The weather was charming, everybody in most amiable mood, and spite of the pain of the recent parting from him whom they so dearly loved, that would occasionally make itself felt in the hearts of wife and children, the little trip was an enjoyable one to all.
Just as they drew up at the cottage door on their return, a blast of Captain Baxter's tin horn announced his arrival with the mail, and Edward, waiting only to assist the ladies and children to alight, hurried off to learn if they had any interest in the contents of the mailbag.
CHAPTER VIII.
"Be not too ready to condemn
The wrongs thy brothers may have done;
Ere ye too harshly censure them
For human faults, ask, 'Have I none?'"
—Miss Eliza Cook.
The little girls took up their station at the front door to watch for
"Uncle Edward's" return.
Gracie presently cried out joyfully, "Oh, he's coming with a whole handful of letters! I wonder if one is from papa."
"I'm afraid not," said Lulu; "he would hardly write last night, leaving us so late as he did, and hardly have time before the leaving of the early boat this morning."
The last word had scarcely left her lips when Edward reached her side and put a letter into her hand—a letter directed to her, and unmistakably in her father's handwriting.
"One for you, too, Vi," he said gayly, tossing it into her lap through the open window.