letter from her husband.

She had barely time to glance over it, learning when and where it was
written, and that he was well at the time of writing, when the tea-bell
rang.

She slipped the precious missive into her pocket with a little sigh of
satisfaction, and joined the others at the table with a very bright and
happy face.

She had not been the only fortunate one; her mother had cheering news from
Herbert and Harold, Mrs. Dinsmore some sprightly, gossipy letters from her
sisters Adelaide and May, whose contents furnished topics of lively
discourse, in which Violet took part.

She had not mentioned her own letter, but at length Edward, noting the
brightness of her countenance, asked, "Good news from the captain, Vi?"

"Yes, thank you," she said; "he was well and seemingly in excellent
spirits at the time of writing, though he says he misses wife and children
sorely."

All three of his children turned toward her with eager, questioning looks,
Max and Lulu asking, "Didn't papa write to us, too?"

"He sends you a message, dears," Violet said. "I have not really read the
letter yet, but shall do so after supper, and you shall all surely have
your share of it."

On leaving the table they followed her to the door of her boudoir.

"May we come in, Mamma Vi?" Max asked, with a wistful look.

"Certainly," she answered in a pleasant tone, though longing to be quite
alone while giving her precious letter its first perusal; "I would have
you feel as free to come into my apartments as I always have felt to go
into mamma's. Sit down and make yourselves comfortable, dears, and you
shall hear presently what your papa says.

"The letter was written on shipboard, brought into New York by another
vessel and there mailed to me."

Max politely drew up a chair near the light for Violet, another for Lulu,
placed Gracie's own little rocker close to her mamma's side, then stood
behind it prepared to give close attention to the reading of his father's
letter.

Violet omitted a little here and there--expressions of tender affection
for herself, or something else evidently intended for her eye alone. The
captain wrote delightful letters; at least they were such in the esteem of
his wife and children. This one provoked to both laughter and tears, he
had so amusing a way of relating trivial incidents, and some passages were
so tenderly affectionate.

But something near the close brought an anxious, troubled look to Max's
face,