you; for you are an honest child."

The cloud lifted slightly from Lulu's brow at those kindly words. She
gave the promise, and walked slowly away.

As she descended the stairway that led down the face of the cliff, she
saw that Edward and Zoe were sitting side by side on one of the benches
under the awning.

She did not fancy their company just now, and knew hers would not be
acceptable to them. She thought she would pass them and seat herself in
the sand a little farther on.

Edward was speaking as she came up behind them, and she heard him say,
"It was the most uncomfortable meal ever eaten in our family; and all
because of that ungovernable child."

Lulu flushed hotly, and stepping past turned and confronted him with
flashing eyes.

"I heard you, Uncle Edward," she said, "though I had no intention of
listening; and I say it is very unjust to blame me so when it was
Rosie's insulting tongue and other people's cold, contemptuous looks
that almost drove me wild."

"You are much too easily driven wild," he said. "It is high time you
learned to have some control over your temper. If I were your father I'd
teach it you, even if I must try the virtue of a rod again and again;
also you should learn proper submission to authority, if it had to be
taught in the same manner."

Lulu was too angry to speak for a moment; she stood silent, trembling
with passion, but at length burst out: "It's none of your business how
papa manages me, Mr. Travilla; and I'm very glad he's my father instead
of you!"

"You are a very saucy girl, Lulu Raymond," said Zoe, reddening with
anger on her husband's account, "and shamefully ungrateful for all Mr.
Travilla's kind exertions on your behalf last night."

"Hush, hush, Zoe; do not remind her of it," Edward said. "'A benefit
upbraided forfeits thanks.' I should have done quite the same for any
one supposed to be in danger and distress."

"What was it?" asked Lulu; "nobody told me he had done anything."

"He was out for hours in all that storm, hunting you," replied Zoe, with
a proudly admiring glance at her husband.

"I'm very much obliged," said Lulu, her voice softening. "And sorry you
suffered on my account," she added.

"I did not suffer anything worth mentioning," he responded; "but your
mamma was sorely distressed--thinking you might be in the sea--and, in
consequence, had a dreadful headache all night. And since such dire
consequences may follow upon your disregard for rul