Grace was a highly interested listener.

“Oh,” she said, “I want to see the table when it’s all set and the good things on it!  I wonder if papa will let me eat any of them.”

“Maybe,” said Agnes; “but you know, Miss Grace, yo’s sickly,—­leastways, not bery strong,—­and de doctah doan’ let you eat rich things.”

“No,” returned the little girl, sighing slightly, “but I do have a good many nice things; and I’d rather eat plain victuals than be weak and sick.  Wouldn’t you, Agnes?”

“Yaas, I reckon.  Dere, you’s done finished, Miss Gracie, and looks sweet as a rosebud.”

“So she does,” said Lulu, coming hurrying in from her room, arrayed in her pretty cashmere, and with a wide, rich sash-ribbon in her hand.  “Now, Agnes, if you will please tie my sash, I’ll be ‘done finished’ too.”

“O Lu!” exclaimed Grace in loving admiration, “I’m sure you must look twice as sweet and pretty as I do.”

Their father opened the door, and stepped in just in time to hear her words, and, glancing smilingly from one to the other, said, “To papa’s eyes, both his dear little girls look sweet and lovable.  Agnes, their appearance does you credit.  Now, my darlings, we will go down to tea, for there is the bell.”

“Have the folks come, papa?” asked Grace, putting her hand into his.

“No, daughter:  they will probably not begin to come for an hour or so.”

“Then, are we going to have two suppers?”

“Yes, one for ourselves—­the children especially—­at the usual hour, and a later one for the company.  That last will be too late, and too heavy, for your weak digestion.”

“But not for Max’s and mine, will it, papa?” questioned Lulu.

“Yes, I fear so.”

“But we are strong and healthy.”

“And I wish to keep you so,” he said pleasantly; “but you may rest assured that I shall not deny you any enjoyment I think it safe to grant you.  Now sit down and be quiet till the blessing has been asked,”—­for they had reached the dining-room, and found Violet and Max there waiting for them.

Lulu had overheard a good deal of the glowing account of the coming feast to which Agnes had treated Grace, and, when at liberty to speak again, asked, in a rather discontented tone, if she and Max were not to have any share in the good supper being prepared for the expected guests.

Instead of answering directly, the captain turned to his son, and asked, “Max, what do you think of this supper?”

“It’s good enough for a king, sir,” returned the lad heartily, glancing over the table as he spoke,—­“the nicest of bread and butter, plenty of rich milk and cream, canned peaches and plums, and splendid gingerbread.  Why, Lu, what more could you ask?”

Lulu only blushed and hung her head in reply.

“I think it is a meal to be thankful for,” remarked Violet cheerily; “but, my dear, you will let them share in some of the lighter refreshments provided for the guests, won’t you?”