"I thought I'd be the very first on deck; but here you both are before me," she added as she gained her father's side.
"But pleased to have you join us," he said, drawing her to a seat upon his knee. "A sweet Sabbath morning, is it not? And how did my little girl sleep?"
"As well as possible, thank you, papa. It is much cooler here than at Viamede now, and a delightful breeze came in at the window. But I almost always sleep well, and that is something to be thankful for, isn't it?"
"It is, indeed," he responded. "May my dear eldest daughter never be kept awake by the reproaches of a guilty conscience, cares and anxieties, or physical distress; though that last I can hardly hope she will escape always until she reaches that blessed land where 'the inhabitant shall not say, I am sick.'"
"Yes, sir," she said, "I ought to be very thankful that I am so healthy; I hope I am; but any kind of physical pain I have ever been tried with is far easier for me to bear than the reproaches of a guilty conscience. I can never forget how hard they were to endure after I had hurt dear little Elsie so because I was in a passion."
"I can't bear to think of that time," said Max; "so let us talk of something else. The view here is lovely, is it not, papa?"
"Oh," cried Lu in surprise, "we are at anchor again in the river at Annapolis, aren't we, papa?"
"Yes; I brought you all back here in the night, to spend the Sabbath. I think we will go into the city to church this morning, and have some religious exercises on the vessel this afternoon and evening."
"Oh, I like that plan, papa," said Max, "especially the afternoon part, for I am really hungry for one of those interesting Bible lessons with you for my teacher."
"Yes, Maxie, I pity you that you can't share them with Gracie and me every Sunday," said Lulu. "Papa, won't you give us—Max and Gracie and me—a private Bible lesson all to ourselves after the service for the grown folks, sailors and all, has been held, just as you used to do when we were all at home at Woodburn?"