He looked down at the little daughter who was so dear to him.

"I'd make the trip with ye, Sprite, but yer ma, I'm thinking, will
need me, 'bout the time she knows yer train has started," he said.

"Oh, she will. You _must_ go back to her," cried Sprite.

The conductor entered and stated that all who were intending to leave
the car must leave at once, or remain on board. Captain Seaford stooped
to kiss the little upturned face.

"Oh, father, dear! If you and mother hadn't worked so hard to get me
ready for the long visit, I'd give it up now. I'd rather go back with
you."

"Tut, tut, Sprite! Be a brave lassie, and try to make the trip bravely.
Ye need the good schooling and the merry playmates. The Winter at the
shore is always dull. Cheer up, now. We're to have a letter, remember,
as soon as ye reach Avondale."

"Ay, ay, sir!" he said, as the conductor beckoned, impatiently, and
with another kiss, and a hasty "Good-bye," he left the car.

Sprite knew that he would stand on the platform, and she turned toward
the window.

Through blinding tears, she saw his stalwart form, and she tried to
smile, for his sake.