“Your thankfulness can hardly equal her father’s,” the captain said with emotion almost too big for utterance, as he gently drew off the mitten, and bound up the wounded fingers with his handkerchief. “That will do till I get you to the house. Shall I carry you, daughter?”

  “Oh no, papa, I’m quite able to walk,” she answered in a very cheerful tone. “Please don’t be so troubled; I’m sure I’m not much hurt.”

  “Allow me to take off your skates for you,” Chester said, kneeling down on the ice at their feet, and beginning to undo the straps as he spoke. “And I will gladly carry you up to the house, too, if you and your father are willing.”

  “Oh thank you, sir; but I’d really rather walk with papa to help me along.”

  The accident had sobered the party a good deal, and most of them— including the older people and Lulu’s mates— went back to the house with her and her father.

  Violet was quite startled and alarmed to see the child brought in with her hand bound up; but when the blood had been washed away the wounds were found to be little more than skin deep; the bleeding soon ceased, and some court-plaster was all that was needed to cover up the cuts.

  There were plenty of offers of assistance, but the captain chose to do for her himself all that was required.

  “There, my dear child, you have had a very narrow escape,” he said when he had finished, drawing her into his arms and caressing her with great tenderness; “what a heartbreaking thing it would have been for us both had this little hand,” taking it tenderly in his, “been robbed of its fingers; far worse to me than to have lost my own.”

  “And you have saved them for me, you dear father,” she said, clinging about his neck and laying her cheek to his, her eyes full of tears, a slight tremble in her voice. “But they are yours, because I am,” she added, laughing a little hysterically. “Oh I’m every bit yours; from the crown of my head to the soles of my feet.”

  “Yes, so you are; one of my choice treasures, my darling,” he said with emotion; “and my heart is full of thankfulness to God our heavenly Father for enabling me to save you from being so sadly maimed.”

  “And I do think your Mamma Vi is almost as thankful as either of you,” Violet said, coming to his side and softly smoothing Lulu’s hair.

  They were in the dressing-room, no one else present but Grace and Max.

  “I’m pretty thankful myself,” observed the latter jocosely, but with a telltale moisture about the eyes; “I shouldn’t like to have a sister with a fingerless hand.”

  “Oh don’t, Max! don’t talk so!” sobbed Grace, “I just can’t bear to think of such dreadful things!”

  Her father turned toward her and held out his hand. She sprang to his side and he put his arm about her.

  “The danger is happily past, my pet,” he said, touching his lips to her cheek; “so dry your eyes and think of something else, something pleasanter.”

  “You’ve got enough of skating, I suppose, Lu? you won’t want to try it again, will you?” asked Max.

  “Yes; if papa will let me. I’d like to go back this afternoon. But I’d want to keep fast hold of him so that I’d be in no danger of falling,” she added, looking lovingly into his eyes.

  “I’ll not let you try it in any other way for some time to come,” he said, stroking her hair; “you must become a good deal more proficient in the use of skates before I can again trust you to go alone; especially where there are so many other and more skilful skaters.”

  “I don’t care for that, papa, but will you take me there again this afternoon?”

  “We’ll see about it when the time comes,” he said smiling at her eager tone, and not ill-pleased at this proof of a persevering disposition.

  “Oh!” cried Max, glancing toward the window, “it’s snowing fast! Dear, dear, it will spoil the skating for all of us!”

  “But a good fall of snow will provide other pleasures, my son,” remarked the captain in a cheery tone.

  “Yes, sir, so it will,” returned Max, echoing the tone.

  “And beside plenty of indoor amusements have been provided,” said Violet. “I think we can all enjoy ourselves vastly, let the weather outside be what it will.”

  “I am sure of it,” said her husband. “Gracie, how did you enjoy your ride?”

  “Oh it was just lovely, papa!” answered the little girl, “the sleigh skimmed along so nicely without a bit of jolting; and then too, it was such fun to watch the skaters.”

  A tap at the door, and Rosie’s voice asking, “How is Lulu? Mamma sent me to inquire.”

  “Come in, Rosie,” said the captain. “Mother is very kind, and I am glad to be able to report to her that Lulu is only very slightly hurt; so slightly that doubtless she will be ready to join her mates in any sport that may be going on this afternoon.”

  Rosie drew near with a look of commiseration on her face, but exclaimed in surprise, “Why, your hand isn’t even bound up!”

  “No; I have just a patch of court plaster on each of three finger tips,” returned Lulu, laughingly displaying them.

  “But oh what a narrow escape!” cried Rosie half breathlessly. “It fairly frightens me to think of it!”

  “They’d all have been cut off if it hadn’t been for papa,” Lulu said with a shudder, hiding her face on his shoulder.

  “O Lu, I’m so glad they weren’t!” said Rosie. “Eva has been crying fit to break her heart because she was sure that at least the tips of your fingers had been taken off; and in fact I couldn’t help crying myself,” she added, turning away to wipe her eyes.

  “How good in you both!” exclaimed Lulu, lifting her head and showing flushed cheeks and shining eyes. “Papa, shan’t I go and find Eva and comfort her by letting her see how little I am hurt, after all?”

  “Yes, do, my child,” he said, releasing her.

  The two little girls went from the room together, each with her arm about the other’s waist.

  “Eva’s in my room taking her cry out by herself,” said Rosie. “I’d like to go there with you, but I must carry your father’s answer to mamma first. Then I’ll join you.”

  The door of Rosie’s room stood open; Evelyn sat with her back toward it, and Lulu, entering softly, had an arm round her friend’s neck before she was aware of her presence.

  “O Lu!” cried Evelyn, with a start, “are you much hurt?”

  “No, you poor dear; you’ve been breaking your heart about almost nothing. I hurt my knees a little in falling, and Chester’s skate took a tiny slice out of my middle finger, and scratched the one each side of it, but that’s all. See, they don’t even need to be wrapped up.”

  “Oh, I’m so glad!” exclaimed Eva with a sigh of relief, and smiling through tears; then with a shudder and hugging Lulu close, “It would have been too horrible if they’d been cut off! I think skating is dangerous, and I’m not sorry the snow has come to spoil it; for us girls, I mean; the older folks and the boys can take care of themselves, I suppose.”

  “Oh I like it!” said Lulu. “I wanted papa to let me go back this afternoon and try it again, and I think he would if the snow hadn’t come.”

  “You surprise me!” exclaimed Evelyn. “If I had come so near losing my fingers, I’d never care to skate any more.”

  “I always did like boys’ sports,” remarked Lulu, laughing. “Aunt Beulah used to call me a tom-boy, and even Max would sometimes say he believed I was half boy; I was always so glad of a chance to slip off to the woods with him where I could run and jump and climb without any body by to scold me and tell me I’d tear my clothes. I don’t have to do those things without leave now, for papa lets me; he say it’s good for my health, and that that’s of far more importance than my clothes. Oh, we all do have such good times now, at home in our father’s house, with him to take care of us!”

  “Yes, I’m sure you do, and I’m so glad for you. How happy you all seem! and how brave you are about bearing pain, dear Lu! You are so bright and cheerful, though I’m sure your fingers must ache. Don’t they?”

  “Yes, some; but I don’t mind it very much and they’ll soon be well.”

  Just then they were joined by several of the other little girls, all anxious to see Lulu and learn whether she were really badly hurt.

  They crowded round her with eager questions and many expressions of sympathy first, then of delight in finding her so cheerful and suffering so little.

  The next thing was to plan indoor amusements for the afternoon and evening, as evidently the storm had put outdoor pleasures out of the question for that day.

  The call to dinner interrupted them in the midst of their talk; a not unwelcome summons, for exercise in the bracing winter air had given them keen appetites.

  Some of the younger ones, who had particularly enjoyed the skating, felt a good deal disappointed that the storm had come to put a stop to it, and were in consequence quite sober and subdued in their demeanor as they took their seats at the table.

  A moment of complete silence followed the asking of the blessing, then, as Edward took up a carving-knife, and stuck the fork into a roast duck in front of him, there was a loud “Quack, quack,” that startled everybody for an instant, followed by merry peals of laughter from old and young.

  A loud squeal came next from a young pig in a dish placed before Mr. Dinsmore, and the song of the blackbird from a pie Grandma Elsie was beginning to help.

  “‘Four and twenty blackbirds baked in a pie,’” remarked Mr. Lilburn gravely.

  “’When the pie was opened the birds began to sing, Wasn’t that a dainty dish to set before a king?’

  “Ah ha! um h’m! ah ha! history repeats itself. But, Cousin Elsie, I didna expect to be treated to a meal o’ livin’ creatures in your house.”

  “Did you not?” she returned with a smile. “Life is full of surprises.”

  “And grandpa and Ned go on carving without any apparent thought of the cruelty of cutting into living creatures,” laughed Zoe.

  “And what a singular circumstance that chickens baked in a pie should sing like blackbirds,” remarked Grandma Elsie.

  “Very indeed!” said Capt. Raymond. “I move that some one prepare an article on the subject for one of the leading magazines.”

  “No one better qualified for the task than yourself, sir,” said his brother-in-law, Mr. Lester Leland.

  “You will surely except our Cousin Ronald,” said the captain; “doubtless he knows more about the phenomenon than any other person present.”

  “O Cousin Ronald,” broke in Walter, “as we can’t go skating this afternoon, won’t you please tell us young ones some of your famous stories?”

  “Perhaps, laddie; but there may be some other amusement provided, and in that case the tales will keep. It strikes me I heard some o’ the leddies laying plans for the afternoon and evening?” he added, turning inquiringly in Zoe’s direction.

  “Yes, sir,” she said, “we are getting up some tableaux, but are ready to defer them if any one wishes to do something else.”

  “I think we will not tax Cousin Ronald with story telling to-day,” said Grandma Elsie: “he has been making a good deal of exertion in skating, and I know must feel weary.”

  “Are you, Cousin Ronald?” asked Walter.

  “Well, laddie, I can no deny that there have been times when I’ve felt a bit brighter and more in the mood for spinning out a yarn, as the sailors say.”

  “And perhaps you’d like to see the tableaux too, sir?”

  “Yes, I own that I should.”

  That settled the question. “We will have the tableaux,” Grandma Elsie said, and every body seemed well satisfied with the decision.

  Preparations were begun almost immediately on leaving the table, and pretty much all the short winter afternoon occupied with them.

  They had their exhibition after tea; a very satisfactory one to those who took part, and to the spectators.

  Every child and young person who was desirous to have it so, was brought in to one or more of the pictures. Lulu, to her great delight, appeared in several and did herself credit.

  “How are the fingers, dear child? have they been giving you much pain?” the captain asked when he came to her room for the usual good-night talk, sitting down as he spoke, drawing her to a seat upon his knee, and taking the wounded hand tenderly in his.

  “Only a twinge once in a while, papa,” she said, putting the other arm round his neck and smiling into his eyes. “It’s been a very nice day for me in spite of my accident; everybody has been so good and kind. I think they tried to give me a pleasant part in as many of the tableaux as they could to comfort me, and really after all it was only a little bit of a hurt.”

  “But narrowly escaped being a very serious one. Ah my heart is full of thankfulness to God for you, my darling, and for myself, that the injury was no greater. You might have lost your fingers or your hand; you might even have been killed by falling in such a way as to strike your head very hard upon the ice.”

  “Did anybody ever get killed in that way, papa?” she asked.

  “Yes, I have read or heard of one or two such cases, and had it happened to you I could hardly forgive myself for letting go your hand.”

  “I’m sure you might feel that it was all my own fault, papa,” she said tightening her clasp of his neck and kissing him with ardent affection; “every bit my own fault because I begged you to let me try it alone.”

  “No, that could not have excused me; because it is a father’s duty to take every care of his child, whether she wishes it or not; and it is my settled purpose to do so henceforward,” he said, returning her caress with great tenderness.

  Chapter 8

  The storm continued through the night but had ceased before the guests at Ion were astir; the ground was thickly carpeted with snow and clouds still obscured the sun, but there was no wind and the cold was not severe.

  “Just the day for a snow fight,” remarked Frank Dinsmore, as he and the other lads of the company stood grouped together on the veranda shortly after breakfast; “plenty of snow and in prime condition for making into balls.”

  “So it is,” said Herbert Travilla, “and I believe I’m boy enough yet to enjoy a scrimmage in it.”

  “I too,” said Harold. “Let’s build a fort, divide ourselves into two armies, one besiege and the other defend it.”

  The proposition was received with enthusiasm and the work of erecting the snow fort begun at once.

  Some of the girls wanted to help, but were told their part was to look on.

  “I can do more than that,” said Rosie, and darting into the house, she presently returned with a small flag. “Here, plant this on your ramparts, Harold,” she said, “if you are to defend the fort.”

  “I don’t know yet to which party I shall belong— besiegers or besieged— but I’m obliged for the flag and shall plant it as you advise,” he said.

  The girls amused themselves snowballing each other, occasionally pausing to watch the progress the lads were making, the older people doing the same from the veranda or the windows of the mansion.

  The boys were active and soon had their fort— not a large one— constructed, and the flag planted and waving in a slight wind that had sprung up.

  Lulu standing on the veranda steps, clapped her hands in delight as it was flung to the breeze and started “That Star Spangled Banner,” all the others joining in and singing with a will.

  Then the lads divided themselves into two companies, Harold taking command of the defenders of the fort, Chester of the attacking party.

  “There are not enough of you fellows,” called Sydney; “you’d better let us girls help prepare the ammunition. Women have done such things when men were scarce.”

  “So they have,” replied Chester. “I’ll accept such assistance from you while you stand back out of danger.”

  “Then we girls will have to divide into two companies,” said Rosie; “for the boys in the fort must have the same kind of help the others do. I’ll go to them.”

  “No, no,” said Harold, “this is going to be too much of a rough and tumble play for girls. I decline with thanks.”

  “Ungrateful fellow!” she retorted. “I don’t mean to be a bit sorry for you if you are defeated.”

  “I do not intend that you shall have the opportunity,” he returned with a good humored laugh.

  “O Rosie, I know what we can do!” cried Lulu; “give them some music.”

  “Good!” said Sydney, “wait a minute, boys till we hunt up a drum and fife. The band will play on the veranda.”

  She, Rosie, and Lulu hurried into the house as she spoke.

  “Yes, I’ll lend you mine,” shouted Walter, after them. “They’re up in the play-room;— two drums, two mouth organs and a fife, and a trumpet.”

  The boys waited, employing the time in preparing piles of snowballs, and presently the girls came rushing back bringing the musical instruments mentioned by Walter, and a jews-harp and accordéon beside.

  These were quickly distributed and the band struck up— not one tune but several; “Hail Columbia,” “Yankee Doodle,” and “Star Spangled Banner;”— having forgotten in their haste to agree upon a tune.

  The music, if music it could be called— was greeted with roars of laughter, and ceased at once.

  “Oh this will never do!” cried Maud; “we must settle upon some one of the national airs. Shall it be ’Yankee Doodle’?”

  “Yes,” they all said, and began again, with less discord but not keeping very good time.

  Harold and his party were in the fort, a huge heap of balls beside them.

  “Now man your guns, my lads, and be ready to give a vigorous repulse to the approaching foe,” he said.

  Chester had drawn up his men in line of battle. Max was among them.

  “Wait!” he cried, “I’m going into the fort.”