Trunks had been packed and sent aboard the yacht, and before sundown the passengers followed; the bride and groom, Calhoun and Mary, and the captain with his entire family. It was not at all a sad good-by to either those who went or those who stayed behind, for it was expected that the Dolphin would touch frequently at that port, so that her passengers could pay a visit to the friends on shore, often on their return taking some of them for a short distance out to sea.
The evening air from the sea was very cool, and for Marian’s sake—she being as yet not far from on the invalid list—the older people confined themselves most of the time to the saloon. But Lulu, wrapping a shawl about her shoulders, went out upon the deck, where she seated herself and gazed silently out upon the sea.
They were steaming northward scarcely out of sight of the shore. It was a beautiful night, the moon shining brightly in the dark blue of the heavens, flecked here and there with soft, fleecy, white clouds, and the sea beneath looking like molten silver where her rays touched it.
Lulu enjoyed the sight and the delicious breeze that was blowing softly shoreward, yet her thoughts were on other matters and she was unusually silent and still. She had no one to talk to, but was very apt when alone at such time and place to sing softly to herself.
She had not moved for some minutes when she felt a hand laid gently on each shoulder, while her father’s voice asked in affectionate tones, “What is my little girl thinking of?” He bent down over her as he spoke and she looked up into his face.
“Oh, I’m so glad you have come, papa!” she said.
“Are you, daughter?” he returned, coming around, seating himself by her side, and putting an arm about her waist. “I don’t know when I have seen you so perfectly quiet and still. A penny for your thoughts.”
“They’re not worth a penny, papa,” she said laughingly, laying her head on his shoulder and looking up lovingly into his eyes. “I’m afraid they were rather foolish, but you can have them for nothing if you want them. You know I belong to you—I’m so glad I do—so you have a right to my thoughts; haven’t you?”
“We will leave that question to be considered at another time,” he returned laughingly, hugging her up closer and giving her a kiss; “but since you are willing, you may tell me what was the occasion of so much grave thought in this little careless head,” stroking her hair and repeating his caress.
“Well, then, papa, it was mostly about Marian I was thinking, and that I should not like to be in her place. I like Cousin Arthur ever so much for a doctor, but to have to leave my dear father and go to live with him instead would be just dreadful. But then her father can’t be one bit like mine, and I think that if I were his daughter I’d be glad enough to leave him for Dr. Conly.”