Her strength seemed giving way, and the captain half-carried her in and laid her down on a lounge which was so placed that it commanded a partial view of each of the four rooms.
Parlor, living-room, bedroom were all simply and inexpensively, yet tastefully, furnished, every comfort, including a luxuriously easy chair, provided for the invalid. White curtains at the windows, and vases of flowers set here and there, lent an air of elegance to the otherwise unpretending, modest apartments.
In the neat little kitchen a tidy, pleasant-faced colored woman was moving briskly about, evidently preparing the evening meal, while in the living-room a table was laid for two.
It was a delight to Lulu to lead Susan from room to room, calling her attention to all the beauties and conveniences, and explaining that Grandma Elsie had provided this, papa or Mamma Vi that.
“Mamma Vi,” repeated Susan inquiringly; “is it your mother you mean?”
“No—yes, my second mother, but not old enough to be really my mamma; that’s why Max and I put the Vi to it.”
“Come, daughter,” the captain said to Lulu as she and Susan re-entered the parlor, where they had left the others, “put on your hat; we are going home now.”
“Yes, it is time,” Mrs. Travilla said, taking Mrs. Allen’s hand in farewell. “We will leave you to rest, my good woman, for you look sadly in need of it. Sally has your supper nearly ready. I hope you will both enjoy it, and she will stay to wash the dishes and set everything to rights; so that you will have no occasion for exertion till to-morrow.”
“I think they are very happy,” Lulu remarked, as the carriage rolled away toward Woodburn; “and how delightful it is to be able to make other folks happy!”
“Yes,” said her father; “‘it is more blessed to give than to receive.’ We should be very thankful that we are in circumstances to be givers—stewards of God’s bounty. He has given largely to us, in order that we may distribute to others. He never intended that we should spend all on ourselves.”