“Papa, I’m thinking how he’ll miss the pleasant evenings at home—­the good talks with you,” sobbed the little girl.

“Yes, darling, but I will tell you what we will do to partly, at least, make up that loss to our dear boy.”

“What, papa?” she asked, lifting her head and looking up into his face, with her own brightening a little.

“Suppose we each keep a journal or diary, telling everything that goes on each day at home, and now and then send them to Maxie; so that he will know all that we are doing?”

“Oh, what a good thought, papa!” exclaimed Lulu, giving him a vigorous hug and kiss.  “And Maxie will write us nice, interesting letters; and some day he’ll come home for a visit and have ever so much to tell us.”

“Yes,” her father said, “and I think we will have interesting letters from him in the meantime.”

“And perhaps I’ll learn to like writing letters, when it’s just to please Maxie and comfort him,” said Grace, wiping away her tears and trying to smile.

“I hope so, darling,” her father replied, bestowing another kiss upon the sweet little tear-stained face.  “But now, my dears,” he added, “put on your hats; it is time to go back to the Dolphin.”

They hastened to obey, and he led them to the parlor, where they found the rest of the party ready to accompany them on board the yacht.

The sun was setting as they reached the Dolphin’s deck and they found a luxurious repast ready for them to partake of by the time outdoor garments could be laid aside and wind-tossed hair restored to order.

The captain missed the bright face of his first-born at the table, but, exerting himself for the entertainment of the others, seemed even more than usually cheery and genial, now and then indulging in some innocent jest that made his little girls laugh in spite of themselves, and at length almost forget, for the moment, their parting from Max, and their grief over the thought that he would no longer share their lessons or their sports, and would be at home only after what, in the prospect, seemed to them a long, long time; and then but for a little while.

On leaving the table all gathered upon deck.  There was no wind, but the yacht had a steam engine and used her sails only on occasions when they could be of service.  Stars shone brightly in the sky overhead, but their light was not sufficient to give an extended view on land or water, and as all were weary with the excitement and sightseeing of the day, they retired early to their berths.

Poor Grace, worn out with her unusual excitement, and especially the grief of the parting with Max, was asleep the instant her head touched the pillow.  Not so with Lulu; her loneliness and depression banished sleep from her eyes for the time, and presently she slipped from her berth, threw on a warm dressing-gown, and thrust her feet into felt slippers.  The next moment she stole noiselessly into the saloon where her father sat alone looking over an evening paper.