Lulu was, of course, left behind in the boarding-house.
As her father kissed her good-by he said, “I am very sorry to leave you alone, dear child, but I trust that you will be able to pass the time agreeably in reading, sewing or letter-writing—whatever employment you fancy that can be attended to in the house—for I want you to stay within doors; the day is a very warm one, and I much prefer that you should not be exposed to the heat of the sun.
“I hope to be back in season to take you for a walk or ride in the cool of the evening.”
“I shall like that, if you don’t come home too tired, dear papa,” she replied, clinging about his neck for a moment. “Oh, do take good care of yourself! and don’t be a bit troubled lest I should be lonesome. I shall do nicely and be oh, so glad to see you when you come back.”
She followed him out to the porch, with a book in her hand, and after seeing the hunting party disappear down the street, took a seat in a comfortable arm-chair in the shade of the vines, and amused herself with reading until joined by Marian with a basket of mending.
“There!” exclaimed Lulu, closing her book. “I have some stockings to darn. I’ll go and get them and my work-basket, and we’ll have a nice time together.”
“I’d like that very much,” Marian said, “but don’t let me hinder you from reading your book.”
“I’d rather stop reading and talk awhile. I’m remarkably fond of talking,” laughed Lulu, as she hurried into the house.
She was back again almost immediately, and as she resumed her seat Marian said, “I was glad to hear you say you were fond of talking, because I wish very much you would tell me about your home and your brothers and sisters—if you have any beside the one that is here.”
Lulu willingly complied with a glowing description of Woodburn, “Mamma Vi,” Gracie and the babies, and the happy life led there by the whole family.