fear that her lover had stolen all her heart.

But she was very keen-sighted as regarded him and his feelings toward her. One evening as, according to his custom, he paced the deck after all the pa.s.sengers had retired for the night, he heard her light step at his side and then her voice asking in its sweetest tones, "Papa dear, mayn't I walk with you for at least a few minutes? I am neither sleepy nor tired, and it is so seldom now that I can have my own dear father all to myself."

"Yes, daughter dear," he said, putting an arm about her and caressing her with tenderness. "I am very glad to have your company if it is not going to weary you or rob you of needed sleep." Then he drew her hand within his arm and they paced slowly back and forth, conversing in subdued tones.

"It is so sweet to be alone with you once in a while, my own dear father," she said. "I think, papa, if my engagement has made any change in my feelings toward you it has been to make you seem to me nearer and dearer, if possible, than ever. Oh, I think it would break my heart if I should ever have to go so far away from you that I could not see and talk with you every day!"

"Dear child, those are sweet words to my ear," he said in moved tones, "and I am most thankful that, so far as we can see into the future, there seems little or no danger that we will ever be so separated in this world."

"Yes, papa; that a.s.surance is one of my greatest joys. And I am so glad that my dear father is so strong and well, and not so very old,"

she added with a smile and a look of loving admiration up into his face.

"I am not very young, daughter," he returned pleasantly, "though I think my natural strength has not abated, and life seems as enjoyable to me as ever. But the happy thought is that G.o.d our heavenly Father rules and reigns and shall choose all our changes for us; for to his wisdom and love there is no limit. How sweet are the words, 'I have loved thee with an everlasting love,' 'As the Father hath loved me, so have I loved you.' If we are his children we need not fear to trust our all in his hands. We need not desire to choose for ourselves as regards the things of this life, or the time when he shall call us to our heavenly home."

"That is a very sweet thought, father," she said. "What a care and anxiety it would be to us to have to choose all those changes for ourselves. How kind in the dear Lord Jesus to bid his disciples to take no thought--which you have explained to me means no care or anxiety--for the morrow--telling them that 'Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.'"

"Yes; and when troubled with cares and fears for the future we may be sure that it is because we are lacking in that faith which trusts all in his hands."

"Oh, I want that faith!" she exclaimed earnestly, though her voice was low and sweet. "Papa, pray for me that I may have it."

"I will, daughter, I do," he said; "there is nothing I desire more strongly for you and all my dear children than that."

They were silent for a moment, then she asked, "Where are we now, papa? and to what port bound as the first?"

"We are nearing Delaware Bay," he replied, "and expect to pa.s.s up it and the river to Philadelphia, where we will add Grandpa and Grandma Dinsmore to our party, then come down and round the southern part of New Jersey and on up the eastern coast to Atlantic City. Rooms have been engaged for us at Haddon Hall and there we purpose staying for perhaps a fortnight, then we think of going on up the New England coast, perhaps as far as Bar Harbor in Maine."

"Oh, I like that plan," she said; "for we have never yet visited either of those places, and I have wanted to see them both."

"I shall be glad to give you that pleasure, daughter," he said. "Now it is high time you were in bed and asleep; so bid me good-night and go."

Our travellers reached Philadelphia the next day, took on board Mr.

and Mrs. Dinsmore, pa.s.sed down the river and bay again, and up the Atlantic coast to the city of that name, as the captain had planned.

They were charmed with their quarters; rooms near the sea--looking out directly upon it--with a private porch where they could sit and enjoy the breeze and an extended view of the ocean, watching the vessels pa.s.s and repa.s.s, outward bound or coming from distant ports to the harbors farther up the coast. Strolling along the broad plank walk, four miles in length and close to the sea, was another pleasure; as were also the driving down on the beach at low tide, and the little excursions out to Longport and other adjacent villages.

Most of the days were spent in making these little trips--sometimes in carriages, at others in the electric cars--and the evenings in wandering by moonlight along the board walk.

There were various places of innocent amus.e.m.e.nt too--such as the j.a.panese garden and the piers, where seals and other curiosities were on exhibition.

They found the table excellent and everything about the establishment homelike, neat, and refined, and their hostess so agreeable, so charming, that their only regret was that they saw so little of her--so many were the calls upon her time and attention.

"She certainly must need an occasional rest," said Grandma Elsie one day, talking with Violet and the captain, "and we must invite her to pay us a visit in our southern homes."

To that proposal both Captain Raymond and Violet gave an unqualified a.s.sent, saying that they would be pleased indeed to entertain her.

A fortnight was spent there most pleasantly, after which the _Dolphin_ carried them up the coast to Bar Harbor, where we will leave them for the present.

A LIST OF THE ELSIE BOOKS AND OTHER POPULAR BOOKS BY MARTHA FINLEY

_ELSIE DINSMORE._ _ELSIE'S HOLIDAYS AT ROSELANDS._ _ELSIE'S GIRLHOOD._ _ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD._ _ELSIE'S MOTHERHOOD._ _ELSIE'S CHILDREN._ _ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD._ _GRANDMOTHER ELSIE._ _ELSIE'S NEW RELATIONS._ _ELSIE AT NANTUCKET._ _THE TWO ELSIES._ _ELSIE'S KITH AND KIN._ _ELSIE'S FRIENDS AT WOODBURN._ _CHRISTMAS WITH GRANDMA ELSIE._ _ELSIE AND THE RAYMONDS._ _ELSIE YACHTING WITH THE RAYMONDS._ _ELSIE'S VACATION._ _ELSIE AT VIAMEDE._ _ELSIE AT ION._ _ELSIE AT THE WORLD'S FAIR._ _ELSIE'S JOURNEY ON INLAND WATERS._ _ELSIE AT HOME._ _ELSIE ON THE HUDSON._ _ELSIE IN THE SOUTH._

_MILDRED KEITH._ _MILDRED AT ROSELANDS._ _MILDRED'S MARRIED LIFE._ _MILDRED AND ELSIE._ _MILDRED AT HOME._ _MILDRED'S BOYS AND GIRLS._ _MILDRED'S NEW DAUGHTER._

_CASELLA._ _SIGNING THE CONTRACT AND WHAT IT COST._ _THE TRAGEDY OF WILD RIVER VALLEY._ _OUR FRED._ _AN OLD-FAs.h.i.+ONED BOY._ _WANTED, A PEDIGREE._ _THE THORN IN THE NEST._