is never wise to break our hearts over
possibilities."

"But I know you and Max cannot help feeling anxious about both your
father and your little sisters; and that being the case, I do not think
you can study to any profit; and as the term has so nearly expired, I
shall, if you wish it, take you away from here at once.

"Not to Viamede, of course, but to Magnolia Hall, Mr. and Mrs. Embury
having sent you a warm invitation to make their house your home for the
present. What do you say to my proposition?"

"Oh, Grandpa Dinsmore, how nice and kind is Cousin Molly and her
husband!" exclaimed Lulu. "I shall be, oh, so glad to go away from, here,
especially to such a lovely home as theirs."

"Very well, then," he said with a smile, "go and gather up your
belongings, while I settle matters with Professor Manton; then I will
drive you both over to Magnolia Hall, for Max is included in the
invitation."

Lulu needed no second bidding, but started up at once to obey.

"I'll go with you, sis, and help you pack, if you like," said Max. The
offer was accepted gladly; and as Mr. Dinsmore's business with the
professor would take him to the house, all three walked thither together.

An hour later the children had bidden a final good-by to Oakdale, and
were on their way to Magnolia Hall.

Arrived there, they received a warm welcome, and Lulu was greatly pleased
to find Evelyn a guest also, and that they were to share the same room.

"Oh, Eva!" she cried, "I'm delighted that you are here; but I thought you
were staying at the parsonage."

"So I was," Evelyn said, "and Rosie was here; but we have exchanged; she
and Walter have gone to visit Cousin Isa, while you, Max, and I let
Cousin Molly entertain us in her turn. I find it delightful at both
places."

"But oh, Lu, how you have been crying! Is it about the sick little
sisters?"

"Partly," Lulu answered, hardly able to speak for emotion, "for they are
still in great danger; but oh, much worse than that! they say--that--that
it's feared papa's ship is lost with--all on board. Oh, Eva, I've been so
disobedient to my father for months past, and now--I'm afraid I'll never,
never see him again!"

Before she had finished her sentence, Evelyn's arms were around her,
holding her close, while she wept with her.

"I can feel for you, dear," she sobbed, "for I know only too well how
dreadful it is to be fatherless; but it is only a report, which may be
false. Do try to hope for t