"Tell her to come in," he said; "we are going to have prayers." Lulu obeyed the summons, but took a seat near the door, without so much as glancing toward her father.
When the short service was over Grace seated herself upon his knee, and Max stood close beside him, both laughing and talking right merrily; but Lulu sat where she was, gazing in moody silence into the street.
At length, in a pause in the talk, the captain said, in a kindly tone, "One of my little girls seems to have forgotten to bid me good-morning." "Good-morning, papa," muttered Lulu, sullenly, her face still averted.
"Good-morning, Lucilla," he said; and she knew by his tone and use of her full name that he was by no means pleased with her behavior.
At that moment they were summoned to breakfast.
Lulu took her place with the others and ate in silence, scarce lifting her eyes from her plate, while everybody else was full of cheerful chat.
A carriage was at the door when they left the table.
"Make haste, children," the captain said, "so that we may have time for a long drive before the bathing hour." Max and Grace moved promptly to obey, but Lulu stood still.
"I spoke to you, Lulu, as well as to the others," her father said, in his usual kindly tone; "you may go with us, if you wish." "I don't care to, papa," she answered, turning away.
"Very well, I shall not compel you; you may do just as you please about it," he returned.

"Stay at home if you prefer it.

You may go down to the beach if you choose, but nowhere else." "Yes, sir," she muttered, and walked out of the room, wondering in a half-frightened way if he knew or suspected where she had been the day before.
In fact, he did neither; he believed Lulu a more obedient child than she was, and had no idea that she had not done exactly as he bade her.
This time she was so far obedient that she went nowhere except to the beach, but while wandering about there she was nursing unkind and rebellious thoughts and feelings; trying hard to convince herself that her father loved her less than he did his other children, and was more inclined to be severe with her than with them.

In her heart of hearts she believed no such thing, but pretending to herself that she did, she continued her unlovely behavior all that day and the next, sulking alone most of the time; doing whatever she was bidden, but with a sullen air, seldom speaking unless she was spoken to, never hanging lovingly about her father, as had been her wont, but rather seeming to avoid being near him whenever she could.
It pained him deeply to see her indulging so evil a temper, but he thought best to appear not to notice it.

He did not offer her the caresses she evidently tried to avoid, and seldom addressed her; but when he did speak to her it was in his accustomed kind, fatherly tones, and it was her own fault if she did not share in every pleasure provided for the others.
In the afternoon of the second day they were all gathered upon the beach as usual, when a young girl, who seemed to be a new-comer in 'Sconset, drew near and accosted Betty as an old acquaintance.
"Why, Anna Eastman, who would have expected to see you here ?" cried Betty, in accents of pleased surprise, springing up to embrace the stranger.
Then she introduced her to Elsie, Violet, and Captain Raymond, who happened to be sitting near, as an old school friend.
"And you didn't know I was on the island ?" remarked Miss Eastman laughingly to Betty, when the introductions were over.
"I hadn't the least idea of it.