Elsie Dinsmore Page 4

  CHAPTER FOURTH

  "With more capacity for love than earth Bestows on most of mortal mould and birth." --BYRON.

  "What are our hopes? Like garlands, on afflictions's forehead worn, Kissed in the morning, and at evening torn." --DAVENPORT'S _King John and Matilda._

  Such had been the state of affairs for about a week, when one morningElsie and her father met at the breakfast-room door.

  "Good morning, papa," she said timidly.

  "Good morning, Elsie," he replied in an unusually pleasant tone.

  Then, taking her by the hand, he led her in and seated her besidehimself at the table.

  Elsie's cheek glowed and her eyes sparkled with pleasure.

  There were several guests present, and she waited patiently while theyand the older members of the family were being helped. At length it washer turn.

  "Elsie, will you have some meat?" asked her grandfather.

  "No," said her father, answering for her; "once a day is as often as achild of her age ought to eat meat; she may have it at dinner, butnever for breakfast or tea."

  The elder Mr. Dinsmore laughed, saying, "Really, Horace, I had no ideayou were so notionate. I always allowed you to eat whatever youpleased, and I never saw that it hurt you. But, of course, you mustmanage your own child in your own way."

  "If you please, papa, I had rather have some of those hot cakes," saidElsie, timidly, as her father laid a slice of bread upon her plate.

  "No," said he decidedly; "I don't approve of hot bread for children;you must eat the cold." Then to a servant who was setting down a cup ofcoffee beside the little girl's plate, "Take that away, Pomp, and bringMiss Elsie a tumbler of milk. Or would you prefer water, Elsie?"

  "Milk, if you please, papa," she replied with a little sigh; for shewas extremely fond of coffee, and it was something of a trial to giveit up.

  Her father put a spoonful of stewed fruit upon her plate, and as Pompeyset down a tumbler of rich milk beside it, said, "Now you have yourbreakfast before you, Elsie. Children in England are not allowed to eatbutter until they are ten or eleven years of age, and I think it anexcellent plan, to make them grow up rosy and healthy. I have neglectedmy little girl too long, but I intend to begin to take good care of hernow," he added, with a smile, and laying his hand for an instant uponher head.

  The slight caress and the few kind words were quite enough to reconcileElsie to the rather meagre fare, and she ate it with a happy heart. Butthe meagre fare became a constant thing, while the caresses and kindwords were not; and though she submitted without a murmur, she couldnot help sometimes looking with longing eyes at the coffee and hotbuttered rolls, of which she was very fond. But she tried to becontented, saying to herself, "Papa knows best, and I ought to besatisfied with whatever he gives me."

  "Isn't it delightful to have your papa at home, Elsie?" Mr. Dinsmoreone morning overheard Arthur saying to his little girl in a mockingtone. "It's very pleasant to live on bread and water, isn't it, eh?"

  "I _don't_ live on bread and water," Elsie replied, a littleindignantly. "Papa always allows me to have as much good, rich milk,and cream, and fruit as I want, or I can have eggs, or cheese, orhoney, or anything else, except meat and hot cakes, and butter, andcoffee; and who wouldn't rather do without such things all their livesthan not have a papa to love them? And besides, you know, Arthur, thatI can have all the meat I want at dinner."

  "Pooh! that's nothing; and _I_ wouldn't give much for all the love_you_ get from him," said Arthur, scornfully.

  There was something like a sob from Elsie; and as her father rose andwent to the window, he just caught a glimpse of her white dressdisappearing down the garden walk.

  "What do you mean, sir, by teasing Elsie in that manner?" he exclaimedangrily to Arthur, who still stood where the little girl had left him,leaning against one of the pillars of the portico.

  "I only wanted to have a little fun," returned the boy doggedly.

  "Well, sir, I don't approve of such fun, and you will please to let thechild alone in future," replied his brother as he returned to hisnewspaper again.

  But somehow the paper had lost its interest. He seemed constantly tohear that little sob, and to see a little face all wet with tears ofwounded feeling.

  Just then the school-bell rang, and suddenly throwing down his paper,he took a card from his pocket, wrote a few words upon it, and callinga servant, said, "Take this to Miss Day."

  Elsie was seated at her desk, beginning her morning's work, when theservant entered and handed the card to the governess.

  Miss Day glanced at it and said:

  "Elsie, your father wants you. You may go."

  Elsie rose in some trepidation and left the room, wondering what herpapa could want with her.

  "Where is papa, Fanny?" she asked of the servant.

  "In de drawin'-room, Miss Elsie," was the reply; and she hastened toseek him there.

  He held out his hand as she entered, saying with a smile, "Come here,daughter."

  It was the first time he had called her that, and it sent a thrill ofjoy to her heart.

  She sprang to his side, and, taking her hand in one of his, and layingthe other gently on her head, and bending it back a little, he lookedkeenly into her face. It was bright enough now, yet the traces of tearswere very evident.

  "You have been crying," he said, in a slightly reproving tone. "I amafraid you do a great deal more of that than is good for you. It is avery babyish habit, and you must try to break yourself of it."

  The little face flushed painfully, and the eyes filled again.

  "There," he said, stroking her hair, "don't begin it again. I am goingto drive over to Ion, where your friend Mr. Travilla lives, to spendthe day; would my little daughter like to go with me?"

  "Oh! so _very_ much, papa!" she answered eagerly.

  "There are no little folks there," he said smiling, "nobody to see butMr. Travilla and his mother. But I see you want to go; so run and askAunt Chloe to get you ready. Tell her I want you nicely dressed, andthe carriage will be at the door in half an hour."

  Elsie bounded away to do his bidding, her face radiant with happiness;and at the specified time came down again, looking so very lovely thather father gazed at her with proud delight, and could not refrain fromgiving her a kiss as he lifted her up to place her in the carriage.

  Then, seating himself beside her, he took her hand in his; and, closingthe door with the other, bade the coachman drive on.

  "I suppose you have never been to Ion, Elsie?" he said, inquiringly.

  "No, sir; but I have heard Aunt Adelaide say she thought it a verypretty place," replied the little girl.

  "So it is--almost as pretty as Roselands," said her father. "Travillaand I have known each other from boyhood, and I spent many a happy dayat Ion, and we had many a boyish frolic together, before I ever thoughtof you."

  He smiled, and patted her cheek as he spoke.

  Elsie's eyes sparkled. "O papa!" she said eagerly; "won't you tell meabout those times? It seems so strange that you were ever a little boyand I was nowhere."

  He laughed. Then said, musingly, "It seems but a very little while tome, Elsie, since I was no older than you are now."

  He heaved a sigh, and relapsed into silence.

  Elsie wished very much that he would grant her request, but did notdare to disturb him by speaking a word; and they rode on quietly forsome time, until a squirrel darting up a tree caught her eye, and sheuttered an exclamation. "O papa! did you see that squirrel? look at himnow, perched up on that branch. There, we have passed the tree, and nowhe is out of sight."

  This reminded Mr. Dinsmore of a day he had spent in those woods huntingsquirrels, when quite a boy, and he gave Elsie an animated account ofit. One of the incidents of the day had been the accidental dischargeof the fowling-piece of one of his young companions, close at HoraceDinsmore's side, missing him by but a hair's breadth.

 
; "I felt faint and sick when I knew how near I had been to death," hesaid, as he finished his narrative.

  Elsie had been listening with breathless interest.

  "Dear papa," she murmured, laying her little cheek against his hand,"how good God was to spare your life! If you had been killed I couldnever have had you for my papa."

  "Perhaps you might have had a much better one, Elsie," he said gravely.

  "Oh! no, papa, I wouldn't want any other," she replied earnestly,pressing his hand to her lips.

  "Ah! here we are," exclaimed her father, as at that instant thecarriage turned into a broad avenue, up which they drove quite rapidly,and the next moment they had stopped, the coachman had thrown open thecarriage door, and Mr. Dinsmore, springing out, lifted his little girlin his arms and set her down on the steps of the veranda.

  "Ah! Dinsmore, how do you do? Glad to see you, and my little friendElsie, too. Why this is really kind," cried Mr. Travilla, in hischeerful, hearty way, as, hurrying out to welcome them, he shook Mr.Dinsmore cordially by the hand, and kissed Elsie's cheek.

  "Walk in, walk in," he continued, leading the way into the house, "mymother will be delighted to see you both; Miss Elsie especially, forshe seems to have taken a very great fancy to her."

  If Mrs. Travilla's greeting was less boisterous, it certainly was notlacking in cordiality, and she made Elsie feel at home at once; takingoff her bonnet, smoothing her hair, and kissing her affectionately.

  The gentlemen soon went out together, and Elsie spent the morning inMrs. Travilla's room, chatting with her and assisting her with somecoarse garments she was making for her servants.

  Mrs. Travilla was an earnest Christian, and the lady and the littlegirl were not long in discovering the tie which existed between them.

  Mrs. Travilla, being also a woman of great discernment, and havingknown Horace Dinsmore nearly all his life, had conceived a very correctidea of the trials and difficulties of Elsie's situation, and withoutalluding to them at all, gave her some most excellent advice, which thelittle girl received very thankfully.

  They were still chatting together when Mr. Travilla came in, saying,"Come, Elsie, I want to take you out to see my garden, hot-house, etc.We will just have time before dinner. Will you go along, mother?"

  "No; I have some little matters to attend to before dinner, and willleave you to do the honors," replied the lady; and taking the littlegirl's hand he led her out.

  "Where is papa?" asked Elsie.

  "Oh! he's in the library, looking over some new books," replied Mr.Travilla. "He always cared more for books than anything else. But whatdo you think of my flowers?"

  "Oh! they are lovely! What a variety you have! what a splendidcape-jessamine that is, and there is a variety of cactus I never sawbefore! Oh! you have a great many more, and handsomer, I think, than wehave at Roselands," exclaimed Elsie, as she passed admiringly from oneto another.

  Mr. Travilla was much pleased with the admiration she expressed, for hewas very fond of his flowers, and took great pride in showing them.

  But they were soon called in to dinner, where Elsie was seated by herfather.

  "I hope this little girl has not given you any trouble, Mrs. Travilla,"said he, looking gravely at her.

  "Oh! no," the lady hastened to say, "I have enjoyed her company verymuch indeed, and hope you will bring her to see me again very soon."

  After dinner, as the day was very warm, they adjourned to the veranda,which was the coolest place to be found; it being on the shady side ofthe house, and also protected by thick trees, underneath which abeautiful fountain was playing.

  But the conversation was upon some subject which did not interestElsie, and she presently stole away to the library, and seating herselfin a corner of the sofa, was soon lost to everything around her in theintense interest with which she was reading a book she had taken fromthe table.

  "Ah! that is what you are about, Miss Elsie! a bookworm, just like yourfather, I see. I had been wondering what had become of you for the lasttwo hours," exclaimed Mr. Travilla's pleasant voice; and sitting downbeside her, he took the book from her hand, and putting it behind him,said, "Put it away now; you will have time enough to finish it, and Iwant you to talk to me."

  "Oh! please let me have it," she pleaded. "I shall not have much time,for papa will soon be calling me to go home."

  "No, no, he is not to take you away; I have made a bargain with him tolet me keep you," said Mr. Travilla, very gravely. "We both think thatthere are children enough at Roselands without you; and so your papahas given you to me; and you are to be _my_ little girl, and call _me_papa in future."

  Elsie gazed earnestly in his face for an instant, saying in ahalf-frightened tone, "You are only joking, Mr. Travilla."

  "Not a bit of it," said he; "can't you see that I'm in earnest?"

  His tone and look were both so serious that for an instant Elsiebelieved he meant all that he was saying, and springing to her feetwith a little cry of alarm, she hastily withdrew her hand which he hadtaken, and rushing out to the veranda, where her father still satconversing with Mrs. Travilla, she flung herself into his arms, andclinging to him, hid her face on his breast, sobbing, "O papa, _dear_papa! _don't_ give me away; please don't--I will be so good--I will doeverything you bid me--I--"

  "Why, Elsie, what does all this mean!" exclaimed Mr. Dinsmore in greatsurprise and perplexity; while Mr. Travilla stood in the doorwaylooking half amused, half sorry for what he had done.

  "O papa!" sobbed the little girl, still clinging to him as thoughfearing she should be torn from his arms, "Mr. Travilla says you havegiven me to him. O papa! _don't_ give me away."

  "Pooh! nonsense, Elsie! I am ashamed of you! how can you be so verysilly as to believe for one moment anything so perfectly absurd as thatI should think of giving you away? Why, I would as soon think ofparting with my eyes."

  Elsie raised her head and gazed searchingly into his face; then with adeep-drawn sigh of relief, dropped it again, saying, "Oh! I am _so_glad."

  "Really, Miss Elsie," said Travilla, coming up and patting her on theshoulder, "I can't say that I feel much complimented; and, indeed, Idon't see why you need have been so very much distressed at theprospect before you; for I must say I have vanity enough to imaginethat I should make the better--or at least the more indulgent--fatherof the two. Come, now, wouldn't you be willing to try me for a month,if your papa will give consent?"

  Elsie shook her head.

  "I will let you have your own way in everything," urged Travilla,coaxingly; "and I know that is more than he does."

  "I don't want my own way, Mr. Travilla; I know it wouldn't always be agood way," replied Elsie, decidedly.

  Her father laughed and passed his hand caressingly over her curls.

  "I thought you liked me, little Elsie," said Travilla, in a tone ofdisappointment.

  "So I do, Mr. Travilla; I like you very much," she replied.

  "Well, don't you think I would make a good father?"

  "I am sure you would be very kind, and that I should love you verymuch; but not so much as I love my own papa; because, you know, you are_not_ my papa, and never can be, even if he _should_ give me to you."

  Mr. Dinsmore laughed heartily, saying, "I think you may as well give itup, Travilla; it seems I'll have to keep her whether or no, for sheclings to me like a leech."

  "Well, Elsie, you will at least come to the piano and play a little forme, will you not?" asked Travilla, smiling.

  But Elsie still clung to her father, seeming loath to leave him, untilhe said, in his grave, decided way, "Go, Elsie; go at once, and do asyou are requested."

  Then she rose instantly to obey.

  Travilla looked somewhat vexed. "I wish," he afterward remarked to hismother, "that Dinsmore was not quite so ready to second my requestswith his commands. I want Elsie's compliance to be voluntary; else Ithink it worth very little."

  Elsie played and sang until they were called to tea; after which shesat quietly by her father's s
ide, listening to the conversation of herelders until the carriage was announced.

  "Well, my daughter," said Mr. Dinsmore, when they were fairly upontheir way to Roselands, "have you had a pleasant day?"

  "Oh! _very pleasant_, papa, excepting--" She paused, looking a littleembarrassed.

  "Well, excepting what?" he asked, smiling down at her.

  "Excepting when Mr. Travilla frightened me so, papa," she replied,moving closer to his side, blushing and casting down her eyes.

  "And you do love your own papa best, and don't want to exchange him foranother?" he said, inquiringly, as he passed his arm affectionatelyaround her waist.

  "Oh! no, dear papa, not for anybody else in all the world," she saidearnestly.

  He made no reply in words, but, looking highly gratified, bent down andkissed her cheek.

  He did not speak again during their ride, but when the carriage stoppedhe lifted her out, and setting her gently down, bade her a kindgood-night, saying it was time for mammy to put her to bed.

  She ran lightly up-stairs, and springing into her nurse's arms,exclaimed, "O mammy, mammy! what a pleasant, _pleasant_ day I have had!Papa has been so kind, and so were Mr. Travilla and his mother."

  "I'se _berry_ glad, darlin', an' I hope you gwine hab many more suchdays," replied Chloe, embracing her fondly and then proceeding to takeoff her bonnet and prepare her for bed, while Elsie gave her a minuteaccount of all the occurrences of the day, not omitting the fright Mr.Travilla had given her, and how happily her fears had been relieved.

  "You look berry happy, my darlin' pet," said Chloe, clasping hernursling again in her arms when her task was finished.

  "Yes, mammy, I am happy, oh! _so_ happy, because I do believe that papais beginning to love me a little, and I hope that perhaps, after awhile, he will love me very much."

  The tears gathered in her eyes as she spoke.

  The next afternoon, as Elsie was returning from her walk, she met herfather.

  "Elsie," said he, in a reproving tone, "I have forbidden you to walkout alone; are you disobeying me?"

  "No, papa," she replied meekly, raising her eyes to his face, "I wasnot alone until about five minutes ago, when Aunt Adelaide and Louiseleft me. They said it did not matter, as I was so near home; and theywere going to make a call, and did not want me along."

  "Very well," he said, taking hold of her hand and making her walk byhis side. "How far have you been?"

  "We went down the river bank to the big spring, papa. I believe it is alittle more than a mile that way; but when we came home, we made itshorter by coming across some of the fields and through the meadow."

  "Through the meadow?" said Mr. Dinsmore; "don't you go there again,Elsie, unless I give you express permission."

  "Why, papa?" she asked, looking up at him in some surprise.

  "Because I forbid it," he replied sternly; "that is quite enough foryou to know; all you have to do is to obey, and you need never ask mewhy, when I give you an order."

  Elsie's eyes filled, and a big tear rolled quickly down her cheek.

  "I did not mean to be naughty, papa," she said, struggling to keep downa sob, "and I will try never to ask why again."

  "There is another thing," said he. "You cry quite too easily; it isentirely too babyish for a girl of your age; you must quit it."

  "I will try, papa," said the little girl, wiping her eyes, and making agreat effort to control her feelings.

  They had entered the avenue while this conversation was going on, andwere now drawing near the house; and just at this moment a little girlabout Elsie's age came running to meet them, exclaiming, "O Elsie! I'mglad you've come at last. We've been here a whole hour--mamma, andHerbert, and I--and I've been looking for you all this time."

  "How do you do, Miss Lucy Carrington? I see you can talk as fast asever," said Mr. Dinsmore, laughing, and holding out his hand.

  Lucy took it, saying with a little pout, "To be sure, Mr. Dinsmore, itisn't more than two or three weeks since you were at our house, and Iwouldn't forget how to talk in that time." Then, looking at Elsie, shewent on, "We've come to stay a week; won't we have a fine time?" and,catching her friend round the waist, she gave her a hearty squeeze.

  "I hope so," said Elsie, returning the embrace. "I am glad you havecome."

  "Is your papa here, Miss Lucy?" asked Mr. Dinsmore.

  "Yes, sir; but he's going home again to-night, and then he'll come backfor us next week."

  "I must go in and speak to him," said Mr. Dinsmore. "Elsie, do youentertain Lucy."

  "Yes, sir, I will," said Elsie. "Come with me to my room, won't you,Lucy?"

  "Yes; but won't you speak to mamma first? and Herbert, too; you aresuch a favorite with both of them; and they still are in thedressing-room, for mamma is not very well, and was quite fatigued withher ride."

  Lucy led the way to her mamma's room, as she spoke, Elsie following.

  "Ah! Elsie dear, how do you do? I'm delighted to see you," said Mrs.Carrington, rising from the sofa as they entered.

  Then, drawing the little girl closer to her, she passed her armaffectionately around her waist, and kissed her several times.

  "I suppose you are very happy now that your papa has come home atlast?" she said, looking searchingly into Elsie's face. "I remember youused to be looking forward so to his return; constantly talking of itand longing for it."

  Poor Elsie, conscious that her father's presence had not brought withit the happiness she had anticipated, and yet unwilling either toacknowledge that fact or tell an untruth, was at a loss what to say.

  But she was relieved from the necessity of replying by Herbert, Lucy'stwin brother, a pale, sickly-looking boy, who had for several yearsbeen a sufferer from hip complaint.

  "O Elsie!" he exclaimed, catching hold of her hand and squeezing itbetween both of his, "I'm ever so glad to see you again."

  "Yes," said Mrs. Carrington, "Herbert always says nobody can tell himsuch beautiful stories as Elsie; and nobody but his mother and his oldmammy was half so kind to run and wait on him when he was laid on hisback for so many weeks. He missed you very much when we went home, andoften wished he was at Roselands again."

  "How is your hip now, Herbert?" asked Elsie, looking pityingly at theboy's pale face.

  "Oh! a great deal better, thank you. I can take quite long walkssometimes now, though I still limp, and cannot run and leap like otherboys."

  They chatted a few moments longer, and then Elsie went to her room tohave her hat taken off, and her hair made smooth before the tea-bellshould ring.

  The two little girls were seated together at the table, Elsie's papabeing on her other side.

  "How nice these muffins are! Don't you like them, Elsie?" asked Lucy,as she helped herself to a third or fourth.

  "Yes, very much," said Elsie, cheerfully.

  "Then what are you eating that cold bread for? and you haven't got anybutter, either. Pompey, why don't hand Miss Elsie the butter?"

  "No, Lucy, I mustn't have it. Papa does not allow me to eat hot cakesor butter," said Elsie, in the same cheerful tone in which she hadspoken before.

  Lucy opened her eyes very wide, and drew in her breath.

  "Well," she exclaimed, "I guess if _my_ papa should try that on me, I'dmake such a fuss he'd _have_ to let me eat just whatever I wanted."

  "Elsie knows better than to do that," said Mr. Dinsmore, who hadoverheard the conversation; "she would only get sent away from thetable and punished for her naughtiness."

  "I wouldn't do it anyhow, papa," said Elsie, raising her eyesbeseechingly to his face.

  "No, daughter, I don't believe you would," he replied in an unusuallykind tone, and Elsie's face flushed with pleasure.

  Several days passed away very pleasantly, Lucy sharing Elsie's studiesin the mornings, while Herbert remained with his mamma; and then in theafternoon all walking or riding out together, unless the weather wastoo warm, when they spent the afternoon playing in the veranda, on theshady side of the house, and took th
eir ride or walk after the sun wasdown.

  Arthur and Walter paid but little attention to Herbert, as his lamenessprevented him from sharing in the active sports which they preferred;for they had never been taught to yield their wishes to others, andwere consequently extremely selfish and overbearing; but Elsie was verykind, and did all in her power to interest and amuse him.

  One afternoon they all walked out together, attended by Jim; but Arthurand Walter, unwilling to accommodate their pace to Herbert's slowmovements, were soon far in advance, Jim following close at their heels.

  "They're quite out of sight," said Herbert presently, "and I'm verytired. Let's sit down on this bank, girls; I want to try my new bow,and you may run and pick up my arrows for me."

  "Thank you, sir," said Lucy, laughing; "Elsie may do it if she likes,but as for me, _I_ mean to take a nap; this nice, soft grass will makean elegant couch;" and throwing herself down, she soon was, orpretended to be, in a sound slumber; while Herbert, seating himselfwith his back against a tree, amused himself with shooting his arrowshere and there, Elsie running for them and bringing them to him, untilshe was quite heated and out of breath.

  "Now I must rest a little, Herbert," she said at length, sitting downbeside him. "Shall I tell you a story?"

  "Oh! yes, do; I like your stories, and I don't mind leaving offshooting till you're done," said he, laying down his bow.

  Elsie's story lasted about ten minutes, and when she had finished,Herbert took up his bow again, saying, "I guess you're rested now,Elsie," and sent an arrow over into the meadow.

  "There! just see how far I sent that! do run and bring it to me,Elsie!" he cried, "and let me see if I can't hit that tree next time;I've but just missed it."

  "I'm tired, Herbert; but I'll run and bring it to you this once,"replied Elsie, forgetting entirely her father's prohibition; "but thenyou must try to wait until Jim comes back before you shoot any more."

  So saying, she darted away, and came back in a moment with the arrow inher hand. But a sudden recollection had come over her just as she leftthe meadow, and throwing down the arrow at the boy's feet, sheexclaimed in an agitated tone, "O Herbert! I must go home just asquickly as I can; I had forgotten--oh! how _could_ I forget! oh! whatwill papa say!"

  "Why, what's the matter?" asked Herbert in alarm.

  "Never mind," said Elsie, sobbing. "There are the boys coming; theywill take care of you, and I must go home. Good-bye."

  And she ran quickly up the road, Herbert following her retreating formwith wondering eyes.

  Elsie sped onward, crying bitterly as she went.

  "Where is papa!" she inquired of a servant whom she met in the avenue.

  "Dunno, Miss Elsie, but I reckon Massa Horace am in de house, kase hishorse am in de stable."

  Elsie hardly waited for the answer, but hurrying into the house, wentfrom room to room, looking and asking in vain for her father. He wasnot in the drawing-room, or the library, or his own apartments. She hadjust come out of this, and meeting a chamber-maid in the hall, sheexclaimed, "O Fanny! where _is_ papa? can't you tell me? for I must seehim."

  "Here I am, Elsie; what do you want with me?" called out her father'svoice from the veranda, where she had neglected to look.

  "What do you want?" he repeated, as his little girl appeared before himwith her flushed and tearful face. Elsie moved slowly toward him, witha timid air and downcast eyes.

  "I wanted to tell you something, papa," she said in a low, tremuloustone.

  "Well, I am listening," said he, taking hold of her hand and drawingher to his side. "What is it? are you sick or hurt?"

  "No, papa, not either; but--but, O papa! I have been a very naughtygirl," she exclaimed, bursting into tears, and sobbing violently. "Idisobeyed you, papa. I--I have been in the meadow."

  "Is it possible! Would you _dare_ to do so when I so positively forbadeit only the other day?" he said in his sternest tone, while a darkfrown gathered on his brow. "Elsie, I shall have to punish you."

  "I did not intend to disobey you, papa," she sobbed; "I quite forgotthat you had forbidden me to go there."

  "That is no excuse, no excuse at all," said he severely; "You must_remember_ my commands; and if your memory is so poor I shall findmeans to strengthen it."

  He paused a moment, still looking sternly at the little, trembling,sobbing girl at his side; then asked, "What were you doing in themeadow? tell me the whole story, that I may understand just howseverely I ought to punish you."

  Elsie gave him all the particulars; and when, upon questioning herclosely, he perceived how entirely voluntary her confession had been,his tone and manner became less stern, and he said quite mildly, "Well,Elsie, I shall not be very severe with you this time, as you seem to bevery penitent, and have made so full and frank a confession; but bewarehow you disobey me again, for you will not escape so easily anothertime; and remember I will not take forgetfulness as any excuse. Go nowto Aunt Chloe, and tell her from me that she is to put you immediatelyto bed."

  "It is only the middle of the afternoon, papa," said Elsie,deprecatingly.

  "If it were much _earlier_, Elsie, it would make no difference; youmust go at once to your bed, and stay there until to-morrow morning."

  "What will Lucy and Herbert think when they come in and can't find me,papa?" she said, weeping afresh.

  "You should have thought of that before you disobeyed me," he answeredvery gravely. "If you are hungry," he added, "you may ask Chloe to getyou a slice of bread or a cracker for your supper, but you can havenothing else."

  Elsie lingered, looking timidly up into his face as though wanting tosay something, but afraid to venture.

  "Speak, Elsie, if you have anything more to say," he said encouragingly.

  "Dear papa, I am _so_ sorry I have been so naughty," she murmured,leaning her head against the arm of his chair, while the tears rolledfast down her cheeks; "won't you please forgive me, papa? it seems tome I can't go to sleep to-night if you are angry with me."

  He seemed quite touched by her penitence. "Yes, Elsie," he said, "I doforgive you. I am not at all angry with you now, and you may go tosleep in peace. Good night, my little daughter," and he bent down andpressed his lips to her brow.

  Elsie held up her face for another, and he kissed her lips.

  "Good night, dear papa," she said, "I hope I shall never be such anaughty girl again." And she went to her room, made almost happy bythat kiss of forgiveness.

  Elsie was up quite early the next morning and had learned all herlessons before breakfast. As she came down the stairs she saw, throughthe open door, her papa standing with some of the men-servants,apparently gazing at some object lying on the ground. She ran out andstood on the steps of the portico, looking at them and wondering whatthey were doing.

  Presently her father turned round, and seeing her, held out his hand,calling, "Come here, Elsie."

  She sprang quickly down the steps, and running to him, put her hand inhis, saying, "Good morning, papa."

  "Good morning, daughter," said he, "I have something to show you."

  And leading her forward a few paces, he pointed to a large rattlesnakelying there.

  "O papa!" she cried, starting back and clinging to him.

  "It will not hurt you _now_" he said; "it is dead; the men killed itthis morning _in the meadow_. Do you see _now_ why I forbade you to gothere?"

  "O papa!" she murmured, in a low tone of deep feeling, laying her cheekaffectionately against his hand, "I might have lost my life by mydisobedience. How good God was to take care of me! Oh! I hope I shallnever be so naughty again."

  "I hope not," said he gravely, but not unkindly; "and I hope that youwill always, after this, believe that your father has some good reasonfor his commands, even although he may not choose to explain it to you."

  "Yes, papa, I think I will," she answered, humbly.

  The breakfast-bell had rung, and he now led her in and seated her atthe table.

  Lucy Carrington looked curiously at her, and so
on took an opportunityto whisper, "Where were you last night, Elsie? I couldn't find you, andyour papa wouldn't say what had become of you, though I am quite surehe knew."

  "I'll tell you after breakfast," replied Elsie, blushing deeply.

  Lucy waited rather impatiently until all had risen from the table, andthen, putting her arm round Elsie's waist, she drew her out on to theveranda, saying, "now, Elsie, tell me; you know you promised."

  "I was in bed," replied Elsie, dropping her eyes, while the colormounted to her very hair.

  "In bed! before five o'clock!" exclaimed Lucy in a tone ofastonishment. "Why, what was that for?"

  "Papa sent me," replied Elsie, with an effort. "I had been naughty, anddisobeyed him."

  "Why, how strange! Do tell me what you had done!" exclaimed Lucy, witha face full of curiosity.

  "Papa had forbidden me to go into the meadow, I forgot all about it,and ran in there to get Herbert's arrow for him," replied Elsie,looking very much ashamed.

  "Was _that all?_ why _my_ papa wouldn't have punished me for that,"said Lucy. "He might have scolded me a little if I had done it onpurpose, but if I had told him I had forgotten, he would only havesaid, 'You must remember better next time.'"

  "Papa says that forgetfulness is no excuse; that I am to remember hiscommands, and if I forget, he will have to punish me, to make meremember better next time," said Elsie.

  "He must be very strict indeed; I'm glad he is not _my_ papa," repliedLucy, in a tone of great satisfaction.

  "Come, little girls, make haste and get ready; we are to start in halfan hour," said Adelaide Dinsmore, calling to them from the hall door.

  The whole family, old and young, including visitors, were on that dayto go on a picnic up the river, taking their dinner along, and spendingthe day in the woods. They had been planning this excursion for severaldays, and the children especially had been looking forward to it with agreat deal of pleasure.

  "Am I to go, Aunt Adelaide? did papa say so?" asked Elsie anxiously, asshe and Lucy hastened to obey the summons.

  "I presume you are to go of course, Elsie; we have been discussing thematter for the last three days, always taking it for granted that youwere to make one of the party, and he has never said you should not,"replied Adelaide, good-naturedly; "so make haste, or you will be toolate. But here comes your papa now." she added, as the library dooropened, and Mr. Dinsmore stepped out into the hall where they werestanding.

  "Horace, Elsie is to go of course?"

  "I do not see the _of course_, Adelaide," said he dryly. "No; Elsie is_not_ to go; she must stay at home and attend to her lessons as usual."

  A look of keen disappointment came over Elsie's face, but she turnedaway without a word and went upstairs; while Lucy, casting a look ofwrathful indignation at Mr. Dinsmore, ran after her, and following herinto her room, she put her arm round her neck, saying, "Never mind,Elsie; it's too bad, and I wouldn't bear it. I'd go in spite of him."

  "No, no, Lucy, I must obey my father; God says so; and besides, Icouldn't do that if I wanted to, for papa is stronger than I am, andwould punish me severely if I were to attempt such a thing," repliedElsie hastily, brushing away a tear that _would_ come into her eye.

  "Then I'd coax him," said Lucy. "Come, I'll go with you, and we willboth try."

  "No," replied Elsie, with a hopeless shake of the head, "I have foundout already that my papa never breaks his word; and nothing couldinduce him to let me go, now that he has once said I should not. Butyou will have to leave me, Lucy, or you will be too late."

  "Good-bye, then," said Lucy, turning to go; "but I think it is a greatshame, and I shan't half enjoy myself without you."

  "Well now, Horace, I think you might let the child go," was Adelaide'ssomewhat indignant rejoinder to her brother, as the two little girlsdisappeared; "I can't conceive what reason you can have for keeping herat home, and she looks so terribly disappointed. Indeed, Horace, I amsometimes half inclined to think you take pleasure in thwarting thatchild."

  "You had better call me a tyrant at once, Adelaide," said he angrily,and turning very red; "but I must beg to be permitted to manage my ownchild in my own way; and I cannot see that I am under any obligation togive my reasons either to you or to any one else."

  "Well, if you did not intend to let her go, I think you might have saidso at first, and not left the poor child to build her hopes upon it,only to be disappointed. I must say I think it was cruel."

  "Until this morning, Adelaide," he replied, "I did intend to let hergo, for I expected to go myself; but I find I shall not be able to doso, as I must meet a gentleman on business; and as I know thataccidents frequently occur to such pleasure parties, I don't feelwilling to let Elsie go, unless I could be there myself to take care ofher. Whether you believe it or not, it is really regard for my child'ssafety, and _not_ cruelty, that leads me to refuse her thisgratification."

  "You are full of notions about that child, Horace," said Adelaide, alittle impatiently. "I'm sure some of the rest of us could take care ofher."

  "No; in case of accident you would all have enough to do to take careof yourselves, and I shall not think of trusting Elsie in the company,since I cannot be there myself," he answered decidedly; and Adelaide,seeing he was not to be moved from his determination, gave up theattempt, and left the room to prepare for her ride.

  It was a great disappointment to Elsie, and for a few moments her heartrose up in rebellion against her father. She tried to put away thefeeling, but it would come back; for she could not imagine any reasonfor his refusal to let her go, excepting the disobedience of the daybefore, and it seemed hard and unjust to punish her twice for the samefault, especially as he would have known nothing about it but for herown frank and voluntary confession. It was a great pity she had notheard the reasons he gave her Aunt Adelaide, for then she would havebeen quite submissive and content. It is indeed true that she ought tohave been as it was; but our little Elsie, though sincerely desirous todo right, was not yet perfect, and had already strangely forgotten thelesson of the morning.

  She watched from the veranda the departure of the pleasure-seekers, allapparently in the gayest spirits. She was surprised to see that herfather was not with them, and it half reconciled her to staying athome, although she hardly expected to see much of him; but there wassomething pleasant in the thought that he wanted her at home because hewas to be there himself; it looked as though he really had someaffection for her, and even a selfish love was better than none. I donot mean that these were Elsie's thoughts; no, she never would havedreamed of calling her father selfish; but the undefined feeling wasthere, as she watched him hand the ladies into the carriage, and thenturn and reenter the house as they drove off.

  But Miss Day's bell rang, and Elsie gathered up her books and hastenedto the school-room. Her patience and endurance were sorely tried thatmorning, for Miss Day was in an exceedingly bad humor, being greatlymortified and also highly indignant that she had not been invited tomake one of the picnic party; and Elsie had never found her moreunreasonable and difficult to please; and her incessant fault-findingand scolding were almost more than the little girl could bear inaddition to her own sad disappointment. But at last the morning, whichhad seldom seemed so long, was over, and Elsie dismissed from theschool-room for the day.

  At dinner, instead of the usual large party, there were only her fatherand the gentleman with whom he was transacting business, Miss Day, andherself.

  The gentleman was not one of those who care to notice children, butcontinued to discuss business and politics with Mr. Dinsmore, withoutseeming to be in the least aware of the presence of the little girl,who sat in perfect silence, eating whatever her father saw fit to putupon her plate; and Elsie was very glad indeed when at length Miss Dayrose to leave the table, and her papa told her she might go too.

  He called her back though, before she had gone across the room, to saythat he had intended to ride with her that afternoon, but found heshould not be able to do so, and she must take Jim
for a protector, ashe did not wish her either to miss her ride or to go entirely alone.

  He spoke very kindly; Elsie thought with remorse of the rebelliousfeelings of the morning, and, had she been alone with her father, wouldcertainly have confessed them, expressing her sorrow and askingforgiveness; but she could not do so before a third person, moreespecially a stranger; and merely saying, "Yes, papa, I will," sheturned away and left the room. Jim was bringing up her horse as shepassed the open door; and she hastened up-stairs to prepare for herride.

  "O mammy!" she suddenly exclaimed, as Chloe was trying on her hat, "isPomp going to the city to-day?"

  "Yes, darlin', he gwine start directly," said Chloe, arranging hernursling's curls to better advantage, and finishing her work with afond caress.

  "Oh! then, mammy, take some money out of my purse, and tell him to buyme a pound of the very nicest candy he can find," said the little girl,eagerly. "I haven't had any for a long time, and I feel hungry for itto-day. What they had bought for the picnic looked so good, but youknow I didn't get any of it."

  The picnic party returned just before tea-time, and Lucy Carringtonrushed into Elsie's room eager to tell her what a delightful day theyhad had. She gave a very glowing account of their sports andentertainment, interrupting herself every now and then to lament overElsie's absence, assuring her again and again that it had been the onlydrawback upon her own pleasure, and that she thought that Elsie's papawas very unkind indeed to refuse her permission to go. As Elsielistened the morning's feelings of vexation and disappointment returnedin full force; and though she said nothing, she allowed her friend toaccuse her father of cruelty and injustice without offering anyremonstrance.

  In the midst of their talk the tea-bell rang, and they hurried down totake their places at the table, where Lucy went on with her narrative,though in a rather subdued tone, Elsie now and then asking a question,until Mr. Dinsmore turned to his daughter, saying, in his stern way,"Be quiet, Elsie; you are talking entirely too much for a child of yourage; don't let me hear you speak again until you have left the table."

  Elsie's face flushed, and her eyes fell, under the rebuke; and duringthe rest of the meal not a sound escaped her lips.

  "Come, Elsie, let us go into the garden and finish our talk," saidLucy, putting her arm affectionately around her friend's waist as theyleft the table; "your papa can't hear us there, and we'll have a goodtime."

  "Papa only stopped us because we were talking too much at the table,"said Elsie, apologetically; "I'm sure he is willing you should tell meall about what a nice time you all had. But, Lucy," she added, loweringher voice, "please don't say again that you think papa was unkind tokeep me at home to-day. I'm sure he knows best, and I ought not to havelistened to a word of that kind about him."

  "O! well, never mind, I won't talk so any more," said Lucy,good-naturedly, as they skipped down the walk together; "but I do thinkhe's cross, and I wish you were my sister, that you might have my kind,good papa for yours too," she added, drawing her arm more closely abouther friend's waist.

  "Thank you, Lucy," said Elsie, with a little sigh, "I would like to beyour sister, but indeed I would not like to give up my own dear papa,for I love him, oh! _so_ much."

  "Why, how funny, when he's so cross to you!" exclaimed Lucy, laughing.

  Elsie put her hand over her friend's mouth, and Lucy pushed it away,saying, "Excuse me; I forgot; but I'll try not to say it again."

  While the little girls were enjoying their talk in the garden, aservant with a small bundle in her hand came out on the veranda, whereMr. Horace Dinsmore was sitting smoking a cigar, and, casting aninquiring glance around, asked if he knew where Miss Elsie was?

  "What do you want with her?" he asked.

  "Only to give her dis bundle, massa, dat Pomp jus brought from de city."

  "Give it to me," he said, extending his hand to receive it.

  A few moments afterward Elsie and her friend returned to the house, andmeeting Pomp, she asked him if he had brought her candy.

  He replied that he had got some that was very nice indeed, and hethought that Fanny had carried it to her; and seeing Fanny near, hecalled to her to know what she had done with it.

  "Why, Pomp, Massa Horace he told me to give it to him," said the girl.

  Elsie turned away with a very disappointed look.

  "You'll go and ask him for it, won't you?" asked Lucy, who was anxiousto enjoy a share of the candy as well as to see Elsie gratified.

  "No," said Elsie, sighing, "I had rather do without it."

  Lucy coaxed for a little while, but finding it impossible to persuadeElsie to approach her father on the subject, finally volunteered to dothe errand herself.

  Elsie readily consented, and Lucy, trembling a little in spite of herboast that she was not afraid of him, walked out on to the verandawhere Mr. Dinsmore was still sitting, and putting on an air of greatconfidence, said:

  "Mr. Dinsmore, will you please to give me Elsie's candy? she wants it."

  "Did Elsie send you?" he asked in a cold, grave tone.

  "Yes, sir," replied Lucy, somewhat frightened.

  "Then, if you please, Miss Lucy, you may tell Elsie to come directly tome."

  Lucy ran back to her friend, and Elsie received the message in sometrepidation, but as no choice was now left her, she went immediately toher father.

  "Did you want me, papa?" she asked timidly.

  "Yes, Elsie; I wish to know why you send another person to me for whatyou want, instead of coming yourself. It displeases me very much, andyou may rest assured that you will never get anything that you ask forin that way."

  Elsie hung her head in silence.

  "Are you going to answer me?" he asked, in his severe tone. "Why didyou send Lucy instead of coming yourself?"

  "I was afraid, papa," she whispered, almost under her breath.

  "Afraid! afraid of what?" he asked, with increasing displeasure.

  "Of you, papa," she replied, in a tone so low that he could scarcelycatch the words, although he bent down his ear to receive her reply.

  "If I were a drunken brute, in the habit of knocking you about, beatingand abusing you, there might be some reason for your fear, Elsie," hesaid, coloring with anger; "but, as it is, I see no excuse for it atall and I am both hurt and displeased by it."

  "I am very sorry, papa; I won't do so again," she said, tremblingly.

  There was a moment's pause, and then she asked in a timid hesitatingway, "Papa, may I have my candy, if you please?"

  "No, you may not," he said decidedly; "and understand and remember thatI positively forbid you either to buy or eat anything of the kind againwithout my express permission."

  Elsie's eyes filled, and she had a hard struggle to keep down a risingsob as she turned away and went slowly back to the place where she hadleft her friend.

  "Have you got it?" asked Lucy, eagerly.

  Elsie shook her head.

  "What a shame!" exclaimed Lucy, indignantly. "He's just as cross as hecan be. He's a tyrant, so he is! just a hateful old tyrant, and Iwouldn't care a cent for him, if I were you, Elsie. I'm glad he is notmy father, so I am."

  "I'm afraid he doesn't love me much," sighed Elsie in low, tearfultones, "for he hardly ever lets me have anything, or go anywhere that Iwant to."

  "Well, never mind, _I'll_ send and buy a good lot tomorrow, and we'llhave a regular feast," said Lucy, soothingly, as she passed her armaround her friend's waist and drew her down to a seat on the porticostep.

  "Thank you, Lucy; you can buy for yourself if you like, but not for me,for papa has forbidden me to eat anything of the sort."

  "Oh! of course we'll not let him know anything about it," said Lucy.

  But Elsie shook her head sadly, saying with a little sigh, "No, Lucy,you are very kind, but I cannot disobey papa, even if he should neverknow it, because that would be disobeying God, and He would know it."

  "Dear me, how particular you are!" exclaimed Lucy a little pettishly.

  "El
sie," said Mr. Dinsmore, speaking from the door, "what are you doingthere? Did I not forbid you to be out in the evening air?"

  "I did not know you meant the doorstep, papa. I thought I was only notto go down into the garden," replied the little girl, rising to go in.

  "I see you intend to make as near an approach to disobedience as youdare," said her father. "Go immediately to your room, and tell mammy toput you to bed."

  Elsie silently obeyed, and Lucy, casting an indignant glance at Mr.Dinsmore, was about to follow her, when he said, "I wish her to goalone, if you please, Miss Lucy;" and with a frown and a pout thelittle girl walked into the drawing-room and seated herself on the sofabeside her mamma.

  Mr. Dinsmore walked out on to the portico, and stood there watching themoon which was just rising over the treetops.

  "Horace," said Arthur, emerging from the shadow of a tree near by andapproaching his brother, "Elsie thinks you're a tyrant. She says younever let her have anything, or go anywhere, and you're alwayspunishing her. She and Lucy have had a fine time out here talking overyour bad treatment of her, and planning to have some candy in spite ofyou."

  "Arthur, I do not believe that Elsie would deliberately plan to disobeyme; and whatever faults she may have, I am very sure she is above themeanness of telling tales," replied Mr. Dinsmore, in a tone ofseverity, as he turned and went into the house, while Arthur, lookingsadly crestfallen, crept away out of sight.

  When Elsie reached her room, she found that Chloe was not there; for,not expecting that her services would be required at so early an hour,she had gone down to the kitchen to have a little chat with herfellow-servants. Elsie rang for her, and then walking to the window,stood looking down into the garden in an attitude of thoughtfulness anddejection. She was mentally taking a review of the manner in which shehad spent the day, as was her custom before retiring. The retrospecthad seldom been so painful to the little girl. She had a very tenderconscience, and it told her now that she had more than once during theday indulged in wrong feelings toward her father; that she had alsoallowed another to speak disrespectfully of him, giving by her silencea tacit approval of the sentiments uttered, and, more than that, hadspoken complainingly of him herself.

  "Oh!" she murmured half aloud as she covered her face with her hands,and the tears trickled through her fingers, "how soon I have forgottenthe lesson papa taught me this morning, and my promise to trust himwithout knowing his reasons. I don't deserve that he should love me orbe kind and indulgent, when I am so rebellious."

  "What's de matter, darlin'?" asked Chloe's voice in pitiful tones, asshe took her nursling in her arms and laid her little head against herbosom, passing her hand caressingly over the soft bright curls; "yourole mammy can't bear to see her pet cryin' like dat."

  "O mammy, mammy! I've been such a wicked girl to-day! Oh! I'm afraid Ishall never be good, never be like Jesus. I'm afraid He is angry withme, for I have disobeyed Him to-day," sobbed the child.

  "Darlin'," said Chloe, earnestly, "didn't you read to your ole mammydis very morning dese bressed words: 'If any man sin, we have anadvocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous,' an' de other:'If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us oursins.' Go to de dear, bressed Lord Jesus, darlin', an' ax Him toforgive you, an' I _knows_ He will."

  "Yes, He will," replied the little girl, raising her head and dashingaway her tears, "He will forgive my sins, and take away my wickedheart, and give me right thoughts and feelings. How glad I am youremembered those sweet texts, you dear old mammy," she added, twiningher arms lovingly around her nurse's neck. And then she delivered herpapa's message, and Chloe began at once to prepare her for bed.

  Elsie's tears had ceased to flow, but they were still trembling in hereyes, and the little face wore a very sad and troubled expression asshe stood patiently passive in her nurse's hands. Chloe had soonfinished her labors, and then the little girl opened her Bible, and, asusual, read a few verses aloud, though her voice trembled, and once ortwice a tear fell on the page; then closing the book she stole away tothe side of the bed and knelt down.

  She was a good while on her knees, and several times, as the sound of alow sob fell upon Chloe's ear, she sighed and murmured to herself:"Poor, darlin'! dear, bressed lamb, your ole mammy don't like to heardat."

  Then as the child rose from her kneeling posture she went to her, andtaking her in her arms, folded her in a fond embrace, calling her bythe most tender and endearing epithets, and telling her that her oldmammy loved her better than life--better than anything in the wideworld.

  Elsie flung her arms around her nurse's neck, and laid her head uponher bosom, saying, "Yes, my dear old mammy, I know you love me, and Ilove you, too. But put me in bed now, or papa will be displeased."

  "What makes you so onrestless, darlin'?" asked Chloe, half an hourafterward; "can't you go to sleep no how?"

  "O mammy! if I could only see papa just for one moment to tell himsomething. Do you think he would come to me?" sighed the little girl."Please, mammy, go down and see if he is busy. Don't say a word if heis; but if not, ask him to come to me for just one minute."

  Chloe left the room immediately, but returned the next moment, saying,"I jes looked into de parlor, darlin', an' Mass Horace he mighty busyplayin' chess wid Miss Lucy's mamma, an' I didn't say nuffin' to him.Jes you go sleep, my pet, an' tell Mass Horace all 'bout it in demornin'."

  Elsie sighed deeply, and turning over on her pillow, cried herself tosleep.

  Chloe was just putting the finishing touches to the little girl's dressthe next morning, when Lucy Carrington rapped at the door.

  "Good morning, Elsie," she said; "I was in a hurry to come to you,because it is my last day, you know. Wasn't it too bad of your fatherto send you off to bed so early last night?"

  "No, Lucy, papa has a right to send me to bed whenever he pleases; andbesides, I was naughty and deserved to be punished; and it was not muchmore than half an hour earlier than my usual bedtime."

  "You naughty!" exclaimed Lucy, opening her eyes very wide. "Mamma oftensays she wishes I was half as good."

  Elsie sighed, but made no answer. Her thoughts seemed far away. She wasthinking of what she had been so anxious, the night before, to say toher father, and trying to gain courage to do it this morning. "If Icould only get close to him when nobody was by, and he would look andspeak kindly to me, I could do it then," she murmured to herself.

  "Come, Aunt Chloe, aren't you done? I want to have a run in the gardenbefore breakfast," said Lucy, somewhat impatiently, as Chloe tied anduntied Elsie's sash several times.

  "Well, Miss Lucy, I'se done now," she answered, passing her hand oncemore over her nursling's curls: "but Mass Horace he mighty pertickler'bout Miss Elsie."

  "Yes," said Elsie, "papa wants me always to look very nice and neat;and when I go down in the morning he just gives me one glance from headto foot, and if anything is wrong he is sure to see it and send me backimmediately to have it made right. Now, mammy, please give me my hatand let us go."

  "You's got plenty ob time, chillens; de bell won't go for to ring dishour," remarked the old nurse, tying on Elsie's hat.

  "My chile looks sweet an' fresh as a moss rosebud dis mornin'," sheadded, talking to herself, as she watched the two little girls trippingdown-stairs hand in hand.

  They skipped up and down the avenue several times, and ran all roundthe garden before it was time to go in. Then Elsie went up to Chloe tohave her hair made smooth again. She was just descending for the secondtime to the hall, where she had left Lucy, when they saw a carriagedrive up to the front door.

  "There's papa!" cried Lucy, joyfully, as it stopped and a gentlemansprang out and came up the steps into the portico; and in an instantshe was in his arms, receiving such kisses and caresses as Elsie hadvainly longed for all her life.

  Lucy had several brothers, but was an only daughter, and a very greatpet, especially with her father.

  Elsie watched them with a wistful look and a strange aching at herheart.r />
  But presently Mr. Carrington set Lucy down and turning to her, gave hera shake of the hand, and then a kiss, saying, "How do you do thismorning, my dear? I'm afraid you are hardly glad to see me, as I cometo take Lucy away, for I suppose you have been having fine timestogether."

  "Yes, sir, indeed we have; and I hope you will let her come again."

  "Oh! yes, certainly; but the visits must not be all on one side. Ishall talk to your papa about it, and perhaps persuade him to let ustake you along this afternoon to spend a week at Ashlands."

  "Oh! how delightful!" cried Lucy, clapping her hands. "Elsie, do youthink he will let you go?"

  "I don't know, I'm afraid not," replied the little girl doubtfully.

  "You must coax him, as I do my papa," said Lucy.

  But at this Elsie only shook her head, and just then the breakfast-bellrang.

  Mr. Dinsmore was already in the breakfast-room, and Elsie, going up tohim, said, "Good morning, papa."

  "Good morning, Elsie," he replied, but his tone was so cold that evenif no one else had been by, she could not have said another word.

  He had not intended to be influenced by the information Arthur had somaliciously given him the night before; yet unconsciously he was, andhis manner to his little daughter was many degrees colder than it hadbeen for some time.

  After breakfast Lucy reminded Elsie of a promise she had made to showher some beautiful shells which her father had collected in histravels, and Elsie led the way to the cabinet, a small room openinginto the library, and filled with curiosities.

  They had gone in alone, but were soon followed by Arthur, Walter andEnna.

  Almost everything in the room belonged to Mr. Horace Dinsmore; andElsie, knowing that many of the articles were rare and costly, and thathe was very careful of them, begged Enna and the boys to go out, lestthey should accidentally do some mischief.

  "I won't," replied Arthur. "I've just as good a right to be here asyou."

  As he spoke he gave her a push, which almost knocked her over, and incatching at a table to save herself from falling, she threw down abeautiful vase of rare old china, which Mr. Dinsmore prized veryhighly. It fell with a loud crash, and lay scattered in fragments attheir feet.

  "There, see what you've done!" exclaimed Arthur, as the little groupstood aghast at the mischief.

  It happened that Mr. Dinsmore was just then in the library, and thenoise soon brought him upon the scene of action.

  "Who did this?" he asked, in a wrathful tone, looking from one to theother.

  "Elsie," said Arthur; "she threw it down and broke it."

  "Troublesome, careless child! I would not have taken a hundred dollarsfor that vase," he exclaimed. "Go to your room! go this instant, andstay there until I send for you; and remember, if you ever come in hereagain without permission I shall punish you."

  He opened the door as he spoke, and Elsie flew across the hall, up thestairs, and into her own room, without once pausing or looking back.

  "Now go out, every one of you, and don't come in here again; this is noplace for children," said Mr. Dinsmore, turning the others into thehall, and shutting and locking the door upon them.

  "You ought to be ashamed, Arthur Dinsmore," exclaimed Lucy indignantly;"it was all your own fault, and Elsie was not to blame at all, and youknow it."

  "I didn't touch the old vase, and I'm not going to take the blame ofit, either, I can tell you, miss," replied Arthur, moving off, followedby Walter and Enna, while Lucy walked to the other end of the hall, andstood looking out of the window, debating in her own mind whether shehad sufficient courage to face Mr. Dinsmore, and make him understandwhere the blame of the accident ought to lie.

  At length she seemed to have solved the question; for turning about andmoving noiselessly down the passage to the library door, she gave atimid little rap, which was immediately answered by Mr. Dinsmore'svoice saying, "Come in."

  Lucy opened the door and walked in, closing it after her.

  Mr. Dinsmore sat at a table writing, and he looked up with anexpression of mingled surprise and impatience.

  "What do you want, Miss Lucy?" he said, "speak quickly, for I am verybusy."

  "I just wanted to tell you, sir," replied Lucy, speaking up quiteboldly, "that Elsie was not at all to blame about the vase; for it wasArthur who pushed her and made her fall against the table, and that wasthe way the vase came to fall and break."

  "What made him push her?" he asked.

  "Just because Elsie asked him, and Walter, and Enna to go out, for fearthey might do some mischief."

  Mr. Dinsmore's pen was suspended over the paper for a moment, while hesat thinking with a somewhat clouded brow; but presently turning to thelittle girl, he said quite pleasantly, "Very well, Miss Lucy, I am muchobliged to you for your information, for I should be very sorry topunish Elsie unjustly. And now will you do me the favor to go to herand tell her that her papa says she need not stay in her room anylonger?"

  "Yes, sir, I will," replied Lucy, her face sparkling with delight asshe hurried off with great alacrity to do his bidding.

  She found Elsie in her room crying violently, and throwing her armsaround her neck she delivered Mr. Dinsmore's message, concluding with,"So now, Elsie, you see you needn't cry, nor feel sorry any more; butjust dry your eyes and let us go down into the garden and have a goodtime."

  Elsie was very thankful to Lucy, and very glad that her papa now knewthat she was not to blame; but she was still sorry for his loss, andhis words had wounded her too deeply to be immediately forgotten;indeed it was some time before the sore spot they had made in her heartwas entirely healed. But she tried to forget it all and enter heartilyinto the sports proposed by Lucy.

  The Carringtons were not to leave until the afternoon, and the littlegirls spent nearly the whole morning in the garden, coming into thedrawing-room a few moments before the dinner-bell rang.

  Mrs. Carrington sat on a sofa engaged with some fancy work, whileHerbert, who had not felt well enough to join the other children, hadstretched himself out beside her, putting his head in her lap.

  Mr. Carrington and Mr. Horace Dinsmore were conversing near by.

  Lucy ran up to her papa and seated herself upon his knee with her armaround his neck; while Elsie stopped a moment to speak to Herbert, andthen timidly approaching her father, with her eyes upon the floor, saidin a low, half-frightened tone, that reached no ear but his, "I am verysorry about the vase, papa."

  He took her hand, and drawing her close to him, pushed back the hairfrom her forehead with his other hand, and bending down to her, saidalmost in a whisper, "Never mind, daughter, we will forget all aboutit. I am sorry I spoke so harshly to you, since Lucy tells me you werenot so much to blame."

  Elsie's face flushed with pleasure, and she looked up gratefully; butbefore she had time to reply, Mrs. Carrington said, "Elsie, we want totake you home with us to spend a week; will you go?"

  "I should like to, very much, indeed, ma'am, if papa will let me,"replied the little girl, looking wistfully up into his face.

  "Well, Mr. Dinsmore, what do you say? I hope you can have noobjection," said Mrs. Carrington, looking inquiringly at him; while herhusband added, "Oh! yes, Dinsmore, you must let her go by all means;you can certainly spare her for a week, and it need be no interruptionto her lessons, as she can share with Lucy in the instructions of ourgoverness, who is really a superior teacher."

  Mr. Dinsmore was looking very grave, and Elsie knew from the expressionof his countenance what his answer would be, before he spoke. He hadnoticed the indignant glance Lucy had once or twice bestowed upon him,and remembering Arthur's report of the conversation between the twolittle girls the night before, had decided in his own mind that theless Elsie saw of Lucy the better.

  "I thank you both for your kind attention to my little girl," hereplied courteously, "but while fully appreciating your kindness inextending the invitation, I must beg leave to decline it, as I amsatisfied that home is the best place for her at present." />
  "Ah! no, I suppose we ought hardly to have expected you to spare her sosoon after your return," said Mrs. Carrington; "but, really, I am verysorry to be refused, for Elsie is such a good child that I am alwaysdelighted to have Lucy and Herbert with her."

  "Perhaps you think better of her than she deserves, Mrs. Carrington. Ifind that Elsie is sometimes naughty and in need of correction, as wellas other children, and therefore, I think it best to keep her as muchas possible under my own eye," replied Mr. Dinsmore, looking verygravely at his little daughter as he spoke.

  Elsie's face flushed painfully, and she had hard work to keep frombursting into tears. It was a great relief to her that just at thatmoment the dinner-bell rang, and there was a general movement in thedirection of the dining-room. Her look was touchingly humble as herfather led her in and seated her at the table.

  She was thinking, "Papa says I am naughty sometimes, but oh! how _very_naughty he would think me if he knew all the wicked feelings I hadyesterday."

  As soon as they had risen from the table, Mrs. Carrington bade Lucy goup to her maid to have her bonnet put on, as the carriage was alreadyat the door.

  Elsie would have gone with her, but her father had taken her handagain, and he held it fast.

  She looked up inquiringly into his face.

  "Stay here," he said. "Lucy will be down again in a moment."

  And Elsie stood quietly at his side until Lucy returned.

  But even then her father did not relinquish his hold of her hand, andall the talking the little girls could do must be done close at hisside.

  Yet, as he was engaged in earnest conversation with Mr. Carrington, anddid not seem to be listening to them, Lucy ventured to whisper toElsie, "I think it's real mean of him; he might let you go."

  "No," replied Elsie, in the same low tone, "I'm sure papa knows best;and besides, I _have_ been naughty, and don't deserve to go, though Ishould like to, dearly."

  "Well, good-bye," said Lucy, giving her a kiss.

  It was not until Mr. Carrington's carriage was fairly on its way downthe avenue, that Mr. Dinsmore dropped his little girl's hand; and thenhe said, "I want you in the library, Elsie; come to me in half an hour."

  "Yes, papa, I will," she replied, looking a little frightened.

  "You need not be afraid," he said, in a tone of displeasure; "I am notgoing to hurt you."

  Elsie blushed and hung her head, but made no reply, and he turned awayand left her. She could not help wondering what he wanted with her, andthough she tried not to feel afraid, it was impossible to keep fromtrembling a little as she knocked at the library door.

  Her father's voice said, "Come in," and entering, she found him alone,seated at a table covered with papers and writing materials, whilebeside the account book in which he was writing lay a pile of money, inbank notes, and gold and silver.

  "Here, Elsie," he said, laying down his pen, "I want to give you yourmonth's allowance. Your grandfather has paid it to you heretofore, butof course, now that I am at home, I attend to everything that concernsyou. You have been receiving eight dollars--I shall give you ten," andhe counted out the money and laid it before her as he spoke; "but Ishall require a strict account of all that you spend. I want you tolearn to keep accounts, for if you live, you will some day have a greatdeal of money to take care of; and here is a blank book that I haveprepared, so that you can do so very easily. Every time that you layout or give away any money, you must set it down here as soon as youcome home; be particular about that, lest you should forget something,because you must bring your book to me at the end of every month, andlet me see how much you have spent, and what is the balance in hand;and if you are not able to make it come out square, and tell me whatyou have done with every penny, you will lose either the whole or apart of your allowance for the next month, according to the extent ofyour delinquency. Do you understand?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Very well. Let me see now how much you can remember of your lastmonth's expenditures. Take the book and set down everything you canthink of."

  Elsie had a good memory, and was able to remember how she had spentalmost every cent during the time specified; and she set down one itemafter another, and then added up the column without any mistake.

  "That was very well done," said her father approvingly. And thenrunning over the items half aloud, "Candy, half a dollar; remember,Elsie, there is to be no more money disposed of in that way; not as amatter of economy, by any means, but because I consider is veryinjurious. I am very anxious that you should grow up strong andhealthy. I would not for anything have you a miserable dyspeptic."

  Then suddenly closing the book and handing it to her, he said,inquiringly, "You were very anxious to go to Ashlands?"

  "I would have liked to go, papa, if you had been willing," she repliedmeekly.

  "I am afraid Lucy is not a suitable companion for you, Elsie. I thinkshe puts bad notions into your head," he said very gravely.

  Elsie flushed and trembled, and was just opening her lips to make herconfession, when the door opened and her grandfather entered. She couldnot speak before him, and so remained silent.

  "Does she not sometimes say naughty things to you?" asked her father,speaking so low that her grandfather could not have heard.

  "Yes, sir," replied the little girl, almost under her breath.

  "I thought so," said he, "and therefore I shall keep you apart asentirely as possible; and I hope there will be no murmuring on yourpart."

  "No, papa, you know best," she answered, very humbly.

  Then, putting the money into her hands, he dismissed her. When she hadgone out he sat for a moment in deep thought. Elsie's list of articlesbought with her last month's allowance consisted almost entirely ofgifts for others, generally the servants. There were some beads andsewing-silk for making a purse, and a few drawing materials; but withthe exception of the candy, she had bought nothing else for herself.This was what her father was thinking of.

  "She is a dear, unselfish, generous little thing," he said to himself."However, I may be mistaken; I must not allow myself to judge from onlyone month. She seems submissive, too,"--he had overheard what passedbetween her and Lucy at parting--"but perhaps that was for effect; sheprobably suspected I could hear her--and she thinks me a tyrant, andobeys from fear, not love."

  This thought drove away all the tender feeling that had been creepinginto his heart; and when he next met his little daughter, his mannerwas as cold and distant as ever, and Elsie found it impossible toapproach him with sufficient freedom to tell him what was in her heart.