"Yes; I can say the same; she is a dear girl, and Max could have done nothing to please me better," was the captain's answering remark.
"And she loves you, father," returned Lucilla, smiling up into his eyes; "which of course seems very strange to me."
"Ah? although I know you to be guilty of the very same thing yourself," he returned with an assured smile and pressing affectionately the hand he held in his.
"Ah, but having been born your child, how can I help it?" she asked with a happy little laugh. Then went on, "Father, I've been thinking how it would do for you to make that house you have been talking of building near your own, big enough for two families—Max's and Eva's, Chester's and mine."
"Perhaps it might do," he answered pleasantly, "but it is hardly necessary to consider the question yet."
"No, sir," she returned. "Oh, I am glad I do not have to leave my sweet home in my father's house for months or maybe years yet. I do so love to be with you that I don't know how I can ever feel willing to leave you; even for Chester, whom I do really love very dearly."
"And I shall find it very hard to have you leave me," he said. "But we expect to be near enough to see almost as much of each other as we do now."
"Yes, papa, that's the pleasant part of it," she said with a joyous look; then went on, "Chester has been talking to me about plans for the house, but I tell him that, as you said just now, it is hardly time to think about them yet."
"There would be no harm in doing so, however," her father said; "no harm in deciding just what you want before work on it is begun. I should like to make it an ideal home for my dear eldest daughter."
"Thank you, father dear," she said. "I do think you are just the kindest father ever anyone had."