“Thanks, sir,” returned Short, bowing and smiling in acknowledgment. “And these are the son and daughter you wrote me you would bring with you?” he remarked, with an inquiring glance at the children.
“Yes,” replied the captain, looking down at the two with fatherly pride and affection. “Max and Lulu are their names. I am so domestic a man that I could not persuade myself to leave all my family behind when expecting to be absent so long from home.”
“Yes, sir; I’m not surprised at that. Well, sir, I think Mrs. McAlpine will make you comfortable. She has two sets of boarders, mill operatives and miners, who eat in the kitchen, and a few gentlemen and a lady or two who take their meals in the dining-room. But she has agreed to give up her own private sitting-room at meal times to you and your family (as you stated in your letter of instruction you wished a private table for yourself and children); for a consideration, of course,” he added with a laugh. “But knowing you could well afford it, and were not disposed to be close, I did not hesitate to accept her terms.”
“Quite right,” replied the captain. “And as to sleeping accommodations?”
“She can let you have a room of pretty good size for yourself and son, with a small one opening into it for the little girl—or perhaps I should rather say the young lady—your daughter.”
“She is only a little girl,—her father’s little girl, as she likes to call herself,” returned the captain, smiling down at Lulu and affectionately pressing the hand she had slipped into his while they stood talking.
“Yes,” she said, laughing and blushing, “I do like it; I’m not in a bit of a hurry to be a young lady.”
“No, Miss, I wouldn’t if I were you,” laughed Mr. Short. “Those changes come to us all only too fast. Shall I show you the way to your quarters, captain? I did not order a carriage, as it is hardly more than a step; and judging by my own past experience, I thought you’d be glad of a chance to use your limbs after being cramped up in the cars for so long.”
“You were not mistaken in that. I think we all feel it rather a relief,” the captain made answer, as they moved on together.
A very short walk brought them to the door of the boarding-house. They were admitted by a rather comely girl, apparently about fifteen years of age, whom their conductor addressed as “Miss Marian,” and introduced as the daughter of Mrs. McAlpine. She invited them into the parlor, and went in search of her mother, returning with her almost immediately. She was a middle-aged woman, with a gentle, ladylike manner, that was very pleasing, and the remains of considerable beauty, but had, Captain Raymond thought, one of the saddest faces he had ever seen; there were depths of woe in the large gray eyes that touched him to the heart; yet the prevailing expression of her countenance was that of patient resignation.