I shall be ready in a very few moments." Betty thanked him and said they would wait.
While they did so she tried to jest and laugh with Lulu; but the little girl was in no mood for such things; she felt sick and dizzy at the thought of the danger she had escaped but a moment ago.

She made no reply to Betty's remarks, and indeed seemed scarcely to hear them.
She was quite silent, too, while being helped down the stairs by the kind stranger, but thanked him prettily as they separated.
"You are heartily welcome," he said; "but if you will take my advice you will never go needlessly into such danger again." With that he shook hands with her, bowed to Betty, and moved away.
"Will you go in and rest awhile, Lu ?" asked Betty.
"No, thank you; I'm not tired; and I'd rather be close by the sea.

Tell me another of your stories, won't you?
to help me forget how near I came to falling." Betty good-naturedly complied, but found Lulu a less interested listener than before.
The "squantum" party were late in returning, and when they arrived Betty and Lulu were in bed; but the door between the room where Lulu lay and the parlor, or sitting-room, as it was indifferently called, was ajar, and she could hear all that was said there.
"Where is Lulu ?" her father asked of the maid-servant who had been left behind.
"Gone to bed, sir," was the answer.
Then the captain stepped to the chamber door, pushed it wider open, and came to the bedside.
Lulu pretended to be asleep, keeping her eyes tight shut, but all the time feeling that he was standing there and looking down at her.
He sighed slightly, turned away, and went from the room; then she buried her face in the pillows and cried softly but quite bitterly.
"He might have kissed me," she said to herself; "he would if he loved me as much as he used to before he got married." Then his sigh seemed to echo in her heart, and she grew remorseful over the thought that her misconduct had grieved as well as displeased him.
And how much more grieved and displeased he would be if he knew how she had disregarded his wishes and commands during his absence that day! And soon he would be ordered away again, perhaps to the other side of the world; in danger from the treacherous deep and maybe from savages, too, in some of those far-away places where his vessel would touch; and so the separation might be for years or forever in this world; and if she continued to be the bad girl she could not help acknowledging to herself she now was, how dared she hope to be with her Christian father in another life?
She had no doubt that he was a Christian; it was evident from his daily walk and conversation; and she was equally certain that she herself was not.
And what a kind, affectionate father he had always been to her; she grew more and more remorseful as she thought of it; and if he had been beside her at that moment would certainly have confessed all the wrong-doing of the day and asked forgiveness.
But he was probably in bed now; all was darkness and silence in the house; so she lay still, and presently forgot all vexing thought in sound, refreshing sleep.
When she awoke again the morning sun was shining brightly, and her mood had changed.
The wrong-doings of the previous day were the merest trifles, and it would really be quite ridiculous to go and confess them to her father; she supposed, indeed was quite sure, that ha would be better pleased with her if she made some acknowledgment of sorrow for the fault for which he had punished her; but the very thought of doing so was so galling to her pride that she was stubbornly determined not to do anything of the kind.
She was thinking it all over while dressing, and trying hard to believe herself a very ill-used, instead of naughty, child.

It was a burning shame that she had been scolded and left behind for such a trifling fault; but she would let "papa" and everybody else see that she didn't care; she wouldn't ask one word about what kind of a time they had had (she hoped it hadn't been so very nice); and she would show papa, too, that she could do very well without caresses and endearments from him.
Glancing from the window, she saw him out on the bluff back of the cottage; but though her toilet was now finished, she did not, as usual, run out to put her hand in his, and with a glad good-morning hold up her face for a kiss.
She went quietly to the dooryard looking upon the village street, and peeped into the window of the room where Grace was dressing with a little help from Agnes, their mamma's maid.
"Oh, Lu, good-morning," cried the little girl.

"I was so sorry you weren't with us yesterday at the 'squantum;' we had ever such a nice time; only I missed you very much." "Your sympathy was wasted, Grace," returned Lulu, with a grand air.