he good-morning
kiss she was always ready to bestow.

Lulu's heartache had found some relief in her confidence to her sister,
and she showed a pleasanter and more cheerful face at the table than
Violet expected to see her wear.

It grew brighter still when she learned that they were all to have a
long, delightful drive over the hills and moors, starting almost
immediately upon the conclusion of the meal.

The weather was charming, everybody in most amiable mood, and spite of
the pain of the recent parting from him whom they so dearly loved, that
would occasionally make itself felt in the hearts of wife and children,
the little trip was an enjoyable one to all.

Just as they drew up at the cottage door on their return, a blast of
Captain Baxter's tin horn announced his arrival with the mail, and
Edward, waiting only to assist the ladies and children to alight,
hurried off to learn if they had any interest in the contents of the
mailbag.

CHAPTER VIII.

"Be not too ready to condemn
The wrongs thy brothers may have done;
Ere ye too harshly censure them
For human faults, ask, 'Have I none?'"

--_Miss Eliza Cook_.

The little girls took up their station at the front door to watch for
"Uncle Edward's" return.

Gracie presently cried out joyfully, "Oh, he's coming with a whole
handful of letters! I wonder if one is from papa."

"I'm afraid not," said Lulu; "he would hardly write last night, leaving
us so late as he did, and hardly have time before the leaving of the
early boat this morning."

The last word had scarcely left her lips when Edward reached her side
and put a letter into her hand--a letter directed to her, and
unmistakably in her father's handwriting.

"One for you, too, Vi," he said gayly, tossing it into her lap through
the open window.

"Excuse the unceremonious delivery, sister mine. Where are grandma and
mamma? I have a letter for each of them."

"Here," answered his mother's voice from within the room; then as she
took the missives from his hand, "Ah, I knew papa would not forget
either mamma or me."

"Where's my share, Ned?" asked Zoe, issuing from the inner room, where
she had been engaged in taking off her hat and smoothing her fair
tresses.

"Your share? Well, really I don't know; unless you'll accept the
mail-carrier as such," he returned sportively.

"Captain Baxter?" she asked in mock astonishment. "I'd rather have a
letter by half."

"But you can't have eithe