“Thank you, my darlings, I do not feel the need of either,” he answered, seating himself and drawing Grace to his knee, Lulu to his side, and putting an arm affectionately around each.
Max drew up a chair close to his father’s side. “Had you a pleasant time, papa?” he asked.
“Very; we happened upon quite a number of the relatives—Dr. Conly and his brother Calhoun, from Roselands, the Fairview family, Grandpa and Grandma Dinsmore, and Grandma Elsie. Some of them were spending the day, while others, like ourselves, had just dropped in for a call.”
At the sound of the carriage-wheels on the driveway, Prince, Max’s big Newfoundland dog, had come rushing round from the back of the house with a joyous welcoming bark. He was devotedly attached to every member of the family, to no one of them more than to the captain. He had followed Max into the hall and out again, and stood close beside him now, evidently considering himself entitled to make one of the little group; pushing himself a little farther in among them, he laid his head on Grace’s lap, wagging his tail in pleased expectancy, and looking up wistfully into the captain’s face.
“Good Prince! good dog!” the captain said kindly, stroking and patting the dog’s head. “How are you to-night, old fellow?”
“Wide awake, and glad to see you home, sir,” were the words that seemed to come from Prince’s own mouth in reply.
“What!” exclaimed the captain, hastily putting Grace off his knee to rise and turn round toward the open hall door, “Cousin Ronald here? Children, why didn’t you tell me he had come?”
He was moving quickly in the direction of the doorway as he spoke, the children exchanging amused glances and finding some difficulty in suppressing an inclination to laugh aloud.
The captain glanced within the hall, saw no one, though it was brilliantly lighted, then turning toward the little group, “Max,” he asked, “where is Mr. Lilburn?”
“I don’t know, papa; not here; at least, I have not seen or heard anything of him.”