And they looked upon her as a kind, powerful friend, from whom they might ever expect with confidence, sympathy and help in their trials and struggles with life’s hard problems.
The birthday feast at the mansion was served somewhat later in the day; a banquet, not only of such things as appease the hunger of the physical man, but also “a feast of reason and a flow of soul.”
The celebration of Grandma Elsie’s semi-centennial was pronounced by every one so fortunate as to have a share in it to have been from beginning to end a most decided success.
CHAPTER VI.
Max and Lulu were on the veranda at Woodburn,—its only occupants. The western sky was all aglow with the gorgeous hues of a brilliant sunset; rich masses of purple, gold, amber, pale-green, and delicate rose color were piled from the horizon half way up to the zenith, while flecks, patches, and long streaks of flame, changing every moment—here spreading and deepening, there contracting and fading to paler tints—stretched above and beyond on every side.
It was a grand scene, and Max, who was whittling a bit of soft wood, paused for several minutes to gaze upon it with admiration and delight.
“What a splendid sunset!” he exclaimed, turning toward his sister.
But she was absorbed in a story-book, holding it in a way to catch the last beams of the fading light, and reading on with eager haste, utterly oblivious to the glories of the sunset sky, and the beauties of the grounds arrayed in all the verdure of June.
“Lu, you’re straining your eyes, reading by this fading light,” said Max. “If papa were here he would certainly tell you to stop at once.”
Lulu made no reply, but continued to read as if she had not heard the remark.