After the second day she grew very, very weary of her imprisonment and indulged in frequent fits of crying as she heard the gay voices of Max and the young Travillas at sport on the veranda, in the yards below, or knew from the sound of wheels, followed by an hour or more of quiet, that drives were being taken. She knew she was missing a great deal of enjoyment. Being of an active temperament, extremely fond of out-door exercise, made this close confinement even more irksome to her than it would have been to many another. She had nothing to do. She had turned over the contents of her trunk several times, had found her doll, and tried to amuse herself with it, but there was little fun in that without a playmate. She had no book but her Bible, and that she did not care to read; there was too much in it to condemn her. "Papa," she said, when he came with her breakfast on the fourth day, "mayn't I go and run on the beach for ten minutes and then come back?" "What did I tell you about leaving this room?" he asked. "I know you said I shouldn't do it till I asked her pardon," she replied, bursting into a fit of passionate weeping, "but I'll never do that, and if I get sick and die you'll be sorry for keeping me shut up so." "You must not talk to your father in that impertinent manner," he said sternly. "It is not I who keep you here, it is your own self-will; and just so long as that lasts you will remain here." "I haven't a friend in the world," she sobbed; "my own father is cruel to me since he----" "Hush!" he said in stern indignation. "I will have no more of that impertinence! Will you force me to try the virtue of a rod with you, Lucilla?" She started and looked up at him with frightened eyes. "I should be very loath to do so, but advise you to be very careful how you tempt me to it any farther," he said, and left her. He went down with a heavy heart to the breakfast-room where his wife, Max and Gracie awaited his coming. All three greeted his entrance with loving smiles. Vi was looking very lovely, and he noticed with gratitude that Gracie's eyes were bright and her cheeks faintly tinged with pink. She was improving rapidly in the bracing sea-air and winning all hearts by her pretty ways. She ran to meet him, crying, "Good-morning, my dear papa!" He took her in his arms and kissed her tenderly two or three times, longing to be able to do the same by the other one upstairs, put her in her place at the table and took his own. A tempting meal was spread upon it, but he felt that he could scarcely enjoy it because it must not be shared with Lulu. Vi read it all in his face, and her heart bled for him. She had seen through all these days of conflict with his stubborn, rebellious child, that his heart was sore over it, though he made great efforts to appear as usual, and never spoke of Lulu except when it was quite necessary.