On the deck of a steamer rapidly ploughing her way down Lake Michigan, sat a gentleman with a little girl on his knee. His arm encircled her waist, hers was about his neck. He was a very handsome man, apparently considerably under thirty years of age; hardly old enough, a stranger would judge, to be the father of the bewitchingly beautiful child he held, though there seemed a world of fatherly affection in the clasp of his arm and the tenderness of his gaze into the sweet face now resting on his shoulder, while the soft brown eyes looked out dreamily over the water, now lifted to his with an expression of confiding filial love and reverence.
"Papa, I am having a delightful time," she said, softly stroking his face and beard with her small white hand.
"I am very glad, my darling, that you enjoy it so much, and I trust it is doing you good," he answered.
"Yes, papa, but I don't need it; I'm as well as can be now."
"Free from disease, but not yet quite so strong as papa would like to see you," he said, with a smile and a tender caress.
"Shall we be long on this boat, papa?"
"Until some time to-morrow morning, when, if all goes well, we expect to land at Michigan City, where we will take the stage for Pleasant Plains, the home of our cousins the Keiths. Do you remember your Cousin Mildred?"
"A very little, papa; I don't remember her looks, except that they were pleasant to me when she used to take me on her lap and hug and kiss me."
"Your grandpa wrote me that she was very kind to you. She is the only one of the family you have ever met."
"Please tell me about the rest, papa. Are Cousin Milly's father and mother my uncle and aunt?"