As he drew rein at the foot of the steps, and lifted his hat to the ladies, Zoe and Rosie came hurriedly forward to get a nearer view.  The first exclaimed,—­

“What a beautiful pony!  Where did he come from, Max?”

Rosie asking, “Whose is he?”

“Mine; a present from papa,” replied Max, sitting proudly erect, and patting the pony’s neck; “but I don’t know where he came from, aunt Zoe.  You’ll have to ask papa if you want to know.”

“You’re in luck, Maxie,” she said lightly.

“Yes, indeed.  I was born in luck when I was born my father’s son.”

“Of course you were,” she returned, laughing.  “Where are the others?  Oh, here they come!” as she caught sight of the captain’s new carriage just turning in at the avenue-gates.

Those who were in it were a gay and happy party, who, all the way as they came, had been discussing plans for making the new home more convenient, comfortable, and beautiful, and for the life they were to live in it.

Woodburn was the principal theme of conversation in the evening also, the entire family being gathered together in the parlor, and no visitors present.

“Tell us about your nursery, Vi,” said her mother:  “where is it to be?”

“Next to our sleeping-room, mamma, on the other side from Gracie’s:  you may be sure we want our little ones near us.”

“But is it a pleasant room?”

“None brighter or cheerier in the house, mamma; it is of good size too; and we mean to have it furnished with every comfort, and in a way to make it as attractive as possible.”

“Pleasantly suggestive pictures among other things?”

“Yes, mamma.  I know, from my own happy experience, that they have a great deal to do with educating a child.”

“In both morals and art?” said the captain, looking smilingly at her.  “I should think so, judging from what my wife is; and surely, it is reasonable to expect a child to be, to some extent, a reflection of its surroundings; refined or vulgar, according to the style of faces—­living or pictured—­it is constantly gazing upon, etc.  But, however that may be, we will try to keep upon the safe side, furnishing only what must have a good influence, so far as it has any at all.”

Lulu was there, sitting as close to her father as she could well get.  She had a feeling that it was the only safe place for her.

“Shall I have some pictures on my walls, papa?” she asked in a low aside.

“Yes:  we will go some day soon to the city, and choose some fine engravings for your rooms, Max’s and Gracie’s; furniture, too, carpets, curtains, and new paper for the walls.”

“Oh, but that will be delightful!” she exclaimed.  “Papa, you are just too good and kind for any thing.”

Max, who was near at hand, had overheard.  “That’s so!” he said.  “I suppose you mean that I am to go too, papa?”

“Yes; Gracie also.  My dear,” to Violet, “when will it suit you to accompany us?—­to-morrow?”