“And the slates and books are for the younger children?”
“Yes, sir; and those other things are for the Jones children. You know their father doesn’t buy them anything to wear, and sometimes he takes the clothes other folks give them and sells them to buy liquor.”
“Yes, it is very sad, and we must do the best we can for them. But you have not put down anything for my little Grace; is there nothing she would like to have?”
“I don’t need anything at all, papa. I have so many, many nice things already.”
“But I want to give you something to help to keep you from being lonely while Lulu is enjoying herself in the far West. Ah, I see there is something! What is it?”
“A canary bird, papa, that will sing beautifully.”
“Dear child,” he said, holding her close, “you shall have the finest that money can buy; a pair of them; and the handsomest cage we can find. I shall take you to the city to-morrow and let you choose them for yourself.”
“Oh, how nice, papa!” she cried, clapping her hands in delight; “then they will have a pretty home and be company for each other. I was afraid one would be lonesome all by itself. I was thinking, too, that I’d be ever so lonely, at night especially, without Lu; but mamma says she will take me in with her while you are gone.”
“Very kind and thoughtful in mamma,” was the captain’s comment.
“You’ll take me to buy them to-morrow afternoon, will you, papa?” she asked.