“You haven’t quit loving her, papa? you won’t?” Grace said, half entreatingly, half inquiringly.

“No, daughter, oh, no!” he replied with emotion.  “I don’t know what would ever make me quit loving any one of my dear children.”

He drew her closer, and kissed her fondly as he spoke.

“I am very glad of that, papa,” said Max feelingly; “for though I do mean to be always a good son to you, if I ever should do any thing very, very bad, I’d not be afraid to confess it to you.  I could stand punishment, you know; but I don’t think I could bear to have you give up being fond of me.”

A warm pressure of the lad’s hand was the captain’s only reply at first; but presently he said, “I trust you will always be perfectly open with me, my dear boy.  You don’t think, do you, that you could have a better—­more disinterested—­earthly friend than your father?”

“No, sir! oh, no, indeed!”

“Then make me your confidant,” his father said, with a smile and look that spoke volumes of fatherly pride and affection; “let me into all your secrets.  Now that I am to be with you constantly, I shall take a deeper interest than ever in all that concerns you,—­if that be possible,—­in your studies, your sports, your thoughts and feelings.  You may always be sure of my sympathy, and such help as I can give in every right and wise undertaking.”

“I’ll do that, papa!” Max exclaimed with a sudden, glad, lighting-up of the face.  “Why, it’ll be as good as having the brother I’ve often wished for!” he added with a pleased laugh; “better, in some ways, anyhow; for you’ll be so much wiser than any boy, and keep me out of scrapes with your good advice.”

“Papa,” queried Grace, with a little bashful hesitation, “mayn’t I have you for my friend too?”

“Yes, indeed, my darling little girl!” he answered with a hug and kiss.  “I should like to be quite as intimate with you as I hope to be with Max.”

“With Lulu too?” she asked.

“Yes; with every one of my children.”

Max had averted his face to hide his amusement at his little sister’s question in regard to her father’s friendship for herself, for the timid, sensitive little girl could hardly bear to be laughed at; but now he turned to his father again with the query,—­

“Papa, where are we going to live?”

“I don’t know yet, Max,” the captain answered; “but I hope to be able to buy or build somewhere in this neighborhood, as I should be loath to take your mamma far away from her mother,—­myself either, for that matter; and I presume you would all prefer to live near these kind friends?”

“I am sure I should,” said Max.  “But, papa,”—­he paused, coloring, and casting down his eyes.

“Well, my boy, what is it? don’t be afraid to talk freely to your intimate friend,” his father said in a kindly tone, and laying a hand affectionately on the lad’s shoulder.

“Please don’t think me impertinent, papa,” Max said, coloring still more, “but I was just going to ask how you could live without your pay; as I have heard you say it was nearly all you had.”