Mr. and Mrs. Dinsmore and Elsie--to look
toward the door opening into the hall.

Max stood there with a face from which every vestige of color had fled,
his features quivering with emotion.

"What--what is it about, papa?" he asked hoarsely. "Oh, Grandpa Dinsmore,
Grandma Elsie, don't hide it from me! I must know!"

"Max, my boy, how came you here?" Mr. Dinsmore asked in a kindly pitying
tone, going to the lad and making him sit down, while he took a glass of
water from the table and held it to his lips.

Max put it aside. "My father?--what about my father?"

His tone was full of agonized inquiry, and Mr. Dinsmore saw the question
was not to be evaded.

"My poor fellow," he said, "I am truly sorry you should be distressed by
hearing what is as yet only a rumor: fears are reported that your
father's vessel is lost; but nothing is known certainly yet, and we must
hope for the best."

For a moment the boy seemed utterly stunned; then, "I don't believe it! I
_won't_ believe it!" he exclaimed. "We can't do without him; and God
wouldn't take him from us. Would He, Grandma Elsie?" and his eyes sought
hers with a look of anguished entreaty that she knew not how to
withstand.

"My dear Max, I trust we shall have better news to-morrow," she said
tenderly; "but whatever comes, we know that all things work together for
good to them that love God. He is our kind, Heavenly Father, who loves us
with far more than an earthly parent's love, and will let no real evil
befall any of His children."

"Yes, and--oh, I'm sure it couldn't be good for Lulu and me to be without
our father to help us to grow up right."

No one present thought it necessary to combat that idea, or show that it
might be a mistaken one, since it seemed to afford some comfort to the
boy.

"We will hope for the best, Max; so do not let possibilities distress
you," Mr. Dinsmore said kindly. "Come to the table now, and take some
breakfast with us."

"Thank you, sir; but I couldn't eat," returned Max brokenly. "Grandma
Elsie, how are Gracie and baby?"

"I'm afraid no better, Max," she said in faltering tones; "the crisis of
the disease has not yet come; but in regard to them also we must try to
hope for the best. Indeed, whatever the result, we shall know it is for
the best," she added with tears in her soft, sweet eyes, "because 'He
doeth all things well.'"

It was Saturday, and there was no school; but Max had promised Lulu that
he would go over to Oak