“Oh, nicely, if you’ll let me use you,” she returned, laughing.
“I will when there’s no printed one at hand.”
“Thank you, sir; it will be a great deal less trouble than hunting for the word in a dictionary. But why don’t you let me use you always when you’re with me?”
“Because I think the spelling will be more likely to be impressed upon your memory by the trouble of having to search out the word; beside, I want my children to learn the lesson of self-help. We should never trouble others to do for us what we can do for ourselves.”
“I’ll try always to remember and act upon that, papa,” said Max. “Isn’t it the people that help themselves all they can, who are most apt to succeed in life?”
“Most assuredly, my boy,” replied the captain, as they left the table and retired to their own apartments.
“My letter is going to be to Gracie,” Max remarked as he took out his writing materials.
“Mine too,” said Lulu; “I’m going to tell her about our walk this morning, and our visit to the mine.”
“Just what I intended doing,” Max said.
“Suppose you both carry out your intentions, and then compare accounts, to see how they differ,” suggested their father. “Very likely each of you will tell something that the other will omit, and between the two letters Gracie will get a better idea of the little excursion than she could from either one alone.”