“Then you shall, my darling,” he returned, and taking her hand led her into the library, seated her before her typewriter, supplied paper and envelopes, and began dictating to her as on the two former occasions.

“It grieves me to rob my dear little girl of any of her holiday time,” he remarked, as the first letter was completed, laying his hand caressingly on her head.  “Your father loves to see you enjoying yourself.”

“Yes, dear papa, I know that,” she replied, with a pleased loving look up into his face, “but there is nothing I enjoy more than feeling that I can be of a little help and comfort to you.”

“Well, it will not take us long to answer these letters—­there are but few to-day—­and perhaps you may enjoy your sports all the more afterward,” he replied, handing her a fresh sheet of paper.

“This, from our dear Max, is the only one left now,” he remarked presently; “and he, I know, would rather have his reply in papa’s own handwriting; but, shall I read this to you, daughter?”

“Oh, I should like to hear it, papa!” was her eager response.  “Please, may I sit on your knee while I listen?”

“Indeed you may,” he answered, drawing her to the coveted seat and putting his arm about her waist.  “Maxie does write such good, interesting letters, and I’m so much obliged to you for reading this one to me, papa,” she said, when he had finished.

“You are very welcome, daughter; and now you may go back to your mates while I write my reply.”

On the veranda family letters had been read and discussed, meanwhile, and when Lulu joined the group they were again talking of the approaching Christmas and what gifts should be prepared for relatives, near and dear friends, and servants.

Grandma Elsie, seated in their midst, was looking quite her old self—­very bright, beautiful, and sweet.

“With the housekeeping given in charge to Vi,” she was saying, as Lulu drew near, “I shall have abundance of spare time and hope to prepare many gifts for——­”

“No,” interrupted her father, “you are to do nothing of the kind; but must devote yourself to the business of gaining strength as fast as possible.”

She laughed pleasantly at that, saying, “My vacation has been a long one already, papa, for I have really done nothing worth speaking of since we returned home from the North.”

“And what of that, daughter?” he responded.  “You have never been an idler, but it seems to be time now for you to begin.  Let your vacation go on till next spring.  That is my prescription for you.”

“Ah, ha, mamma!” laughed Rosie, “the captain forbids Christmas-gift making for us younger ones, and I’m mighty glad grandpa forbids it to you.  ‘Misery loves company,’ you know.”

“I hope my Rosie may never be called upon to share any worse misery,” was the smiling rejoinder.  “Also that she will show herself as obedient to the captain as I intend to be to her kind, loving grandpa—­so tenderly careful of his daughter,” with a fond look up into the face of her father, standing by her side.