“You are not a prisoner any longer,” he said, caressing her:  “you are free to leave this room, and go where you choose about the house and grounds to-morrow.”

“But I don’t want to.  O papa!  I can’t face them!  Mayn’t I stay in my room till you are ready to take me to our own home?”

“You will have to face them sometime,” he said; “but we will see what can be done about it.  Would you like to see Max and Gracie to-night?”

“Gracie, ever so much; but Max—­I—­I don’t know how he feels toward me, papa.”

“Very kindly.  He has been asking permission to come in to see you; and Gracie has pleaded quite hard for it, and to have you forgiven, and told the good news.”

“Gracie always is so dear and kind,” she said tremulously; “and Maxie isn’t often cross with me.  Yes, papa, I should like to see them both.”

“Your friend Evelyn was here this afternoon, asking permission to come in to see you, but is gone now.  You may see her to-morrow, if you want to.  Ah!  I hear your brother and sister in the hall.”

He opened the door, and called to them.  They came bounding in, so full of delight over the pleasant prospect opening before them, as hardly to remember that Lulu had been in such dreadful disgrace.

“O Lu! has papa told you the good news?” they cried.

“Yes.”

“And aren’t you glad?”

“Yes; glad as glad can be.  But, oh, I wish the home was ready to go into to-night!”

Her father laughed.  “I think you were born in a hurry, Lulu,” he said.  “You are never willing to wait a minute for any thing.

“Well, I suppose you children would prefer to be left to yourselves for a while; so I will leave you.  You may talk fifteen minutes together, but no longer; as it is your bedtime now, Gracie’s at least.”

“O papa! don’t go!” they all exclaimed in a breath.  “Please stay with us:  we’d rather have you, a great deal rather!”

He could not resist their entreaties, so sat down, and drew his two little girls into his arms, while Max stationed himself close at his side.

“My dear children,” he said, “you can hardly be happier in the prospect before us than your father is.”

“Is mamma Vi glad?” asked Lulu.

“Yes; quite as much rejoiced, I think, as any of the rest of us.”

“But doesn’t she want me sent away to school or somewhere?” with a wistful, anxious gaze into his face.  “Is she willing to have me in the new home, papa?”

“Yes, daughter, more than willing:  she wants you to be under your father’s constant care and watchfulness, hoping that so he may succeed in teaching you to control your temper.”

“She’s very good and forgiving,” was Lulu’s comment in a low and not unmoved tone.

“Papa, when will you begin to look for the new home?” asked Grace, affectionately stroking his cheek and whiskers with her small white hand.