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Title: Elsie and Her Loved Ones Author: Martha Finley Release Date: February 25, 2015 [EBook #48357] Language: English Character set encoding: UTF-8 *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ELSIE AND HER LOVED ONES *** Produced by David Edwards, Emmy and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive) ELSIE AND HER LOVED ONES cover A LIST OF THE ELSIE BOOKS BY MARTHA FINLEY ELSIE DINSMORE ELSIE’S HOLIDAYS AT ROSELANDS ELSIE’S GIRLHOOD ELSIE’S WOMANHOOD ELSIE’S MOTHERHOOD ELSIE’S CHILDREN ELSIE’S WIDOWHOOD GRANDMOTHER ELSIE ELSIE’S NEW RELATIONS ELSIE AT NANTUCKET THE TWO ELSIES ELSIE’S KITH AND KIN ELSIE’S FRIENDS AT WOODBURN CHRISTMAS WITH GRANDMA ELSIE ELSIE AND THE RAYMONDS ELSIE YACHTING WITH THE RAYMONDS ELSIE’S VACATION ELSIE AT VIAMEDE ELSIE AT ION ELSIE AT THE WORLD’S FAIR ELSIE’S JOURNEY ON INLAND WATERS ELSIE AT HOME ELSIE ON THE HUDSON ELSIE IN THE SOUTH ELSIE’S YOUNG FOLKS ELSIE’S WINTER TRIP ELSIE AND HER LOVED ONES ELSIE AND HER NAMESAKES ELSIE AND HER LOVED ONES BY MARTHA FINLEY NEW YORK DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY Publishers Copyright, 1903, By DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY. ——— Published, November, 1903. ELSIE AND HER LOVED ONES CHAPTER I It was a lovely spring day—very lovely at Viamede, where Mrs. Travilla—or Grandma Elsie, as some of her young friends loved to call her—was seated under the orange trees on the flower-bespangled lawn, with her father and his wife, her cousins, Mr. Ronald Lilburn and Annis, his wife, her children, and some of the more distant relatives and friends gathered about her or wandering here and there at some little distance on the same beautiful lawn. “What a beautiful place this is!” exclaimed Zoe, breaking a pause in the conversation. [1] “Yes,” said her husband, “but I am thinking it is about time we returned to our more northern homes.” “I think it is,” said his grandfather, Mr. Dinsmore. “I also; I feel as if I had been neglecting my business shamefully,” sighed Chester. At that Dr. Harold shook his head smilingly. “Don’t let conscience reproach you, Chester, for what has probably saved you from invalidism and perhaps prolonged your life for years.” “Well, cousin doctor, you will surely admit that I am well enough to go back to work now?” laughed Chester. “Perhaps; but wait a little till you hear a plan I have to propose. Mother,” he went on, turning to her, “I met a gentleman yesterday who has just returned from California, which he pronounces the loveliest, most salubrious section of our country, and what he had to say of its climate and scenery has aroused in me a strong desire to visit it, taking you all with me—especially those of our party who are my patients.” “Hardly at this time of year; though, I suppose, Harold,” she replied, giving him a look of loving appreciation, “it would seem wiser to move in a northerly direction before the summer heats come on.” “Well, mother, this gentleman says the summers there are really more enjoyable than the winters, and the map shows us that Santa Barbara is a few degrees farther north than we are here, and San Francisco some few degrees north of that. It is not a tropical, but a semi-tropical climate, and for every month in the year you need the same sort of clothing that you wear in New York or Chicago in the winter. He tells me that for two-thirds of the year the weather is superb— the heat rare above 68 degrees and almost always tempered by a refreshing breeze from the ocean or the mountains. Sometimes there are fogs, but they don’t bring with them the raw, searching dampness of our eastern ones. Indeed, from all I have heard and read of the climate I think it would be most beneficial for these patients of mine,” Harold concluded, glancing smilingly from one to another. “And a most enjoyable trip for us all, I have no doubt,” said Captain Raymond. “How about the expense?” queried Chester. “Never mind about that,” said the captain. “I claim the privilege of bearing it for the party. How many will go?” “The Dolphin could hardly be made to hold us all, papa,” laughed Grace. “No; nor to cross the plains and mountains,” returned her father with an amused smile. “We would go by rail and let those who prefer going home at once do so in our yacht.” At that Edward Travilla, standing near, looked greatly pleased. “That is a most kind and generous offer, captain,” he said, “and I for one shall be very glad to accept it.” “We will consider that you have done so,” returned the captain, “and you can begin engaging your passengers as soon as you like. But I am forgetting that I should first learn how many will accept my invitation for the land trip. Grandpa and Grandma Dinsmore, you will do so, will you not? And you, mother, Cousin Ronald and Cousin Annis?” There was a slight demur, a little asking and answering of questions back and forth, which presently ended in a pleased acceptance of the captain’s generous invitation by all who had come with him in the Dolphin—Violet, his wife, with their children, Elsie and Ned; his older daughters, Lucilla and Grace, with Chester, Lucilla’s husband, and Grace’s lover, Dr. Harold Travilla; Evelyn, Max’s wife, and last but not least in importance, Grandma Elsie, Mr. and Mrs. Dinsmore—her father and his wife—and the cousins—Mr. Ronald Lilburn and Annis, his wife. All had become greatly interested, and the talk was very cheery and animated. Different routes to California were discussed, and it was presently decided to go by the Southern Pacific, taking the cars at New Orleans—and that they would make an early start, as would those who were to return home in the Dolphin. “May I take my Tiny along, papa?” asked Elsie, standing by his side with the little monkey on her shoulder. “I think not, daughter,” he replied; “she would be very apt to get lost while we are wandering about in that strange part of the country.” “Then I suppose I’ll have to leave her here till we come back; and do you think any of the servants can be trusted to take good care of her and not let her get lost in the woods, papa?” asked the little girl in tones quivering with emotion. “If you will trust me to take care of her she can go home with us in the yacht and live at Ion till you come for her,” said Zoe. Then, turning to Ned, who was there with his pet: “And I make you the same offer for your Tee-tee,” she added, “for, of course, if Elsie’s can’t be trusted to go to California, neither can yours.” “Thank you, Aunt Zoe,” both children answered, but in tones that told of regret that even for a time they must resign the care of their pets to another. “And we’ll have Tiny and Tee-tee in the yacht with us. How nice that will be!” exclaimed little Eric Leland. “They are fine, amusing little fellows, and you may be sure, Elsie and Ned, that we will take good care of them.” [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] “And be willing to give them back to us when we get home?” asked Elsie. “Honest enough to do so, I hope, whether we’re willing or not,” laughed Eric. “Yes, of course we would,” said his sister, Alie, “for we are honest folks; but I’m glad we can have the cute little monkeys with us even for awhile.” “On the yacht you will, but I think we’ll have them at Ion after we get home,” said Lily Travilla, the little daughter of Edward and Zoe, “because it’s papa and mamma who have promised to take care of them.” “Yes,” said Elsie, “and I’m sure Uncle Edward and Aunt Zoe will be good to them—so good that I’m most afraid they’ll grow fonder of them than of Ned and me.” “Oh, no, I don’t think there is any danger of that,” said Zoe, “and if they should, you can soon win their hearts back again by your love and kindness.” “Oh, I do believe we can, Aunt Zoe; for the dear little things love us now, I’m sure,” cried Elsie, giving Tiny a hug and a loving pat. But the older people were chatting about the necessary preparations for the journey, and the children grew quiet to listen. Their plans were laid in a few moments, and within twenty-four hours all embarked for New Orleans, in the same boat, and on reaching that city the two companies parted, Edward and his charges starting eastward in the Dolphin, Captain Raymond and his taking a westward-bound train on the Southern Pacific. The little company, especially the younger ones, were in fine spirits; they were pleasant companions for each other, the weather was fine, and the prospect of sight-seeing before them quite delightful. The children had many questions to ask about what they should see in California, which the older people, especially their father, were kindly ready to answer. “At what place will we stop first, papa?” asked Elsie. “At Coronado Beach, which is not very far from Los Angeles. We will take rooms at the Hotel del Coronado, which is an immense building, yet very homelike and delightful. It has an inner court, with trees, flowers and vines, and around that court many suites of rooms, each with its own bath and sitting-room, so that a party of guests such as ours can be very comfortable and as private as they please.” “And if they don’t want to be very private I suppose they can mingle with other folks, can’t they, papa?” asked Ned. “Yes, indeed; there is almost every kind of amusement that is found elsewhere. Probably fishing and yachting, walking and driving along the beach, will suit us as well or better than anything else; there is a drive of twelve miles along the beach at low tide.” “But I fear we will find it too warm for outdoor sports at this time of year,” remarked Mrs. Dinsmore. “No, grandma, I think not,” said Dr. Harold. “I have been told the summer climate is better than the winter—never too warm for comfort, dry and tempered as it is by the ocean breeze. You do not find there the raw, searching dampness felt at Eastern seaside resorts; but I’m told it is too cold for the comfort of invalids during the March rains. They are happily over now, and I think that even our invalids will find the weather comfortably warm.” “And comfortably cool?” queried his mother, giving him a proudly affectionate look and smile. “I think the ocean breeze will make it that, mother,” he answered, returning her smile with one as full of affection as her own. “I do believe we are going to have a delightful time,” exclaimed Lucilla in joyous tones; “everything will be so new and fresh—lovely scenery, beautiful plants and flowers, and the climate all that one could desire.” “Well, I hope you will not be disappointed, daughter,” the captain said; “but California is not heaven and you must expect some unpleasantnesses.” “I hope there won’t be sicknesses,” said Grace. “No,” said Evelyn sportively, “we must all try to keep well that our good doctor may not be robbed of his vacation.” “Thanks, Mrs. Raymond,” said Harold, with a bow and smile, “I sincerely hope you will all keep well for your own sakes more than mine.” “You may be sure we will all do our best in that line, Harold, and even more for our own sakes than for yours,” laughed his sister, Violet. “I hope so,” he returned. “Having persuaded you all to take the trip I am extremely desirous that it may prove beneficial.” They had been talking during a pause in the movement of the train, and now, as it started on again, they relapsed into [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] silence. CHAPTER II They arrived at Coronado Beach, tired with their journey but full of delight with the beauty of their surroundings. On the morning after their arrival they were gathered upon one of the galleries, taking a very interested view of the strange and beautiful scenery spread out before them. The near prospect was of lovely grounds forming the inner court of the hotel, grass, trees and hedges of lovely green, borders and ovals and beds of marguerites, long lines and curves of marigolds, and a fountain encircled by calla-lilies. It was beautiful. And farther away they could see other lovely gardens, rocky wastes, lofty mountains, and the ocean with distant sails upon it; the beach with foaming waves breaking on it, and Point Loma, grandly guarding the harbor on the right. “There must be a grand view from the top of that promontory,” remarked Chester. “Yes,” said the captain, “and perhaps a call there would be as good a beginning of our peregrinations as we could make. Point Loma commands one of the most remarkable views in the world; an immense prospect and very interesting in its details. I suppose you would all like to go?” he added inquiringly, and with a kindly glance from one to another. No one seemed at all inclined to reject the offered treat, carriages were ordered, and in a few minutes they were on their way. There was no disappointment; the view from the top of the rocky promontory, Point Loma, was all they had been led to expect; a view of miles of old ocean, blue and sparkling in the sunshine, bearing distant vessels on its bosom; on the land ranges on ranges of mountains; away in the distance to the South another promontory—the Point of Rocks, in Mexico. They drove along the narrow ridge of the promontory to the lighthouse, and found the view very fine from there. “How beautiful is that wide, curving coast line!” remarked Grandma Elsie. “Yes, mamma,” assented Violet, “and the ranges on ranges of hills and mountains. And there, see, are snow-peaks beyond them. What mountains are they, my dear?” “San Bernardino and San Jacinto,” replied the captain; “and that flat-topped one is Table Mountain, in Mexico.” “’Tis a grand view, this!” remarked Mr. Lilburn, in tones of delight. “Yes, one of the finest in the world,” responded the captain. “What a perfect crescent is that ocean beach, and how singular is the formation of North and South Coronado Beach! Notice the entrance to this harbor here along Point Loma, where we are standing, and on the spacious inner bay, the towns of San Diego, and National City; notice the lowlands and heights outside sprinkled with houses, gardens, vineyards and orchards.” “It is a beautiful scene,” said Mrs. Rose Dinsmore; “it alone is enough to repay us for our long journey.” “Yes, grandma,” responded Violet, “especially as the journey itself was really delightful.” “So it was,” responded several voices. “Yes, I think it paid even for giving up my Tiny for a few weeks,” said little Elsie. “Are we going anywhere else to- day, papa?” she asked, turning to her father. “That is a question I have not considered yet,” he answered, “but I think that by the time we get back to our hotel and eat our dinner, it will be rather late for another trip.” “I think so; especially for those of our party who are my patients,” said Dr. Travilla. “For a time I must ask them to avoid both the evening and the early morning air.” “And such is their confidence in your medical wisdom and skill that they will be very apt to take your advice,” remarked Lucilla, with playful look and tone. “Certainly we will,” added Chester; “where would be the use of bringing a doctor along if his advice is not to be followed?” “I’m very hungry,” put in little Ned. “Uncle Harold, wouldn’t it be good for us to have something to eat?” “Why yes, Ned, I highly approve of that suggestion,” laughed the doctor, “and there are lunch baskets in our carriages that will no doubt yield all that is needed to satisfy our appetites.” “Yes, I saw them, Uncle Harold, and so I knew we didn’t need to go hungry,” replied Ned. Then, turning to his father, “May I go and get the baskets, papa?” he asked. “I s’pose we’ll have to eat out here.” “No doubt we can eat comfortably enough sitting here on the rocks,” replied his father; “but the baskets are too [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] heavy for a boy of your size to carry. We will get one of our drivers to do that.” Then addressing the party, “Judging by my own feelings, ladies and gentlemen, I suppose you are all ready for lunch?” There was a general assent, and presently they were regaling themselves with a very appetizing meal. That concluded, they re-entered their carriages and had a delightful drive back to the Hotel del Coronado, where they passed a pleasant evening, then retired early for a comfortable night’s rest. The next day was the Sabbath. Our party attended morning service in the nearest church, and in the afternoon spent an hour or more in Bible study together. After that little Elsie, Bible in hand, drew near Mrs. Travilla. “Grandma,” she said, “I want to ask you about this verse in Revelations. Shall I read it to you?” “Yes, dear; let me hear it,” replied Grandma Elsie, and the child read in low, sweet tones: “‘He that hath an ear, let him hear what the Spirit saith unto the churches: To him that overcometh will I give to eat of the hidden manna, and will give him a white stone, and in the stone a new name written, which no man knoweth saving he that receiveth it.’” The little girl paused, closed her Bible, and putting her hand in her pocket drew out a small white stone. “See, grandma,” she said, “I picked this up yesterday when we were out and it reminded me of that verse. Please, grandma, tell me what it means.” “I will do the best I can, darling,” was the sweet-toned reply. “The white stone was the symbol of acquittal. When a man had been accused or suspected of some crime, tried for it and found innocent, the judge would give him a white stone, and he could show that as proof that he had been pronounced innocent. The white stone was also the symbol of victory and honor, and was given to brave soldiers coming home from battles for their country.” “Then they would be very proud to show it, I suppose,” said Elsie. “But was that all the use they had for such stones, grandma?” “No; they were used as a symbol of friendship. A single stone would be cut in two, one man would take one half, his friend the other, each would write his name on the piece he held, then they would exchange them, each keeping his piece with his friend’s name upon it, as proof and pledge of that friend’s love. They might be so separated afterwards as not to see or hear from each other for years, and perhaps, if they met again, not be able to recognize each other, because of changed appearances, but the stone would help them to prove their identity and give them the joy of renewed friendship. And when they died their sons would inherit those valuable stones, which would serve as helpers in keeping up the friendship of their fathers.” Elsie sat for a moment in thoughtful silence, then turning to her grandma, with a sweet smile: “That was a nice lesson,” she said. “Thank you very much for it, grandma.” “What was that, daughter?” asked the captain, approaching them at that moment. In reply Elsie showed her stone and repeated what her grandma had been telling her. “That was a very good lesson,” said her father. “Keep the little white stone, daughter, and when you look at it remember the Master’s promise given with it—look to Him for strength to overcome, and you will not fail. He says to each one of His children: ‘Fear thou not; for I am with thee; be not dismayed, for I am thy God; I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness.’ Again and again in that same chapter He repeats His gracious admonition to His people not to fear, because they are His—He is their God and will help them.” “Oh, it is lovely, papa, lovely to belong to Him and know that He will bring us safely all the way through this world to the home with Him that He has prepared for us above!” exclaimed the little girl in joyous tones, her eyes shining with happiness. At the moment Violet came in from the gallery, whither all the rest of the party had already gone. “Come, mamma dear,” she said, “we want your company, and have a comfortable chair placed ready for you. Plenty of room and a warm welcome, Levis, for you and our little daughter, also,” she added, turning her sweet, smiling face toward her husband. All three promptly accepted her invitation, and found it very delightful to gaze upon the beautiful grounds just below them, and the sparkling, restless ocean beyond, also to inhale the delightful sea breeze—all in the pleasant company of those whose conversation was both interesting and instructive. The summons to the tea table presently called them away from that pleasant spot, but they returned to it until the approach of bedtime; then with cordial and kindly good-nights they separated. But Lucilla came back presently to find her father pacing the gallery to and fro as was his wont at home. Pausing in his walk, he welcomed her with a smile, put an arm about her and gave her a kiss that seemed to say she was very dear to him. [18] [19] [20] [21] [22] “Father,” she said, “you were so kind to bring us all here to this lovely place.” “Kind to myself as well as to others,” he said with a smile; “I am very glad, daughter, to know that you are enjoying it.” “I am, father dear, more than I can find words to express, as is Chester, also; and I think the change is improving his health.” “Yes, I think so, and hope he will go home entirely recovered. Ah, who is this?” as another girlish figure came gliding toward them. “Another of your daughters, father,” answered a sweet-toned voice; “I didn’t know you had a companion—though I might have guessed it—and I wanted a bit of chat about your absent son. Isn’t it time for letters?” “Hardly, Eva, my dear, though possibly we may hear to-morrow or next day,” replied the captain, putting an arm about her and drawing her close to his side. “I wish Max could get a furlough and join us here,” said Lucilla. “I feel almost mean, Eva, to be enjoying the society of my husband while yours is so far away.” “Oh, Lu, dear, don’t feel so,” returned Evelyn; “your happiness certainly does not make mine any less; no, it makes it more; because, loving you, I rejoice in your happiness.” They chatted but a few moments longer, then bidding the captain good-night, hastened away to their own rooms. CHAPTER III Dr. Travilla, coming out the next morning upon that part of the gallery where their party had spent the previous evening, found Mr. Lilburn and the captain pacing to and fro, chatting and laughing as if enjoying their promenade. “You see we are ahead of you, Harold,” said the captain, when morning greetings had been exchanged. “Yes; very much?” asked Harold. “Enough for a stroll around this great building to note its size and architectural features. ’Tis an immense pile and well arranged for comfort and convenience.” “And in a delightful situation,” supplemented Mr. Lilburn. “I agree with you both and am entirely willing to spend some days or weeks in it if you wish,” returned Harold; “provided the situation agrees with my patients, as I hope and expect it will,” he added. Just then Lucilla, Evelyn and Grace added themselves to the little group, and pleasant morning greetings were exchanged, the captain bestowing a fatherly caress upon each daughter—Evelyn being as affectionately greeted as either of the other two. A few moments later they were joined by the rest of their party, and all descended together to the dining-room to partake of an excellent breakfast. Soon after leaving the table they were out for the day’s sight-seeing and adventures. They visited parks, gardens, a museum, an ostrich farm, and a number of other attractive places, then took a fine drive along the beach, returning in time for the evening meal at their pleasant house of entertainment. So delightful did they find Hotel del Coronado that they lingered there for a week. Then they left it for San Diego, which they found wonderfully beautiful, with one of the finest harbors in the world. It was delightful to sit and gaze upon the blue, sunlit bay, and breathe the delicious sea breeze. Then there were most enjoyable drives to be taken, visiting various attractive spots within a few miles’ distance. One day they drove to Lakeside, twenty-two miles away, where they ate a good dinner at the hotel, then wandered across the mesa in its rear, and had a lovely view of its little lake. Another day they drove into the Monte, a large park of a thousand acres. There were great trees—elders, willows, sycamores and live-oaks with enormous trunks, with plenty of flowers underneath them and upon the rocks, wild peonies, with variegated leaves, wild galiardia, tiny starry white flowers, pretty forget-me-nots, and others too numerous to mention. Many kinds of beautiful ferns, also. There seemed to be a different drive for every day in the week, all beautiful and enjoyable. So a week passed most pleasantly, then they took the Surf line from San Diego to Los Angeles. It was a seventy-mile ride, but with so much that was interesting to see and gaze upon, and such delicious air to breathe, that it did not seem a long or wearisome trip. There was the great ocean, with its curling, sparkling waves, and seals and porpoises frolicking in the water, gulls circling above them, and from the ground flocks of birds starting up in affright at the approach of the train. Then when [23] [24] [25] [26] [27] [28] the train carried them away from the view of the ocean there were the wonderful groves of great trees, carpets of wild flowers, and the towns of Santa Ana and Anaheim. “What is the name of the place we are going to, papa?” asked Ned, as they drew near the end of their short journey. “’Nuestra Señora la Reina de los Angeles,” replied the captain, gravely enough but with a gleam of fun in his eye. “What a long name!” cried Ned. “I should think they would have to make it shorter sometimes when they’re in a hurry.” “Yes, sometimes it is called ‘The City of the Angels,’ but even that is too long; so it commonly goes by name of Los Angeles.” “Oh, that’s better,” said Ned; “just a long enough name, I think.” They found Los Angeles a handsome city, environed by gardens filled with beautiful flowers. They spent a few days there, then went on to Pasadena, nine miles from Los Angeles, hearing that it was eight hundred feet higher and the air much drier; information which drew from Dr. Harold the opinion that it would be much more beneficial for his invalids. They found it a very Eden-like place, situated in the beautiful San Gabriel Valley, and at the foot of the Sierra Madre range of mountains. “Pasadena, ‘the Crown of the Valley,’” murmured Grandma Elsie delightedly, from the carriage window, as they drove to their hotel. “It looks a veritable paradise,” said Violet; “it reminds me of a description of Pasadena I heard given by a lady at the Hotel del Coronado. She said one would find plenty of flowers in bloom, but at the same time you would need to wear flannels and sealskin sacks; there would be snow-capped mountains and orange blossoms; the trees are green all the year and you go outdoors in December to get warm; where rats build in the trees and squirrels live in the ground with owls.” “And where the boys climb up hill on burros and slide down hills on wheels,” laughed Grace. “I hope we shall see some of those funny things and doings.” “I hope we shall,” said Lucilla, “and I particularly want to see the hedges of calla-lilies, geraniums and heliotrope.” “Well, I think we are likely to stay long enough for you all to see whatever there is to be seen,” said the captain. “Yes, I am glad we don’t have to hurry away,” remarked Grace in a blithe and cheery tone. “As we all are, I think,” said Grandma Elsie. “I don’t know who could fail to desire to stay awhile in so lovely a place as this.” “And we will have nothing to call us away until we are all ready to go,” said Captain Raymond. But their arrival at their house of entertainment now brought the conversation to a close. They found Pasadena so charming that they lingered there week after week. The town was beautiful, protected on three sides by mountain ranges and surrounded by groves and gardens, trees and hedges. There were roses clambering to the tops of houses and covered by tens of thousands of blossoms, and there were passion vines completely covering the arbors. There were hedges made of the honeysuckle, the pomegranite and the heliotrope. Marengo Avenue they found lined on both sides by the beautiful pepper tree. There is a fine hotel called The Raymond, but it was closed at this time; so that our friends, though attracted by the name, could see only the grounds and the outside of the buildings. It is set upon a hill commanding a fine view, and in the winter season is filled to overflowing, but it is always closed in April. They found the hill on which it stands an excellent point of view of the country, and itself a mountain of bloom, color and fragrance; and it was evident that the views from the windows and broad verandas—views of orchards, gardens, pretty villas, purple foothills and snowy ranges, must be fine indeed. “What a beautiful place it is,” exclaimed little Elsie when they had gone about the house, viewing it and grounds from side to side. “I wish it was open so we could stay here. Papa, it has our name; are the folks who own it related to us?” “I don’t know, daughter, but I hardly think so; it is not an uncommon name,” replied the captain. “It’s a good name; I don’t want any better,” said Ned sturdily. “I’m glad you are satisfied, and I hope you will never do anything to disgrace it,” said his father, with a gratified smile and an affectionate pat of the small hand which happened to be held in his at the moment. Our party found a great deal to interest them in and about Pasadena. There were the fine hotels, the pleasant boarding houses, the Public Library in the town, and three miles away the old mission of San Gabriel. They made various trips in the vicinity of the town—to Mt. San Antonio, ten miles away, but none too far for a little trip, they [29] [30] [31] [32] [33] thought; also to Mt. San Jacinto, whose height is twelve thousand feet above the Pacific. Our friends found Pasadena so delightful that they lingered there for some weeks. Then they passed on in a southerly direction till they reached the lovely city of Santa Barbara, where they lingered still longer, finding the place itself wonderfully attractive and the many drives in the vicinity delightful. They found that there were as many as twenty-eight distinct and beautiful drives, and almost every day they tried one or more of them. They greatly enjoyed the scenery— the mountains, the valleys, the beautiful villas, with their trees, shrubs, vines and flowers, one grape-vine in especial with a trunk eight inches in diameter, with foliage covering ten thousand square feet, and which they were told yielded in one year twelve thousand pounds of grapes. Another drive took them to the lighthouse, where from the balcony there was a fine view of the fields below, the blue sea beyond them, and the blue sky overhead. There was hardly anything which the ladies of our party and little Elsie enjoyed more than the sight of the vast profusion of roses—hundreds of varieties and vines covering many feet of arbor or veranda. Santa Barbara proved a place hard to leave, and they lingered there for a number of weeks, all of them—especially those who had been on the invalid list-feeling that they were constantly gaining in health and strength. News from their homes was favorable to their stay; everything seemed to be going on very well without them; so they yielded to the fascinations of this Western fairy land and lingered weeks longer than they had intended when they came. The summer was nearly over; they began to think it time to be on the move toward home, and after a little talk on the subject decided to start the next day, go on to San Francisco, tarry there a few days, then travel eastward to their homes. Evelyn was the most eager for the start; it seemed so long since she had last seen her young husband, and they were hoping he might get a furlough and spend some weeks with her at Crag Cottage, their pretty home on the Hudson. They tarried in San Francisco long enough to acquaint themselves with all its beauties, then wended their way eastward as fast as the cars could carry them. They felt it still too early in the season for an immediate return to their southern homes, but they scattered to various places in the north-some to visit relatives, some to the seaside, while several accepted an invitation from Evelyn to spend some weeks at Crag Cottage. She knew that her aunt, Elsie Leland, was already there, and had everything in order for their reception. Grandma Elsie, Dr. Harold Travilla, Grace Raymond and her sister, Lucilla, were the others who accepted the invitation. But Captain Raymond, Violet and their two younger children expected to visit for some weeks one of Long Island’s seaside resorts. Max had written to Evelyn that he hoped for a furlough that would enable him to join her at their cottage and spend with her the few weeks she would care to stay there; and she was looking forward to that reunion with eager delight, while journeying from far-off California to the home of her childhood. “Father and Mamma Vi,” she said to them as they journeyed through the State of New York, “stop with me at Crag Cottage and make at least a little visit there. I think you will see Max if you do. I have a feeling that he will be there to meet us on our arrival.” “Thank you, daughter,” returned Captain Raymond, with a look of pleasure, “I shall be happy to accept your invitation if it suits my wife to do so. What do you say, Violet, my dear?” “That I accept gladly! I shall be pleased to see both Max and the pretty cottage; as well as to be Eva’s guest for a few days.” “And what will Elsie and I do?” asked Ned, with a roguish look. “Go on to the seashore by ourselves?” “No, little brother, we wouldn’t any of us be willing to trust you to do that,” laughed Evelyn, “and large as you are, I think the cottage can be made to hold you two in addition to the others.” “Oh, good! I’m glad of that, for I always enjoy a visit to Crag Cottage,” cried Ned, clapping his hands in glee. “And I hope you will be often there visiting your brother and sister,” said Evelyn, smiling affectionately and patting the hand he had laid upon the arm of her seat. Her invitation was not extended to other members of the party, as their plans were already made. Mr. and Mrs. Lilburn had already left them to visit their relatives at Pleasant Plains, and Mr. and Mrs. Horace Dinsmore had announced their intention of visiting theirs in the neighborhood of Philadelphia. “We will reach New York presently,” remarked the captain, after a little, “and there we will leave the train and go aboard the Dolphin, if, as I have every reason to expect, she is lying at the dock there; and we can all journey up to Crag Cottage in her.” “Which will be a pleasant change from travelling on land in a car,” remarked Lucilla. “You will go with us, will you not, Chester?” asked Evelyn. “Thank you,” he returned heartily; “I must leave my wife with you and hurry on home to attend to some professional matters that I have neglected too long in my desire to fully recover my health.” [34] [35] [36] [37] [38] “Be careful that you don’t lose it again,” said Dr. Travilla, warningly. “Oh, yes, for your wife’s sake be careful,” urged Lucilla, a look of anxiety on her usually bright, happy face. “You may trust me for that, I think,” Chester returned laughingly. A few hours later they reached New York, and as they left the train Evelyn was overjoyed to find herself in her husband’s arms. His furlough had been granted. He had already been aboard the Dolphin and was able to assure them that everything there and at Crag Cottage was in order for their reception. They had already bade good-by to Mr. and Mrs. Horace Dinsmore, who were going on at once to Philadelphia, Chester with them as far as that city, so the party for the Dolphin went aboard of her without any unnecessary delay, and immediately journeyed in her up to their desired haven. It was a short voyage, made doubly pleasant by the happy reunion of near and dear ones, for it was a great joy to Max to have his wife again by his side, and father, young stepmother, sisters and brother close at hand; all showing delight in the reunion and great affection for him. The presence of Grandma Elsie and her son, the good and lovable physician, was no drawback upon the felicity of any one of them. And a most joyous and affectionate greeting awaited them all on reaching their destination, Mr. and Mrs. Leland and their sons and daughters evidently delighted at their arrival; a natural consequence of the many ties of kinship existing among them. Mrs. Leland had done her part well; she had capable servants under her, the house was in beautiful order, and the table well served. Several days passed most delightfully, mostly on shore, though some little trips were taken in the yacht. Then the Raymonds began to talk of leaving, but were urged to stay on a little longer. CHAPTER IV It was early morning, the sun just peeping over the mountain tops on the farther side of the river, when Captain Raymond might have been seen pacing to and fro in the beautiful grounds of Crag Cottage. Now and then he glanced toward the open hall door, expecting that Lucilla would join him in his early stroll as she so often did. Presently some one did step out and hasten toward him. It was not Lucilla, however, but Dr. Harold Travilla. “Good-morning, Grandpa Raymond,” was Harold’s greeting, with a bow and smile. “What?” cried the captain, standing still in surprise. “A pretty little girl has just arrived, scarcely an hour ago, and as Max claims to be her father, I take it that Max’s father must be her grandsire.” “Ah! An astonishing bit of news! She was not expected so soon?” “No, not for some weeks yet, but the parents are very happy over her prompt arrival. So far both mother and child are doing well.” “That is good news; all you have told me is good news, although it seems a little odd to think of myself as a grandfather,” remarked the captain with a smile. Then turning to Lucilla, who joined them at that moment, he told the news to her. “Oh,” she cried, “how nice! Harold, can I go in now, speak to Eva and look at her treasure?” “Not yet,” he said; “she needs rest and I think is sleeping. We will let you in some hours later.” “Thank you. I don’t want to go to her until her physician considers it quite safe to do so,” returned Lucilla. “Nor do I,” said the captain, “though I shall be pleased to get sight of my first grandchild.” “Oh, yes, she has made you a grandfather, papa,” laughed Lucilla. “How odd that seems!” “And you, Grace and Elsie, aunts; Ned—my little Ned—an uncle.” “Oh, won’t he be tickled!” laughed Lucilla. “We will see,” laughed the captain, “for here he comes,” as Ned was seen at that moment approaching them in their walk. “Good-morning, papa and Sister Lu,” he cried, as he drew near. “Good-morning, Uncle Harold.” “Good-morning,” returned his father. “Have you heard the news?” “News, papa? No, sir; what is it?” he asked, putting his hand into that of his father. “Nothing bad, I guess, ’cause you look pleased; and so do sister and uncle.” [39] [40] [41] [42] [43] “I hope you, too, will be pleased when you hear it,” said his father. “You have a little niece, Ned. You are an uncle.” “Oh, am I? Why how did it happen? Where is she?” “Only a little baby,” laughed Lucilla. “Brother Max and Sister Eva are her father and mother.” “And God gave her to them a little while ago,” added their father. “And I want you to remember to make no noise anywhere about the house, because your Sister Eva is not well and noise would be very apt to make her worse.” “Yes, sir, I think I can remember to be quiet so as not to hurt Sister Eva or wake the baby if it is asleep. I’d like to see it, though.” “I think we will all be treated to a sight of it before very long,” said the captain. “Oh,” cried Ned, “there are mamma and Elsie on the porch. Let’s go and tell them the good news.” And away he ran, followed by his father and Sister Lu. “Oh, mamma, have you heard the news?” he cried, as he came panting up the steps. “That I am a grandmother and you an uncle?” she asked, with a merry little laugh. “Why, no, mamma, you are not old enough to be that,” exclaimed Elsie. “No, indeed!” cried Ned. “But papa is a grandfather and Lu and Grace and Elsie are aunts and I’m an uncle. Oh, isn’t it funny?” “I hope you will be a well-behaved uncle and not make your little niece ashamed of you,” laughed Violet. “I guess she won’t be,” returned Ned. “Anyhow, not till she gets bigger. She’s just a baby now, papa says.” Captain Raymond and Lucilla were now coming up the porch steps and at the same moment Max stepped out from the hall door. He was looking very happy. “Good-morning, father,” he said. “Good-morning, Mamma Vi, and all of you. Father, I suppose Harold has told you the news?” “Yes, my dear boy; very pleasant news, though it seems to add something to my age to know myself a grandfather,” returned the captain with a smile, and taking Max’s extended hand in a warm pressure. “What did you choose a girl for, Brother Max?” asked Ned. “I should think you’d rather have a boy.” “No, little brother,” laughed Max. “I’m glad it is a girl, and always shall be glad, if she grows up to be just like her mother, as I hope she will.” “I hope so too, Max, and I am well pleased that she is a girl,” said Lucilla, “but I am glad that father and mother had a boy first so that I have always had an older brother to look up to.” “And you have really looked up to him?” laughed Max. “I haven’t always known it, and certainly have not always been worthy of it.” Just then they were joined by Grandma Elsie and her daughter, Mrs. Leland, with her husband and children. All had heard the news and were full of the subject. The ladies and children wanted to see the little newcomer, but that could not be for the present without running the risk of disturbing its mother, and just then came the summons to the breakfast table. Dr. Harold was with them there, and on being questioned spoke in a cheerful, hopeful way of his patient. “I left her asleep,” he said, “and looking very peaceful and comfortable, the bit lassie reposing by her side. The nurse seems a capable one and I think will take the best care of both mother and babe.” “When can we see it, Uncle Harold?” asked little Elsie. “After its mother wakes yours or mine will probably carry it out into the dressing-room for a few minutes, and then if you two will engage to be very quiet you may go in there and take a peep at the little nameless stranger,” replied the doctor. “Nameless!” exclaimed Elsie. “Oh, Brother Max, what are you going to name it?” “Its mother shall name it. I am sure she has the best right,” replied Max. “So I think,” said his father. “Violet, my dear, how soon will you be ready for our trip down the river?” “I think I can make ready in an hour or two at any time,” Violet answered with a smile. “Oh, father, don’t think of leaving us!” exclaimed Max. “I am absolutely hungry for a good visit with you; and you [44] [45] [46] [47] [48] have had sea air for months past. Besides, there is plenty of room here, and of everything else that is wanted. I hope you will all stay until Eva and I are ready to go.” “Thank you, my son,” the captain said, giving Max a look of fatherly pride and pleasure; “a few weeks of your society will be far from disagreeable to your old father. So, Violet,” turning to her, “shall we accept his invitation?” “Yes, with the understanding that if at any time we prove troublesome company we are to be informed that such is the case and to leave at very short notice.” “You may be sure of getting such notice if your conduct calls for it,” laughed Mrs. Leland. “So don’t set your hearts too strongly upon staying here as long as Max and Eva do.” “There is not the slightest danger of Sister Violet earning such notice and hardly of her children doing so,” remarked Mr. Leland, “but I am not so sure of our own boys and girls. Remember, my children,” glancing around upon them, “that you are to play very quietly when you are in or near the house while Cousin Eva is sick.” In answer there was a chorus of assurances that they would be very careful to do nothing to injure “dear Cousin Eva,” but everything they could to help her to get well. An hour later they were all—including Elsie and Ned—invited to go quietly into Cousin Eva’s dressing-room and see her new treasure, which they found sleeping on Grandma Elsie’s lap. They all regarded it with great interest and pronounced it a dear, pretty little thing. “What is its name, grandma?” they asked. “I don’t think she has any yet, except that she is a little Miss Raymond,” Grandma Elsie answered, with a smile and a loving look down into the wee face. “Oh, yes, because Brother Max is her father and his name is Raymond,” said little Elsie, “and Sisters Lu and Grace and I are her aunts. Oh, I think it’s nice to have such a dear little niece!” “Or cousin,” said Eric Leland. “I can’t be her uncle, but she’s my cousin, because her mother is.” “Yes,” said Grandma Elsie, “so she is, and I hope you will be so kind to her that she cannot help loving you. Now you may all go out into the grounds and enjoy yourselves there; far enough from the house not to disturb your sick cousin if you want to make any noise.” “I think we will all try to be quiet, grandma,” said Elsie, “and go far enough away not to disturb Sister Eva with our talk.” And with that they all passed out very quietly. Elsie led the way to the summer house on the edge of the cliff, which had always been one of Evelyn’s favorite resorts. There they seated themselves, enjoying the beautiful prospect of the river and its farther shore. “That baby is a dear, pretty little cousin for us all, isn’t she?” remarked Alie Leland. “To you and your sister and brothers,” Elsie answered, with merry look and tone; “but niece to Ned and me, you must remember, because her father is our brother.” “Well, I don’t care,” laughed Alie. “I believe it’s about as good to be cousin as aunt.” CHAPTER V Evelyn awoke from a long, quiet sleep to find her husband sitting by her side and gazing upon her as if he thought her the greatest of earthly treasures. “Dear Max,” she said, smiling up in his eyes, “it is so sweet to have you so close—keeping guard over me as if I were the dearest of earthly possessions.” “That is just what you are, love,” he returned, leaning over her and kissing lip and cheek and brow. “And this little darling comes next,” he added, looking down at the sleeping babe by her side. “Ah, she is a treasure, oh, such a treasure to me—but I am sorry for your sake that she is only a girl.” “Only a girl!” he exclaimed. “I am glad she is that. I would not have her anything else; and I hope she will prove a second edition of her mother.” “Thank you, my dear,” Eva said with a smile. “But she must have a name, and what shall it be?” “Whatever pleases her mother,” replied Max, returning the smile. “No, I think the decision should rest with her father,” Eva said, with her low, sweet laugh. [49] [50] [51] [52] [53] “Shall we call her Elsie for your good, kind aunt?” returned Max. “I should like to give that token of affection to both her and her mother,” said Evelyn, “were it not that there are already so many Elsies in the connection. How would Mary do? Perhaps shortening it to Maie.” “Quite well, I think,” said Max. “So let us call her our little Maie.” “Little treasure!” murmured Evelyn, gazing upon the baby face. “Oh, Max, I feel it very sweet to be a mother—to have a little darling of my very own.” “And I find it far from unpleasant to be a father,” he returned gaily, “the only drawback upon my felicity being the hard fact that I must leave my two dearest ones so often for my life upon the sea.” “Ah,” she sighed, “I must try not to think of that now. It is a hard thought, though I am proud of my husband’s readiness to serve his country.” “A country well worth serving, I think,” smiled Max; “the grandest one in the world.” Doctor and nurse both came in at that moment. “In which opinion I heartily agree with you,” said Harold, having overheard Max’s last sentence. “But remember, my good naval officer, that you must not talk in too exciting a way to my patient.” “Oh, I am not at all excited, but if you abuse my husband I shall be,” said Evelyn, with mirthful look and tone. “Oh, I am not abusing him or intending to,” said Harold, “but my patient’s welfare must always receive my first consideration.” “Pleasant doctrine for me while I am the patient,” laughed Evelyn. Harold was looking at the sleeping babe. “She’s a pretty bit lassie for one of her age,” he said, “and I hope one of these days to claim her as my niece.” “So you may; I think you will suit very well for an uncle,” laughed Max; “an uncle for my child since you have ceased to be one for myself.” “Yes, I prefer to be your b...