“Quite, thank you; but about yourself, Eric?  Would it not be well to have other advice?”

“I believe there is none better than I have had, brother,” Eric said.  Then turning to caress the little one in its nurse’s arms, “What a fine little fellow! a truly beautiful child, Sister Elsie.  Ah, Lester I rejoice that you have a son to keep up the family name.  May he live to be a great blessing to you both!”

“How sweet and pretty he is!” Evelyn said, caressing him in her turn.  “Aunt Elsie, shall I show you to your room?”

“If you please, dear.”  And they passed on into the house together, while Eric dropped exhausted into an easy-chair, and Lester took possession of another close at his side.

“You are very weak, Eric,” he remarked, in a tone of mingled affection and concern; “and I fear suffer a great deal of pain.”

“Yes, a good deal at times; but,” he added with a joyous smile, “I shall soon be in that land where there shall be no more pain, and the inhabitants shall not say ‘I am sick.’”

“Don’t speak of it,” said Lester hoarsely; “I must hope there are yet years of life in this world before you.”

“What a very pleasant room; what a delightful prospect from that window looking toward the river!” Elsie exclaimed, as Evelyn led the way into the spacious, airy apartment set apart for the occupation of herself and husband during their stay.

“I think it is,” Evelyn returned in a quiet tone; “that was the reason papa and I selected it for you.  We have two other spare rooms, but this is the largest and has the loveliest views from its windows.”

“Thank you, dear.  Is your mamma well?”

“I suppose so; she was when we heard last, a day or two ago.  She is at Newport, Aunt Elsie; she found herself so worn out, she said, with attending to the claims of society, that a trip to the seashore was quite a necessity.  Do you put the claims of society before everything else, Aunt Elsie?”

“Indeed no,” returned Elsie, with a happy laugh.  “I’m afraid I put them last on my list:  husband, baby, mother, grandpa, brothers and sisters, all come before society with me.”

“So they shall with me when I’m a woman,” said Evelyn with decision; “and papa shall always, always be first.  I don’t know how mamma can bear to be away from him so much; especially now when he is so weak and ailing.  And I am quite mortified that she is not here to welcome you.  She said she would be back in time, but now writes that she finds Newport so delightful, and the sea-breezes doing her so much good, that she can’t tear herself away just yet.”

“Well, dear, as she is your mother and my sister, we will try not to criticise or find fault with her,” responded Elsie, in a gently soothing tone.

“No; I ought not,” acknowledged Evelyn; “papa never does; at least not to me.  Mamma said she thought we could entertain you for a short time, and we mean to do our best.”