But the dinner hour was approaching, and Marian found she must go to her mother’s assistance.
Lulu spent most of the afternoon alone, but amused herself with writing letters to Evelyn and Gracie. Marian went with her to the post-office to mail them when done, and to Lulu’s great satisfaction there were letters from home for her father, for Max, and for herself.
“One of these is from Mamma Vi,” she said to Marian, “and I’m so glad I shall have the pleasure of handing it to papa; of course he’s always very glad to get her letters.”
“Your mamma, did you say?” asked Marian.
“My young step-mother,” explained Lulu. “She’s not old enough to be my own mamma. My mother had been dead two or three years when papa married again.”
“It’s all right, then,” Marian commented, with some bitterness of tone, thinking of Mormon teaching that a man may have many wives living at the same time, “I never heard of any religion that teaches it is wrong for a man to marry again after his wife is dead.”
They had entered the house and passed on into the sitting-room. At that moment there was the sound of horses’ hoofs on the street and some seemed to pause at Mrs. McAlpine’s gate.
“Oh, I do believe they’ve come back!” cried Lulu, in joyous tones, “Yes, I hear papa’s voice,” and she ran to meet him, Marian’s eyes following her with a wistful, longing look.
The captain had just stepped across the threshold as his little daughter came flying to him, crying, “Oh, papa, I’m so glad you’re safely back again! I was so afraid you might get hurt.”
He bent down, caught her in his arms, and giving her a loving kiss, said, “Yes, I have been taken care of and brought back unhurt. My little girl should have trusted me to our Heavenly Father’s care, and not tormented herself with useless, unavailing fears.”