Grace gazed fixedly at the picture for several minutes, then lifting tear-dimmed eyes to her father’s face, “How dear and sweet she does look, papa!” she said. “I can remember her only just a little, and this helps me to do it more. I’ll always know now how sweet and pretty my first mamma was.”
“Our very own mamma,” corrected Lulu emphatically.
“Yes, she was that,” the captain said; “and I would not have her children forget her. Neither would your Mamma Vi; she so wishes you to remember this dear mother of yours, that she has spent many hours in painting from a photograph, this likeness for you, Lulu, and another like it for Gracie; also she intends to paint one for Max.”
“Where is mine, papa?” queried Gracie eagerly.
“Here,” he said, taking from his pocket another locket, the fac-simile of Lulu’s except that the initials upon it were Grace’s own.
She received it with a transport of delight unusual with her; for hers was a much quieter temperament than that of her older sister.
“How good in Mamma Vi!” exclaimed Lulu; “especially,” she added, her cheeks growing hot with blushes, “considering the many times I’ve behaved badly to her.”
“So I think; and I trust, my dear child, that you will never again treat her with unkindness or disrespect,” said the captain gravely.
“Oh, I hope not! I’m sure I don’t intend to!” cried Lulu.
“Let’s go and thank her,” proposed Grace. “Mine’s every bit as sweet and lovely as yours, Lu.”