 Section one of Holidays at Roselands. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Melanie May. Holidays at Roselands by Martha Finley. Chapter one. Oh truth thou art wills tenant in a noble breast, a crown of crystal in an ivory chest. Elsie felt in better spirits in the morning. Her sleep had refreshed her and she arose with a stronger confidence in the love of both her earthly and her heavenly father. She found her papa ready and waiting for her. He took her in his arms and kissed her tenderly. My precious little daughter, he said, Papa is very glad to see you looking so bright and cheerful this morning. I think something was wrong with my little girl last night. Why did she not come to Papa with her trouble? Why did you think I was in trouble, Papa? She asked, hiding her face on his breast. How could I think otherwise when my little girl did not come to bid me goodnight? Though she had not seen me since dinner, and when I went to give her a goodnight kiss, I found her pillow wet and a tear on her cheek. Did you come, Papa? She asked, looking up and glad surprise. I did. Now tell me what troubled you of my own one. I am afraid you will be angry with me, Papa, she said, almost under her breath. Not half so angry as if you refused to give me your confidence. I would be glad to know that my little daughter had not a single thought or feeling concealed for me. He paused the moment, looking down at the little blushing face half hidden on his breast, then went on. Elsie daughter, you are more precious to me than ought else in the wide world and you need not fear that any other can ever take your place in my heart, or that I will make any connection that would render you unhappy. I want no one to love but my little girl, and you must not let the gossip of the servants disturb you. Elsie looked up in unfaigned astonishment. Papa, you seem to know everything about me. Can you read my thoughts? Almost when I can see your face, he answered, smiling at her puzzled look. I cannot quite, though, but I can put things together and make a pretty good guess sometimes. She lay still on his breast for a moment, then raising her eyes timidly to his face again, she said in a half hesitating way. I am afraid it is very naughty of me, Papa, but I can't help thinking that Miss Stevens is very disagreeable. I felt so that first day, and I did not want to take a present from her because it didn't seem exactly right when I didn't like her, but I couldn't refuse. She wouldn't let me, and I have tried to like her since, but I can't. Well, darling, I don't think I am just the proper person to approve you for that, you replied, trying to look grave, for I am afraid I am as naughty as you are. But we won't talk any more about her. See what I have for you this morning? He pointed to the table where lay a pile of pridly bound books which Elsie had not noticed until this moment. They were Abbott's works. Elsie had read several of his historical tales and liked them very much, and her father could hardly have given her a more acceptable present. I was sorry for your disappointment yesterday, he said, but I hope these will make up for it, and they will give you a great deal of useful information, as well as amusement, while it could only be an injury to you to read that trashy book. Elsie was turning over the books with eager delight. Dear Papa, you are so kind and good to me, she said, laying them down to put her arms around his neck and kiss him. I like these books very much, and I don't at all care to read that other one, since you have told me you did not approve of it. That is my own darling child, said he, returning her caress. Your ready obedience deserves a reward. Now put on your hat and we will take our walk. Mr. Trevilla joined them in the avenue, and his kind heart rejoiced to see how clouds of care and sorrow had passed away from his little friend's face, leaving it bright and beaming, as usual. Her father had one hand, and Mr. Trevilla soon possessed himself of the other. I don't altogether like these company days, when you have to be banished from the table, little Elsie, he remarked. I cannot have enjoyed my breakfast without your bright face to look at. I don't like them either, Mr. Trevilla, because I see so little of Papa. I haven't had a ride with him since the company came. You shall have one this afternoon, if nothing happens, said her father quickly. What do you say, Trevilla, to a ride on horseback with the four young ladies you took charge of yesterday, and myself? Bravo! I should be delighted to be of the party, if the ladies don't object. Hey, Elsie, what do you think, with a questioning look down into her glad face? Will they want me? You needn't be a bit afraid, Mr. Trevilla, laughed little girl. I like you next to Papa, and I believe Lucy and the rest like you better. Oh, take care, Elsie. Are you not afraid of hurting his feelings? No danger, as long as she puts me first. Mr. Dinsmore said, bestowing a smile and a loving glance on her. Caroline Howard was in Elsie's room, waiting to show her bracelet, which had just been handed to her by her maid, Pomp having brought it from the city late the night before. Oh, Elsie, I am so glad you have come at last. I have been waiting for half an hour, I should think, to show you these, she said, as Elsie came in from her walk. But how bright and merry you look, so different from last night! What ailed you then? Never mind, replied Elsie, taking the bracelet from her hand and examining it. Oh, this is very pretty, Carrie. The clasp is so beautiful, and they have braided the hair so nicely. Yes, I'm sure Mama will like it. But now that Christmas is gone, I think I will keep it for a New Year's gift. Wouldn't you, Elsie? Yes, perhaps, but I want to tell you, Carrie, what Papa says. He and Mr. Trevilla are going to take you, Lucy, and Mary, and me, riding on horseback this afternoon. Don't you think it will be pleasant? Oh, it will be grand, exclaimed Carrie. Elsie, I think now that your Papa is very kind, and do you know I like him very much indeed, quite as well as I do, Mr. Trevilla. And I've always liked him. He's so pleasant and so funny too sometimes. But I must go and show my bracelet to Lucy. Hark, no, there's the bell, and I'll just leave it here till after breakfast. Elsie opened a drawer, and laid it carefully in, and they ran off to the nursery. Elsie, said her father, when they had finished the morning lessons, there is to be a children's party tonight at Mr. Carlton's, and I have an invitation for you. Would you like to go? Do you wish me to go, Papa? She asked. Not unless you wish to do so, daughter, he said kindly. I cannot go with you, as there are to be none but little people. And I never feel altogether comfortable in seeing my darling go from home without me, and you will, no doubt, be very late in returning and getting to bed, and I fear we'll feel very badly tomorrow in consequence. But this once, at least, you shall just please yourself. All your little guests are going, and it will be very dull and lonesome for you at home, I am afraid. Elsie thought a moment. Dear Papa, you are very kind, she said. But if you please, I would much rather have you decide for me, because I am only a silly little girl, and you are so much older and wiser. He smiled and stroked her hair softly, but said nothing. Are you going to stay at home, Papa? She asked, presently. Yes, daughter, I expect to spend the evening either in this room or the library, as I have letters to write. Oh, then Papa, please let me stay with you. I would like it much better than going to a party. Will you, Papa? Please say yes. But you know I cannot talk to you or let you talk, so that it will be very dull, he said, pushing back the curls from her fair forehead and smiling down into the eager little face. Oh, but if you will only let me sit beside you and read one of my new books, I shall be quite contented, and sit quiet as a little mouse and not say one word without leave. May you stay, Papa? I said you should do as you please, darling, and I always love to have my pet near me. Oh, then I shall say, she cried, clapping her hands. Then with a happy little sigh, it will be so nice, she said, to have one of our quiet evenings again, and she knew by her father's gratified look that she had decided and he would have had her. A servant put his head in at the door. Masa Horace, there's a gentleman in the library asking for you. Very well, Jim. Tell him I will be there in a moment. Elsie, dear, put away your books and go down to your little friends. Yes, Papa, I will, she replied, and he went out and left her. How kind Papa is to me, and how I do love him, she murmured to herself as she placed the books carefully in the drawer where they belonged. She found Lucy and Maude busily engaged in dressing a doll and Carrie deeply interested in a book, but several of the little ones were looking quite disconsolate. Oh, Elsie, do come and play with us, said Flora, and I won't play anything we like. We've been playing Keeping House, but Anna will be Mother all the time, and she scolds and whips us so much that we are all tired of it. Well, what shall we play? asked Elsie, good naturedly. Will you build houses? No, I'm tired of that because Anna takes all the blocks, said another girl. She isn't at all polite to visitors, is she, Flora? No, replied Flora. I don't ever mean to come to see her again. I don't care, retorted Anna angrily, and I don't take all the blocks either. Well, most all you do, said the other, and it isn't polite. They're mine, and I'll have as many as I want, and I don't care if it isn't polite, Anna answered, with a pout that by no means improved her appearance. Will you play O Sister, O Phoebe? asked Elsie. No, no, cried several little voices. Anna always wants to be in the middle, and besides, Arthur always wants to play, and he will kiss us, and we don't like it. Elsie was almost in despair, but Herbert was lying on a sofa reading, suddenly shut his book saying, I tell you what, Elsie, tell us one of those nice fairy stories we all like so much. Yes, do, do! cried several of the little ones, clapping their hands. So Elsie drew up a stool close to Herbert's sofa, and the little ones clustered around her, Anna insisting on having the best place for hearing, and for more than an hour she kept them quiet and interested, but was very glad when it last the maid came to take them out walking, leaving her at liberty to follow her own inclination. What are you going to do now, Elsie? asked Caroline, closing her book. I am going down to the drawing room to ask Aunt Adelaide to show me how to crochet this mitten for Mammy, Elsie answered. Won't you come along, girls? Yes, let's take our sewing down there, said Lucy, gathering up bits of muslin and silk and putting them in her work box. Elsie glanced tastily around as they entered, and gave a satisfied little sigh unperceiving that Miss Stevens was not in the room, and that her Aunt Adelaide was seated with her embroidery near one of the windows, while her Papa sat nearby, reading the morning paper. The little girls soon established themselves in a group on the opposite side of Miss Adelaide's window, and she very good-naturedly gave Elsie the assistance she needed. Elsie, said Lucy, presently in an undertone, Carrie has been showing us her bracelet, and I think it is beautiful. She won't tell us whose hair it is, I guess it's her sister's, maybe, but I'm sure yours would be just as pretty, and I want one for my mama. Won't you give me one of your curls to make it? You have so many that one would never be missed. No, Miss Lucy, said Mr. Dinsmore, looking at them over his paper. You can't tell one of my curls, I can't spare it. I don't want one of your curls, Mr. Dinsmore, laughed Lucy merrily. I didn't ask for it. Your hair is very pretty too, but it would be quite too short. I beg your pardon, Miss Lucy, if my ears deceive me, said he with mock gravity. But I was quite certain I heard you asking for one of my curls. Perhaps, though, you are not aware of the fact that my curls grow on two heads. I don't know what you mean, Mr. Dinsmore, replied Lucy, laughing again. But it was one of Elsie's curls I asked for. Elsie doesn't own any, said he. They all belong to me. I let her wear them, to be sure. But that is all. She has no right to give them away. He turned to his paper again, and Elsie bent over her work, her face flushed, and her little hands trembling so that she could scarcely hold her needle. I am afraid that I ought to tell Papa, she thought, that I did give one of my curls away. I never thought about his caring, but I might have known, because when I wanted my hair cut last summer, he said that they shouldn't one of them be touched. Oh dear, why didn't I think of that? I'm afraid he will be very much displeased. Don't tell him then, whispered the tempter. He is not likely ever to miss it. Nay, but it would be very wrong to hide your faults, said conscience. I will tell him, she resolved. Wait till tomorrow then, whispered the tempter again. If you tell him now, very likely he will deprive you of your ride this afternoon as punishment. So the struggle went on, and a little rest. While the others were chatting and laughing around her, never suspecting what a battle the little girl was fighting in her own heart. Presently Lucy jumped up. Oh, I am so tired of sewing. Come girls, let's put away our things and take a run in the garden. Carrie and Mary readily assented. I must speak to Papa first, Elsie said in a half whisper. But don't wait for me. She had spoken low, but not so low that his quick ear did not catch the sound. He had heard her and laying down his paper on his knee, as the other little girls ran away. He turned half round and held out his hand, asking with a smile. Well, daughter, what is it? What have you to say to Papa? She went to him at once, and he was surprised to see how she was trembling, and that her cheeks were flushed and her eyes full of tears. Why, what ills my darling? he asked tenderly. Adelaide had left the room a moment before, and there was no one near enough to hear. Please, Papa, don't be very angry with me, she pleaded, speaking very low and hesitatingly. I did not know you cared about my girls, and I did not think about them belonging to you, and I did give one to Carrie. He was silent a moment, evidently surprised at her confession, and he said gently, No, dearest, I will not be angry this time. And I feel sure you will not do so again, now that you know that I do care. No, indeed I will not, dear Papa, she replied in a tone of intense relief, But you are not going to punish me, she asked, beginning to tremble again. I was so afraid to tell you, lest you would say I should not have my ride this afternoon. Why, then, did you not put off your confession till after the ride, he asked, looking searchingly into her face. I wanted to very much, Papa, she said, looking down and blushing deeply, but I knew it would be very wrong. My dear, conscientious little daughter, he said, taking her on his knee. Your father loves you better than ever for this new proof of your honesty. Deprivy of your ride? No, indeed. I feel far more like rewarding than punishing you. Ah, I had forgotten. I have something for you. And he put his hand into his pocket and brought out a letter. Oh, it is from Miss Rose. Dear darling Miss Rose was Elsie's joyful exclamation as he put it into her hand. She made a movement as if to get down from his knee, but he detained her. Sit still and read it here, darling, he said. I love to have you on my knee, and if there are any hard places, I can help you. Thank you, Papa. Sometimes there are hard places, at least pretty hard for a little girl like me. Though I think Miss Rose tries to write plainly, because she knows I cannot read writing as well as big people can. She was eagerly tearing off the envelope while she answered him, and then settling herself comfortably on his knee, she began to read. He watched with deep interest the varying expression of her fine open countenance as she read. Once or twice, she asked him to tell her a word, but the most of it she got through without any difficulty. At last she had finished. It is a nice letter, Papa, she said, as she folded it up, and so good of Miss Rose to write again so soon. Are you not going to let me enjoy it, too? he asked. She put it into his hand instantly, saying with a blush, I did not know you would care to read it, Papa. I am interested in all the gifts either pleasure or pain to my little girl, he answered gently. I wish to be a sharer in all her joys and sorrows. Elsie watched him while he read, almost as intently as he had watched her, for she was anxious that he should be pleased with Miss Rose's letter. It was a cheerful, pleasant letter, well suited to interest the child of Elsie's years, giving an account of home scenes, telling of her little brothers and sisters, their love for each other, their gifts they prepared in anticipation for Christmas, et cetera, et cetera. At the close, she made an allusion to Elsie's letter, and expressed her heartfelt sympathy in the little friend's happiness. I am so glad, my darling, she wrote, that your father now loves you so dearly, and that you are so happy in his love, my heart ached for you in the bitter disappointment of your first meeting with him. It is true, you never said you were disappointed, but there was a tone of deep sadness in your dear little letter, the cause of which I, who knew so well how you had looked and longed for his return, and how your little heart had yearned for his affection, could not fail to guess. But, dear child, while you thus rejoice in an earthly father's love, do not forget that you have a father in heaven, who claims the first place in your heart, and who is the giver of every good gift, not even expecting the precious love that now makes your young life so bright and happy. Keep close to Jesus, dear Elsie. He is the only truly satisfying love, the only one we can ever be certain will never fail us. Is it not a nice letter, Papa? asked the little girl, as he refolded it and gave it to her again. Very nice, daughter, he answered in an absent way. He looked very grave, and Elsie studied his countenance in Petley, while for some moments he sat with his eyes bent thoughtfully upon the carpet. She feared that something in the letter had displeased him, but presently he looked at her with his usual affectionate smile, and laying his hand caressingly on her head said, Ms. Allison seems to warn you not to trust too much in the permanence of my affection, but she may not fear that she will ever lose it, unless indeed you cease to be deserving of it. No, nor even then, he added, drawing her closer to him, for even should you grow very naughty and troublesome, you would still be my child, a part of myself, and of my lost Elsie, therefore very dear to me. Ah, Papa, how could I ever bear to lose your love? I think I should die, she said, dropping her head on his breast with a little sob. Oh, if I am ever very, very naughty, Papa, punish me as severely as you will, but oh, never, never quit loving me. Such a hard at rest, my darling, he said tenderly, there is no danger of such a thing. I could not do it if I wished. Ah, there came a time when Elsie was in sore need of all the comfort the memory of those words could give. What are you going to wear to Isabel Carlson's party tonight? Elsie asked Lucy at the dinner table. Nothing, replied Elsie with an arched smile. I am not going, Lucy, she added. Not going? Well, now, I think that is too bad, cried Lucy indignantly. I think it's really mean of your, Papa. He never lets you go anywhere. Oh, Lucy, he let me go to town with Kerry the other day. He has let me stay up late two or three nights since you came. He is going to let me ride with the rest of you this afternoon, and he said that I might do just as I please about going tonight, Elsie summed up rather triumphantly, adding in a very pleasant tone. It is entirely my own choice to stay at home. So you see, Lucy, you must not blame Papa before you know. Lucy looked a little ashamed, while Mary Leslie exclaimed, Your own choice, Elsie, why, how strange! Don't you like parties? Not nearly so well as a quiet evening with Papa, replied Elsie, smiling. Well, you are a queer girl, was Mary's comment, while Caroline expressed her disappointment and vainly endeavored to change Elsie's determination. The little girl was firm because she felt sure she was doing right, and soon managed to change the subject of conversation to the pleasure nearest at hand, the ride they were about to take immediately after dinner. They were a merry party and really enjoyed themselves about as much as they had expected, but they returned earlier than usual, as the gentlemen decided that the little ladies needed some time to rest before the evening entertainment. Elsie assisted her young friends to dress for the party, generously offering to lend them any of her ornaments that they might fancy. Saw them come down, one after another, full of mirth and eager expectation, looking so pretty and graceful in their beautiful evening dresses, heard their expressions of commiseration towards herself, and watched the last carriage roll away without a sigh or regret that she was left behind. And in another moment, the graceful little figure, gliding quietly across the library and sitting down on a stool at Mr. Dinsmore's feet, looked lovingly into his face with a pair of soft dark eyes. His pan was moving rapidly over the paper, but ere long there was a pause and laying his hand caressingly on the curly hat, he said. How quiet my little girl is, but where is your book, daughter? If you please, Papa, I would rather answer Miss Rose's letter. You may, he said, and if you want to stay with me, you may ring the bell and tell the servant to bring your writing desk here. She joyfully avails herself of the permission, and soon her pen was vainly tried to keep pace with her father's. But presently, his was thrown aside, and rising, he stood behind her chair, giving her directions on how to sit, how to hold her pen, how to form this or that letter more correctly, guiding her hand, and commending her efforts to improve. There, you have spelled the word wrong, and I see you have one or two capitals where there should be small letters, and that last sentence is not perfectly grammatical. You said, you must let me correct it when you are done, then you must copy it off more carefully. Elsie looked much mortified. Never mind, daughter, he said kindly, patting her cheek. You did very well for a little girl. I daresay I made a great many more mistakes at your age, and I don't expect you to do better than I did. Oh, Papa, the letters I sent you when you were away must have been full of blunders, I am afraid, she said, blushing deeply. Were you not very much ashamed of me? How could you bear to read them? Ashamed of you, darling? No indeed, neither of you nor them. I loved them all the better for the mistakes, because they showed how entirely your own they were, and I could not but be pleased with them when every line breathed such love to me. My little daughter's confidence and affection are worth more to me than the finest gold or the most priceless jewels. He bent down and kissed her fondly as he spoke, then returned into his seat, bid her finish the letter, and bring it to him when done. He took up his pen, and Elsie collected her thoughts once more, worked busily and silently for another half hour, and then brought her cheek to him for inspection, presenting it with a timid bashful air. I am afraid it is very full of mistakes, Papa, she said. Never mind, daughter, he answered, encouragingly. I know that it takes a great deal of practice to make perfect, and it will be a great pleasure to me to see you improve. He looked over it, pointed out mistakes very kindly and gently, put the capitals in their proper places, corrected punctuation, and showed her how one or two of the sentences might be improved. Then, handing it back, he said, you had better put it in your desk now and leave the copying until tomorrow, as it will soon be your bedtime, and I want you on my knee until then. Elsie's face grew very bright, and she hastened to do his bidding. And may I talk, Papa? She asked, as he pushed away his writing, wheeled his chair about towards the fire, and then took her on his knee. Yes, he said, smiling. That is exactly what I want you to do. Tell me what you have been doing all day, and how you are enjoying your holidays, or talk to me of anything that pleases or troubles you. I love to be made the confidant of my little girl's joys and sorrows, and I want her to always feel that she is sure of her Papa's sympathy. I am so glad that I may tell you everything, my own Papa, she answered, putting her arm around his neck and laying her cheek to his. I have enjoyed this day very much, because I have been with you nearly all the time, and then I had that nice letter from Miss Rose too. Yes, it was a very pleasant letter, he said, and then he asked her what she had been doing all these hours when she had not been with him, and she gave him an animated account of the occurrences of that and several of the preceding days and told of some of the little accidents that had happened. Amongst them, the broken doll, and spoke of the sorrow it had caused her, but she did not blame either Flora or Anna, and concluded her narrative by saying that good kind Mrs. Brown has mended it so that it is almost as good as ever. He listened with evident interest to all she said, expressed sympathy in her little trials, and gave some good advice. But at length, he drew out his watch, and with an exclamation of surprise at the lateness of the hour, told her that it was half an hour after her bedtime, kissed her goodnight, and dismissed her to her room. End of Chapter 1, Recording by Melanie May. Section 2 of Holidays at Roselands. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Melanie May. Holidays at Roselands by Martha Finley. Chapter 2. There comes forever something between us and what we deem our happiness. Brian Sardinopoulos. It was quite late when the young party returned, and the next day all were dull and more than one peevish and fretful, so that Elsie, on whom fell almost entirely the burden of entertaining them, had quite a trying time. She noticed at breakfast that Arthur seen did an uncommonly bad humor, preserving a silent and dogged silence, except once when a sly whisper from Harry Carrington drew from him an exclamation of fierce anger that almost frightened the children, but only made Harry laugh. Presently after, as they were about dispersing, Arthur came to her side and whispered that he had something to say to her in private. Elsie stared and looked extremely annoyed, but said at once that he might come to her room, and that they would be quite alone as Mammy would be downstairs giving her breakfast. She led the way and Arthur followed. He glanced hastily around on entering and then locked the door and stood with his back against it. Elsie became very pale. He didn't even be afraid, he said sneeringly. I'm not going to hurt you. What do you want, Arthur? Tell me quickly, please, because I must soon go to Papa and I have a lesson to go by first, she said mildly. I want you to lend me some money, he replied, speaking in a rapid and determined manner. I know you've got some, for I saw your purse the other day and it had less than five dollars in it, I'm sure, and that's just the sum I want. What do you want it for, Arthur? She asked in a troubled voice. That's none of your business, he answered fiercely. I want the money, I must have it, and I'll pay it back next month. That's all you need to know. No, Arthur, she said, gently but very firmly. Unless you tell me all about it, I cannot lend you a single cent because Papa has forbidden me to do so, and I cannot disobey him. Nonsense! It's nothing but an excuse because you don't choose to do me a favor, he returned, angrily. You were so particular about paying last summer when he made you sit in the afternoon at the piano because you didn't choose to play what he told you to. That was because it would be breaking God's commands. But this is very different, replied Elsie mildly. Well, if you must know, said he fiercely, I want it to pay a debt. I've been owing Dick Percival a dollar or so for several weeks, and last night he won for me again, and he said if I didn't pay up he'd report me to Papa or Horace and get the money from them, and I got off only by promising to let him have the full amount today, but my pocket money's all gone and I can't get anything out of my own because she told me last time I went to her that she couldn't give me any more without Papa finding out all about it. So you see there is nobody but help me but you, Elsie, and there's never any use in asking my sisters for they never have a cent to spare. Now be a good, obliging girl. Come and let me have the money. Oh Arthur, you've been gambling. How could you do so? She exclaimed with a horrified look. It is so very wicked. You'll go to ruin Arthur if you keep on in such bad ways. Do go to grandpa and tell him all about it and promise never to do so again and I'm sure he will forgive you and pay your debts and then you will feel a great deal happier. Tell Papa, indeed, never. I'll die first. Elsie, you must lend me the money, he said, seizing her by the wrist. Let go of me, Arthur, she said, trying to free herself from his grasp. You are stronger than I am, but you know that if you hurt me, Papa will be sure to find it out. He threw her hand from him with a violence that made her stagger and catch it as furniture to save herself from falling. Will you give me the money then? He asked angrily. If I should do so, I would have to put it down in my expense book and tell Papa all about it because he does not allow me to spend one cent without telling him just what it went for, and that would be much worse for you, Arthur, than to go and confess it yourself. A great deal worse, I am sure. You couldn't manage it well enough if you wanted to, said he, solemnly. It would be an easy manner to add a few yards to the flannel and a few pounds to the tobacco that you bought so much of for the old servants. Just give me your book and I'll fix it in a minute and he'll never find out. Arthur, she exclaimed, I could never do such a wicked thing. I would not be seeing Papa so for any money and even if I did, he would be sure to find it out. Someone tried the door. Arthur put his hand on the lock, then, turning toward Elsie again for an instant, shook his fist in her face, muttering with an oath that he would be revenged and make her sorry for her refusal to the last day of her life. Then he opened the door and went out, leaving poor Elsie pale and trembling like a leaf. The person, whoever it was, that had tried the door, had gone away again and Elsie had a few moments alone to recover herself before Chloe came in to tell her that her father could not have her with him that morning as a gentleman had called on business. And much as Elsie had always enjoyed that hour, she was almost glad of the respite. So fearful was she that her father would see something had agitated her and insist upon knowing what it was. She was very much troubled that she had been made the repository of such a secret and fearful that she ought to tell her father or grandfather because it seemed so very important that Arthur should be stopped in his evil courses. But remembering that he had said that her assistance was his only hope for escaping detection, she at length decided that she need not speak about the matter to anyone. She had a trying time that day, endeavoring to keep the children amused, and her ingenuity and patience were taxed to the utmost to think of stories and games that would please them all. It was still early in the afternoon when she seemed to have got quite to the end of her list. She was trying to amuse Emma's set while her three companions and Herbert were taking care of themselves. They had sat down on the floor and were playing jackstones. Let us play jackstones too, said Flora. I don't know how, but Elsie, you can teach me, can't you? No Flora, I cannot indeed for Papa says I must not play that game because he does not like to have me sit down on the floor, replied Elsie. We must try to think of something else. We didn't sit on the floor, need we? Couldn't we play it at the table, asked Flora? I don't know, perhaps we could, but Papa said I mustn't play it, replied Elsie, shaking her head doubtfully. But maybe he'd let you, if we don't sit on the floor, persisted the little girl. Several other little ones joined their entreaties to Flora's and at length Elsie said, well I will go and ask Papa, perhaps he may let me, if I tell him we are not going to sit on the floor. She went to his dressing room, but he was not there. Next she tried the library and was more successful. He was in an easy chair by the fire reading. But now that she had found him, Elsie, remembering how often he had told her not to ask a second time to do what he had once forbidden, was more than half afraid to prefer a request, and very much inclined to go back without doing so. But as she stood a moment irresolute, he looked at from his book and seeing who it was, smiled and held out his hand. She went to him and said timidly, Papa, some of the little ones want me to play jackstones, to teach them how. May I, if we don't sit on the floor? Elsie, he replied, in a tone of great displeasure. It was only the other day that I positively forbade you to play that game. And after all I have said to you about not asking a second time, it surprises me very much that you would dare to do it. Go to my dressing room and stretch yourself in the closet there. Elsie burst into tears as she turned to obey, then hesitatingly asked, May I go down first, Papa, until the children that I can't come to play with them? Elsie, he explained, in his sternest tone, and not daring to utter another word, trembling and weeping, she hastened from the room and shutting herself up as he had been in her. The closet was large and there was a stool she could sit on, but when she had shut the door it was both dark and cold. It was a dismal place to be in, and poor Elsie wondered how long she would have to stay there. It seemed a long, long time, so long that she began to think it must be night, and to fear that perhaps her Papa had forgotten all about having sent her there, or that he considered her so very naughty as to deserve to stay there all night. But at last she heard a step, and he opened the door and called. Elsie? Yes, Papa, I am here, she replied in a trembling voice full of tears. Come to me, he said, and then, as he took her hand. Why, how cold you are, child, he explained. I am really sorry you have been so long in that dismal place. Hyde not intends to punish you so severely, and should not have kept you there more than half an hour, at the very longest, but company came in and I quite forgot you. Well, speaking thus, he had led her up to the fire and sat her down on his knee. My poor darling, he said, these little hands are very cold. Let Papa rub them. Are your feet cold too? Yes, sir, she replied. And he pulled off her shoes and stockings and moved to his chair close to the fire, held her feet out toward the blaze and rubbed them in his warm hands. You have been crying a good deal, he said, looking keenly into her face. Yes, Papa, she replied, dropping her face on his breast and bursting into tears. I thought you were going to leave me there all night. Did you, and were you afraid? No, Papa, not afraid, because I knew you would be sleeping in the next room, and besides, God could take care of me as well on the closet as anywhere else. Is it getting night, Papa, or morning? It is beginning to grow dark, he said. But tell me why you cried if you were not afraid. Partly because I was uncomfortable, Papa. But more because I was sorry I had been naughty and displeased you, and afraid that I could never learn to be good. It is very strange, he remarked, that you cannot learn to not ask against do what I have forbidden. I shall have to punish you every time you do it, for you must learn that no means no, and that you were never to coax or tease after Papa has once said it. I love my little girl very dearly, and I want to do all I can to make her happy, but I must have her entirely submissive and obedient to me. But stop crying now, he added, wiping her eyes with his handkerchief. Kiss me and tell me what you were going to be a good girl, and I will forgive you this time. I will try, Papa, she said, holding up her face for the kiss. And I would not have asked to play that, but the children begged me so. I thought you only said I must have because you didn't want me to sit on the floor, and we were going to try it on the table. Did I give that reason, he asked gravely. No, Papa, she replied, hanging her head. Then you had no right to think so. That was one reason, but not the only one. I have heard that that play enlarges the knuckles, and I don't choose to have these little hands of mine robbed of their beauty, he added, playfully raising them to his lips. Elsie smiled faintly, then drew a deep sigh. Is it so very hard to give up jackstones? he asked. No, Papa, I don't care anything about that, but I was just thinking of how very naughty I must be growing, for you have had to punish me twice in one week, and then I have had such a hard day of it, it was so difficult to amuse the children. I think being up so late last night made them cross. Ah, he said in a sympathizing tone, it had you all the burden of entertaining them? Where were Louise and Laura? They are hardly ever with us, Papa. We are too little to play with them, they say, and Anna won't do anything her little friends want to, and she paused, and the color rushed over her face, with a sudden thought. I'm afraid I am telling tales, and so they put upon you all the trouble of entertaining both your own company and theirs, eh? It is shameful, a downright imposition, and I shall not put up with it, he exclaimed indignantly. I shall speak to Laura and Louise, and tell them they must do their share of the work. Please, Papa, don't, Elsie begged in a frightened tone. I would agree to you rather just go on as we have been, they will be so vexed. And suppose they are, they shall not hurt you, he said, drawing closer to him, and they have no reason to be. I think the children will all want to go to bed early tonight, he added, and then you can come here and sit by me while you copy your letter. Shall you like that? Very much, Papa, thank you. Well, then we will put on our shoes and stockings again, and then you must bathe your eyes and go to your supper, and as soon as the others retire, you may come out to me. Elsie had to make haste, for the tea bell rang almost immediately. The others were just taking their places at the table when she entered the room, and thus their attention being occupied with the business at hand, she escaped the battery of questions and looks of curiosity which she had feared. Flora did turn around after a little task. Why didn't you come back, Elsie? Wouldn't your Papa let you play? But Elsie's quiet, no, seemed to satisfy her, and she made no further remark about it. As Mr. Dinsmore had expected, the children were all ready for bed directly after tea, and then Elsie went to him and had another quiet evening, which she enjoyed so much that she thought it almost made up. For all the troubles and trials of the day, for her father, feeling a little remorseful on account of her long imprisonment in the closet, was, if possible, even more than usually tender and affectionate in his manner toward her. The next morning, Mr. Dinsmore found an opportunity to remonstrate with his sisters on their neglect of the little guests, but did it in such a way that they had no idea that Elsie had been complaining of them, as indeed she had not, but supposed that he himself had noticed their remissness and feeling somewhat ashamed of their wonderful likeness, they went into the children's room after breakfast and exerted themselves for an hour or two for the entertainment of the little ones. It was but a spasmodic effort, however, and they soon grew weary of the exertion, and again let the burden fall upon Elsie. She did the best she could, poor child, but these were tiresome and trying days from back to New Year's Eve. One afternoon, Mr. Hors Dinsmore was sitting in his own room, buried in an interesting book. When the door opened and closed again very quietly, and his little girl stole softly to his side, and laying her head on his shoulder, stood there without uttering a word. For hours, she had been exerting herself to the utmost to amuse the young guests. Her efforts thwarted again and again by the petulance and unreasonableness of Walter and Enna. She had also borne much teasing from Alter, and fault fighting for Mr. Dinsmore, to whom Enna was continually carrying tales. Until at length, no longer able to endure it, she had stolen away to her father to seek comfort. My little girl is tired, he said, passing his arm affectionately around her, and pressing his lips to her forehead. She burst into tears and sobbed quite violently. Why, what is it, darling? What troubles my own sweet child, he asked, in a tone of mingled surprise and alarm, as he hastily laid aside his book and drew her to his knee. Nothing, Papa, at least nothing very bad. I believe I am very silly, she replied, trying to smile through her tears. Must have been something, Elsie, he said very gravely. Something quite serious, I think, to affect you so. Tell me what it was, daughter. Please don't ask me, Papa, she bagged imploringly. I hate concealments, Elsie, and she'll be very much displeased if you try them with me, he answered, almost sternly. Dear Papa, don't be angry, she pleaded, in a tremulous tone. I don't want to have any concealments from you, but you know I ought not to tell tales. You won't make me do it. Is that it, he said, kissing her? No, I shall not ask you to tell tales, but I am not going to have you abused by anybody, and she'll take care to find out, from someone else, who it is that annoys you. Oh, Papa, please don't trouble yourself about it. I do not mind it at all now, but I do, replied her father, and I shall take care, that you are not annoyed in the same way again. The tears rose in Elsie's eyes again, and she reproached herself severely for allowing her father to see how troubled she had been. But she said not another word, for she knew well from his look, and his tone, that it would be worse than useless. End of chapter two, recording by Melanie May. Section three of Holidays at Roseland's. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Melanie May. Holidays at Roseland's by Martha Finley. Chapter three, part one. Revenge at first though sweet, fitter ere long, back on itself for coils. Milton's paradise lost. Tis easier for the generous to forgive than for offense to ask it. Thompson's Edmund and Eleonora. The last day of the old year had come. The afternoon was bright and warm for the season, and the little folks at Roseland's were unanimously in favor of a long walk. They set out soon after dinner, all in high good humor, except Arthur, who was moody and silent, occasionally casting an angry glance at Elsie, whom he had not yet forgiven for her refusal to lend him money. But no one seemed to notice it, and for some time, nothing occurred to mar their enjoyment. At length, some of the older ones, seeing that the sun was getting low, called to the others that it was time to return, and all turned their faces homeward, walking more soberly and silently along than at first. For they were beginning to feel somewhat fatigued. They were climbing a steep hill. Elsie and Caroline Howard reached the top first, Arthur and Harry Carrington, but a few steps behind. Elsie stooped to pick up a pebble, and Arthur, darting quickly past her, managed to give her a push, that sent her rolling down the bank. She gave one frightened cry as she fell, and the next instant was lying, pale and motionless at the bottom. All was now terror and confusion among the children. The little ones, who all loved Elsie dearly, began to scream and cry. Harry, Lucy, Carrie, and Mary rushed down the path again as fast as they could, and were soon standing, pale and breathless, beside the still form of their little companion. Carrie was the only one who seemed to have any presence of mind. She sat there on the ground, and lifting Elsie's head, laid it on her lap, untied her bonnet strings, and loosened her dress. Gin, she said to the black boy, who stood blubbering by her side, run quickly for the doctor, and you, Harry Carrington, go for her father as fast as you can. Lucy, crying won't you any good. Haven't some of you a smelling bottle around you? Yes, yes, here, here, quick, quick, oh, Carrie, say she isn't dead! cried Mary Leslie, diving into her pocket, and bringing out a small bottle of smelling salts. Someone had presented her as a Christmas gift. No, she is not dead, Mary. See, she is beginning to open her eyes, replied Carrie, now bursting in the tears herself. But Elsie opened them only for an instant, moaned as if in great pain, and relapsed again into insensibility, so like death that Carrie shuttered, and trembled with fear. They were not more than a quarter of a mile from the house, but it seemed almost an age to anxious Carrie before Mr. Dinsmore came. Although it was, in reality, but a few moments, as Harry ran very fast, and Mr. Dinsmore sprang into the carriage, which was at the door, some of the party having just returned from a drive, the instant he heard the news, calling to Harry to accompany him, and bidding the coachman drive directly to the spot with all speed. The moment they were off, he began questioning the boy closely, as to the cause of the accident. Harry could not tell much about it. She had fallen down the hill, he said, but he did not see what made her fall. Was she much hurt? Mr. Dinsmore asked, his voice trembling a little in spite of himself. Harry did not know, but feared she was pretty badly injured. Was she insensible? Yes, she was when I left, Harry said. Mr. Dinsmore leaned back in the carriage with a groan, and did not speak again. In another moment they had stopped, and flinging open the door, he sprang to the ground, and hurried toward the little group, who were still gathered about Elsie, just as Harry had left them, some looking on with pale, frightened faces, others sobbing aloud. Walter was crying quite bitterly, and even Anna had the traces of tears on her cheek. As for Arthur, he trembled and shattered at the thought that he was perhaps already a murderer, and frightened and full of remorse, shrank behind the others as he saw his brother approach. Elsie still lay with her head in Carrie's lap. Hastily pushing the others aside, Mr. Dinsmore stooped over her, sorrow and intense anxiety, written on every line of his countenance. Again, Elsie opened her eyes, and smiled faintly as she saw him bending over her. My precious one, he murmured in a low, moved tone, as he gently lifted her in his arms. Are you much hurt? Are you in pain? Yes, Papa, she answered feebly. Where, darling? My ankle, Papa, it pains me terribly, but I think I must have hit my head. It hurts me so. How did she come to fall? He asked, looking round at the little group. No one replied. Please, Papa, don't ask. She pleaded in a faint voice. He gave her a loving, pitying look, but paid no other heed to her monstrance. Who was near her? He asked, glancing sternly around the little circle. Arthur, said several voices. Arthur quailed beneath the terrible glance of his brother's eye, as he turned it upon him, exclaiming bitterly. Yes, I understand it all now. I believe you will never be satisfied until you have killed her. Dear Papa, please take me home and don't scold poor Arthur, pleaded Elsie's sweet gentle voice. I am not so very badly hurt, and I am sure he is very sorry for me. Yes, darling, he said, I will take you home and will try to do so without hurting you. And nothing could exceed the tenderness with which he bore her to the carriage, supported her in his arms during the short ride, and on their arrival carried her up to her room and laid her on the sofa. Jim had brought the doctor, and Mr. Dinsmore immediately requested him to make a careful examination of the child's injuries. He did so, and reported a badly sprained ankle and a slight bruise on the head. Nothing more. Are you quite sure, doctor, that her spine has sustained no injury? Asked the father anxiously, adding, There is scarcely anything I should so dread for her as that. None whatever, replied the physician confidently, and Mr. Dinsmore looked greatly relieved. My back does not hurt me at all, Papa. I don't think I struck it, Elsie said, looking up lovingly into his face. How did you happen to fall, my dear? asked the doctor. If you please, sir, I would rather not tell, she replied, while the color rushed over her face, and then instantly faded away again, leaving her deathly pale. She was suffering great pain, but bearing it bravely. The doctor was dressing the injured ankle, and her father sat by the sofa, holding her hand. You need not, darling, he answered, kissing her cheek. Thank you, Papa, she said, gratefully, then whispered. Won't you stay with me till tea time, if you are not busy? Yes, daughter, and all the evening too, perhaps all night. She looked her happiness and thanks, and the doctor praised her patience and fortitude, and having given directions concerning the treatment of the wounded limb, bathed his little patient good night, saying he would call again in the morning. Mr. Dinsmore followed him to the door. That's a sweet child, Mr. Dinsmore, he remarked. I don't know how anyone could have the heart to injure her, but I think there has been foul play somewhere, and if she were mine, I would certainly sift the matter to the bottom. That I shall, you may rest assured, sir. But tell me, doctor, do you think her ankle very seriously injured? Not permanently, I hope. Indeed, I feel quite sure of it, if she is well taken care of and not allowed to use it too soon. But these brains are tedious things, and she will not be able to walk for some weeks. Good night, sir. Don't be too anxious, she will get over it in time. And you may be thankful, it is nothing worse. I am indeed, doctor, Mr. Dinsmore said, warmly grasping the hand the kind-hearted physician held out to him. Everybody was asking what the doctor had said and how much else he was injured, and Mr. Dinsmore stepped into the drawing room a moment to answer their inquiries, and then hastened back to his child again. She looks glad to see him. My poor little pet, he said pityingly, you will have a sad new year's day fastened down to your couch, but you shall have as much of my company as you wish. Shall I, papa? Then you will have to stay by me all day long. And so I will, dearest, he said, leaning fondly over her and stroking back the hair from her forehead. Are you in much pain now, darling? He asked. As he noticed a slight contraction of her brow and an almost deadly pallor around her mouth, yes, papa, a good deal, she answered faintly, and I feel so weak. Please take me in your arms, papa. I want to lay my head against you. He raised her up gently, sat down at the end of the couch where her head had been, lifted her to his knee, and made Chloe place a pillow for the wounded limb to rest upon. There, darling, is that better, he asked soothingly. As she laid her head, we were laid down on his breast, and he folded his arms about her. Yes, papa, but oh, it aches very much, she sighed. My poor little daughter, my poor little pet, he said in deeply compassionate tones. It is so hard to see you suffer. I would gladly take your pain and bear it for you if I could. Oh no, dear papa, I would much rather bear it myself, she answered quickly. The t-bell rang, and Elsie half started up. My still, dearest, her father said, I am in no hurry for my tea, and you shall have yours first, and I will hold you while you eat it. What will you have? You may ask for anything you want. I don't know, papa, whatever you please. Well then, and Chloe, go down and bring up whatever good things are there, and she can take her choice. Bring a cup of hot tea too, I think it might do her good tonight. Thank you, dear papa, you are so kind, Elsie said gratefully. When the character driven off with Mr. Ginsmore and Elsie, the rest of the young party at once turned their steps toward the house, Arthur soaking in the rear, and the others eagerly discussing the accident as they went. Arthur pushed her down, I'm sure he did, said Lucy positively. I believe he hates her life poison, and he has been at her about something the several days past. I know it just by the way I've seen him look at her. Yes, ever since the morning after the Carlton party, and now I remember I heard his voice talking angrily in her room that very morning. I went to get a book I had left there, and when I tried to get the door it was locked, and I went away again directly. But what has that to do with Elsie's fall? asked Mary Leslie. Why, don't you see, it shows there was some trouble between them, and that Arthur had a motive for pushing her down, returned Lucy, somewhat impatiently. Really, Mary, you seem quite stupid sometimes. Mary looked hurt. I don't know how anyone could be so wicked and cruel, especially to such a dear sweet little girl as Elsie, remarks Carrie Howard. No, nor I, said Harry. But the more I think about it, the more certain I feel that Arthur really did push her down, for I remember distinctly where she stood, and it seems to me that she could not possibly have fallen by herself. Besides, it was evident enough that Arthur felt guilty from the way he acted when Mr. Dinsmore came, and when he spoke to him. But perhaps he did not do it quite on purpose. Oh, exclaimed Mary, I do think I should be frightened to death if Mr. Dinsmore should look at me the way he did at Arthur. Looks can't hurt, observed Terry wisely, but I wouldn't be in Arthur's shoes just now for considerable, because I'll venture to say Mr. Dinsmore will do something a good deal worse than look before he is done with him. When they reached the house, Lucy went directly to her mama's room. Herbert, who was more ailing than usual that day, lay on the sofa while his mama lay at his side, reading to him. They had not heard of the accident, and were quite startled by Lucy's excited manner. Oh, mama, she cried, jerking off her bonnet and throwing herself on a stool at her mother's feet. We have had such a dreadful accident, or hardly an accident either, where I feel perfectly certain Arthur did it on purpose, and I just expect he'll kill her someday, the mean wicked boy. And she burst into tears. If I were Mr. Dinsmore, I'd have him put in jail so I would, she sobbed. Lucy, my child, what are you talking about? Asked her mother with a look of mingled surprise and alarm, while Herbert started up asking, is it Elsie? Oh, Lucy, is she much hurt? Yes, sobbed Lucy. We all thought she was dead. It was so long before she spoke, or moved or even opened her eyes. Herbert was crying too now, as barely as his sister. But Lucy, dear, said her mother, wiping her eyes. You haven't told us anything yet. Where did it happen? What did Arthur do, and where is poor little Elsie now? Her papa brought her home, and Jim went for the doctor, and they're doing something with her now in her own room. For Pop said Mr. Dinsmore carried her right up there. Oh, Mama, if you had seen him look at Arthur. But what did Arthur do? Asked Herbert anxiously. He pushed her down that steep hill, that you remember, you were afraid to try to climb the other day? At least we all think he did. But surely he did not do it intentionally, said Mrs. Carrington, for why should he wish to harm such a sweet, gentle little creature as Elsie? Oh, Mama, exclaimed Herbert, suddenly catching hold of her hand, as he grew very pale and almost gasped for breath. What is it, Herbert, dear? What is it? She asked in alarm, for he had fallen back on his pillow, and seemed almost ready to faint. Mama, he said with a shudder. Mama, I believe I know. Oh, why didn't I speak before? And perhaps poor little Elsie might have been saved all this. Why, Herbert, what can you know about it? She asked in extreme surprise. I will tell you, Mama, as well as I can, he said. And then you must tell me what I ought to do. You know, Mama, I went out to walk with the rest the afternoon after that party at Mr. Crawlton's. For if you remember, I had stayed at home the night before and gone to bed very early, and so I felt pretty well and able to walk. But Elsie was not with us. I don't know where she could have been. She always thinks of my lameness and walks slowly when I am along. But this time they all walked so fast that I soon grew very tired indeed with trying to keep up. So I sat down on the log to rest. Well, Mama, I had not been there very long when I heard voices near me. On the other side of some bushes that I supposed must have prevented them from seeing me. One voice was Arthur's, but the other I didn't know. I didn't want to be listening, but I was too tired to move on. So I whistled a little to let them know I was there. They didn't seem to care, though, but went on talking quite loud, so loud that I could not help hearing almost every word, and so I soon learned that Arthur owed Dick Percival a gambling debt, a debt of honor, they called it, and had sent this other boy, whom Arthur called Bob, to try to collect it. He reminded Arthur that he had promised to pay that day and said Dick must have it to pay some debts of his own, Arthur acknowledged that he had promised, expecting to borrow the money from somebody. I didn't hear the name, and it never struck me until this moment who it was, but it must have been Elsie. For I recollect, he said she wouldn't lend him anything without telling Horace all about it, and that, you know, was Mr. Dinsmore's name, and I have found out that Arthur is very much afraid of him, almost more than his father, I think. He talked very angrily, saying he knew that was only an excuse, because she didn't wish to knew him a favor, and he'd pay her for it someday. Then they talked about the debt again, and finally the boy agreed that Dick would wait till New Year's Day, when Arthur said he would receive his monthly allowance, and so would certainly be able to pay it. Now, Mama, concluded Herbert, what are I to do? Do you think that it is my duty to tell Arthur's father? Yes, Herbert, I do, said Mrs. Carrington, because it is very important that he should know of his son's evil courses, that he must put a stop to them, and besides, if Arthur should escape punishment this time, Elsie may be in danger from it again. I am sorry it happened to you rather than to some other person who overheard the conversation, but it cannot be helped, and we must do our duty always. Even though we find it difficult and disagreeable, and feel afraid our motives may be misconstrued. Herbert drew a deep sigh. Well, Mama, must I go just now to tell him? He asked, looking pale and troubled. Mrs. Carrington seemed to be considering that matter for a moment. No, my dear, she said, I think that we had better wait a little. Probably Mr. Dinsmore will make an investigation, and perhaps he may be able to get it the truth without your assistance. If not, as this mischief is already done, it will be time enough for your story tomorrow. Herbert looked a great deal relieved, and just then they were seven to T. The elder Mr. Dinsmore had been out all the afternoon, and not returning until just as the bell rang for T, heard nothing of Elsie's injury until after he had taken his seat at the table. The children had all reported that Arthur had pushed her down, and thus the story was told to his father. The old gentleman was very angry, for he had a great contempt for such cowardly deeds, and said before all the guests that if it were so Arthur should be severely punished. Mr. Horace Dinsmore came down as the rest were about leaving the table. I should like to have a few moments conversation with you, Horace, when you have finished your tea, his father said, lingering behind the others. It is just what I wish, sir, replied his son, I will be with you directly. Shall I find you in the library? Yes, I hope the child was not hurt, Horace, he added, inquiringly, stepping back again just as he had reached the door. Pretty badly I am afraid, said Mr. Dinsmore gravely. She is suffering a good deal. Mr. Dinsmore was not long at the table, for he was anxious to get back to his child, yet his father, whom he found striding back and forth across the library, in a nervous, excited way, hailed him with the impatient exclamation. Come at last, Horace, I thought you would never have done eating. Then throwing himself into a chair. Well, what is to be done about this bad business, he asked? Is it true that Arthur had a hand in it? I have not a doubt of it myself, sir, replied his son. They all agree that he was close to her when she fell, and neither he nor she denies that he pushed her. She only begs not to be forced to speak, and he says nothing. And now, Father, I have fully made up my mind that either that boy must be sent away to school, or I must take Elsie and make a home for her elsewhere. Why, Horace, that is a sudden resolution, is it not? No, Father, not so much as it seems. I have suspected, for some time past, that Elsie had a good deal to bear from Arthur and Anna, to say nothing of an older person to whom Anna is continually carrying tales. Elsie is too generous to tell tales, too meek and patient to complain, and so it has been only very gradually that I have learned how much of petulance, tyranny, and injustice she has had to endure from those from whom she certainly had a right to expect common kindness, if not affection. Yesterday afternoon she came to me, in such a state of nervous excitement as convinced me that something had gone very much amiss with her, but what it was I did not know, for she seemed unwilling to tell, and I would not force her to do so. However, by putting a few questions to some of the little guests, I have since learned enough to fill me with indignation at the treatment to which my child has been subjected, even during the last two weeks. And now the occurrences of this afternoon have put the finishing stroke to all this, and I cannot any longer feel that my child is safe where Arthur is. It is a great mercy that she escaped being killed or crippled for life, and he dropped his face into his hands and shuddered. Don't, Horace, my son, his father said kindly, laying his hand on his shoulder. I don't like to see you give way so. It is not worthwhile troubling ourselves about what might have been, and we will take measures to prevent such occurrences in the future. But you mustn't think of leaving us to set up a separate establishment, unless you are intending to marry again, and I don't believe you are. Mr. Dinsmore shook his head. Nothing of the kind, he said, but I must protect my child. She has no one else to look to for protection or sympathy or love, my poor little one, and it would be hard indeed if she could not have them for me. So it would, Horace, certainly. I am afraid we have none of us treated the poor little thing quite as kindly as we might, but I really was not aware that she had been so much abused, and shall certainly speak to Mrs. Dinsmore about it. And Arthur shall be sent away to school, as you have suggested. It is what I have been wanting to do for some time, for he is getting quite beyond Miss Day, but his mother has always opposed it, and I have foolishly given up to her for peace's sake. I set my foot down now, however, and he shall go. He deserves it richly, the young rascal. Such a base cowardly act as to attack a little girl, big, strong boy that he is. I'm ashamed of him. You, Horace, were a wild, headstrong fellow, but I never knew you do a mean or cowardly thing. You were always above it. I hope so, indeed, sir. But now, to go back to the present business, do you not think it would be well to call all the young people together and have a thorough investigation of this affair? I have promised Elsie that she shall not be forced to speak, but I hope we may be able to learn from the others all that we need to know. Yes, yes, Horace, we will do so at once, replied his father, ringing the bell. They must be all through with their tea by this time, and we will invite them into the drawing-room and cross-question them until we get to the bottom of the whole thing. A servant answered the bell and received directions to request, on his master's behalf, all the guests, both old and young, as well as every member of the family, to give their attendance in the drawing-room for a few moments. Stay, Father, said Horace. Possibly Arthur might be induced to confess, and so spare himself and us the pain of a public exposure had we not better send for him first. His father assented, and the servant was ordered to go in search of Arthur and bring him to the library. Arthur had been expecting such a summons, and had quite made up his mind what to do. Confess, he said to himself, no indeed all not, nobody but Elsie knows that I did it, and she'll never tell, so I'll stick to it that it was only an accident. He came in with a look of sullen dogged determination on his countenance, and stood before his father and brother with folded arms and an air of injured innocence. He was careful, however, not to meet his brother's eye. Arthur began his father sternly. This is shameful cowardly behavior, utterly unworthy of a son of mine, this unprovoked assault upon a defenseless little girl. It has always been considered a cowardly act to attack one weaker than ourselves. I didn't do it! She slipped and fell of herself, replied the boy fiercely, speaking through his clenched teeth. Arthur, said his brother in a calm, firm tone, the alternative before you is a frank and full confession here in private, or a disgraceful public exposure in the drawing-room. You had better confess, for I have not the least doubt of your guilt, because I well know that Elsie would have asserted your innocence had she been able to do so with truth. She wouldn't! She hates me, muttered the boy. Yes, and I hate her too, he added, almost under his breath, but his brother's quick ear caught the words. Yes, he answered bitterly, you have given full proof of that, but never while I live shall you have another opportunity to wreak your hellish rage upon her. But threats and persuasions were alike powerless to move Arthur's stubborn will, for trusting to their supposed inability to prove his guilt he persisted in denying it, and at length, much against his inclination, was forced to accompany his father and brother to the drawing-room where the entire household was already assembled. There was a good deal of excitement and whispering together, especially amongst the younger portion of the assembly, and many conjectures as to the cause of their being thus called together, nearly all giving it as their decided opinion that Elsie's accident had something to do with it. Herbert was looking pale and nervous, and kept very close to his mama. Harry Carrington and Kerry Howard were grave and thoughtful, while Lucy and Mary seemed restless and excited, and the lesser ones full of curiosity and expectation. There was quite a little buzz all over the room as the two gentlemen and Arthur entered, but it died away instantly, and was succeeded by an almost death-like stillness, broken the next moment by the elder Mr. Dinsmore's voice, as he briefly stated his object in thus calling them together, and earnestly requested any one present who could throw the least light on the subject to speak. He paused, and there was a moment of profound silence. Who was nearest to Elsie when she fell, he asked. Can anyone tell me? Arthur, sir, replied several voices. Another pause. Who else was near her? he asked. Miss Kerry Howard, I have noticed that you and Elsie are usually together. Can you tell me if she could have fallen of herself? Were you near enough to see? Kerry answered reluctantly. Yes, sir. I had stepped from her side at the moment she stooped to pick up something, and feel quite certain that she was not near enough to the edge to have fallen of herself. Thank you for your frank reply. And now, Master Harry Carrington, I think I heard someone say you were quite close to Arthur at the time of Elsie's fall. Can you tell me what he did to her? You will confer a great favour by answering with equal frankness. I would much rather have been excused from saying anything, sir, replied Harry, colouring and looking as if he wished himself a thousand miles away. But since you request it, I will own that I was close to Arthur and think he must have pushed Elsie in springing past her, but it may have been only an accident. I fear not, said the old gentleman, looking sternly at his son. And now, does anyone know that Elsie had vexed Arthur in any way, or that he had any unkind feelings toward her? Yes, Papa! Walter spoke up suddenly. I heard Arthur the other day talking very crossly about Elsie and threatening to pay her for something, but I didn't understand what. Mr. Dinsmore's frown was growing darker, and Arthur began to tremble and turn pale. He darted a fierce glance at Walter, but the little fellow did not see it. Does anyone know what Elsie had done, was the next question? No one spoke, and Herbert fidgeted and grew very pale. Mr. Horace Dinsmore noticed it, and begged him if he knew anything to tell it at once. And Herbert reluctantly repeated what he had already told his mother of the conversation in the woods. And as he concluded, Laura drew a note from her pocket, which she handed to her father, saying that she had picked it up in the schoolroom, from a pile of rubbish which Arthur had carelessly thrown out of his desk. Mr. Dinsmore took it, glanced hastily over the contents, and with a groan exclaimed, Is it possible, a gambler already? Arthur, has it really come to this? Go to your room, sir, he added sternly, there to remain in solitary confinement until arrangement can be made to send you to school at a distance from the home, which shall be no longer polluted by your presence, for you are unworthy to mingle with the rest of the family. Arthur obeyed in sullen silence, and his father, following, turned the key upon him, and left him to solitude and his own reflections. Did my little daughter think Papa had quite forgotten his promise? asked Mr. Horace Dinsmore, as again he stood by Elsie's couch. No, Papa, she said, raising her eyes to his face with a grateful, loving look. It seemed very long, but I knew you would come as soon as you could, for I know you never break your word. Her confidence pleased him very much, and with a very gratified look he asked whether he should sit by her side or take her again upon his knee. Take me on your knee again if you please, Papa, she said, and then will you read a little to me? I would like it so much. I will do anything that will give my little girl pleasure, he replied, as he once more lifted her gently and placed her in the desired position. What shall the book be, he asked, one of the new ones I bought you the other day? Not that tonight, if you please, Papa, I would rather hear a little from an old book, she answered. With a sweet smile lighting up her little pale face, won't you please read me the fifty-third chapter of Isaiah? If you wish it, dearest, but I think something lively would be much better, more likely to cheer you up. No, dear Papa, there is nothing cheers me up like the Bible, it is so sweet and comforting. I do so love to hear of Jesus, how he bore our griefs and carried our sorrows. You are a strange child, he said, but you shall have whatever you want tonight. Hand me that Bible, Aunt Chloe, and set the light a little nearer. Mr. Dinsmore was an uncommonly fine reader, and Elsie lay listening to that beautiful passage of holy writ, as one might listen to strains of the softest, sweetest music. Now, dear Papa, the twenty-third of Luke, if you please, she said when he had finished. He turned to it, and read it without any remark. As he closed the book and laid it aside, he saw that tears were trembling on the long, silken lashes that rested on the fair young cheek, for her eyes were closed, and but for those tell-tale drops he would have thought her sleeping. I feared it would make you sad, darling, he said, brushing them away and kissing her fondly. No, dear Papa, oh no, she answered earnestly. Thank you very much for reading it. It has made me feel a great deal better. Why did you select those particular passages, he asked, with some curiosity? Because, Papa, they are all about Jesus, and tell how meekly and patiently he bore sorrow and suffering. Oh, Papa, if I could only be like him, I am not much like him, but it makes it easier to forgive and to be patient and kind and gentle when we read about him, how good he was and how he forgave his murderers. You are thinking of Arthur, he said. I shall find it very hard to forgive him. Can you do so? Yes, Papa, I think I can. I have been praying for him, and have asked God to help me forgive and love him. He has treated you very badly. I know all about it now. And then, in answer to her surprised, inquiring look, he proceeded to give her an account of all that had taken place that evening in the library and drawing room. And he hates me, Papa, she said mournfully, the tears filling her eyes. Why should he feel so? I have always tried to be kind to him. Yes, I know it, he replied. You have often done him kindnesses, and I know of no other cause for his enmity, unless it is that you have sometimes been obliged to bear witness against him. Yes, Papa, on several occasions when he was putting all the blame of his naughty deeds on little Walter or poor Jim. You were perfectly right, he said, caressing her, and he will not have another opportunity to vent his spite upon you, as he is to be sent away to boarding school immediately. Oh, Papa, she exclaimed. I am so sorry for him, poor fellow. It must be so dismal to go off alone among strangers. Dear Papa, do ask Grandpa to forgive him just this once, and I don't believe he will ever behave so again. No, daughter, I shall not do anything of the kind, he answered decidedly. I think it will be for Arthur's own good to be sent away, where he will not have his mother to spoil him by indulgence. And besides, I cannot feel that you are safe, while he is about the house, and I consider it my first duty to take care of you. Therefore I have insisted upon it that either he must be sent away, or you and I must go and make a home for ourselves somewhere else. Oh, Papa, how delightful that would be to have a home of our own, she exclaimed eagerly. Will you do it some day? Should you like it so much? he asked. Oh, yes, Papa, so very, very much. When will you do it, Papa? I don't know, darling, some day, if we both live, perhaps when you are old enough to be my housekeeper. But that will be such a long, long time to wait, Papa, she said, the eager, joyous expression fading away from her face, and the pale, wearied look coming back again. Perhaps we will not wait for that, darling. I did not say that we would, he replied in a soothing tone, as he passed his hand caressingly over her hair and cheek. Then he added a little mischievously, I think possibly I might induce Miss Stevens to keep house for us. Shall I ask her? Oh, Papa, no, that would spoil it all, she said, with a blush and a look of surprise. And besides, I'm sure Miss Stevens would feel insulted if anybody should ask her to go out as housekeeper. No, I think not, if I asked her, laughed Mr. Dinsmore, but you need not be alarmed, I have no notion of doing it. Now, daughter, I shall bathe your ankle with that liniment again, and put you in bed, and you must try to go to sleep. My prayers first, Papa, you know, she replied, making an effort to get down upon the floor. But he held her fast. No, daughter, you are not able to kneel tonight, he said, and therefore it is not required. The posture makes but little difference, since God looks not at it, but at your heart. I know that, Papa, but I opt to kneel if I can. And if I may, I would much rather try. No, I shall not allow you to do so, it would not be right, he replied decidedly. You may say them here while I have you in my arms, or after I have put you in bed. Then I will say them in my bed, Papa, she answered submissively. She was very patient and quiet while her father and nurse dressed her ankle, and prepared her for bed, and when he had laid her in and covered her up, he sat down beside her and listened to the low murmured words of her prayer. I think you prayed for me as well as for Arthur, he remarked when she had done. What did you request for me? I asked, as I always do, that you might love Jesus, Papa, and be very happy indeed, both in this world and the next. Thank you, he said, but why are you so anxious that I should love him? It would not trouble me if you did not, so long as you loved and obeyed me. A tear trickled down her cheek and fell upon the pillow, as she answered in a half-tremulous tone. Because I know, Papa, that no one can go to heaven who does not love Jesus, nor ever be really happy anywhere, for the Bible says so. Papa, you always punish me when I am disobedient to you, and the Bible says, God is our Father and will punish us if we do not obey him, and one of his commands is, Thou shalt love the Lord thy God, and in another place it says, Everyone that loveth him that begat, loveth him also that is begotten of him. He did not reply, and his countenance was almost stern in its deep gravity. Elsie feared she had displeased him. Dear Papa, she said, stretching out her little hand to him, I am afraid I have said things to you that I ought not. Are you angry with me? No, daughter, he replied, as he bent down and kissed her cheek, but you must not talk any more to-night. I want you to shut your eyes and go to sleep. She threw her arm around his neck and returned his caress, saying, Good night, dear, dear Papa, I do love you so much. Then turned away her face, shut her eyes, and in a few moments was sleeping sweetly. The next morning quite a number of the little folks begged leave to go in after breakfast to see Elsie, and as she seemed much better, indeed quite well, except that she could not put her foot to the floor, Mr. Dinsmore gave a ready consent. They found Elsie dressed and lying upon a sofa with the lame foot on a pillow. She seemed very glad to see them, looked as smiling and cheerful as if nothing ailed her, and to all their condolences replied that she did not mind it very much. She was doing nicely, Papa and everybody else was so kind, and the doctor said he hoped she would be able to run about again in a few weeks. They were all around her, talking and laughing in a very animated way, when Mr. Dinsmore came in, and going up to her couch said, Elsie, daughter, I have an errand to the city this morning, but as I have promised to give you all you want of my company today, I will commission someone else to do it, if you are not willing to spare me for a couple of hours. Do you think you could do without your Papa that long? It shall be just as you say. You know I love dearly to have you by me, Papa, she answered, smiling up into his face, but I will be quite satisfied with whatever you do because you always know best. Spoken like my own little girl, he said, patting her cheek. Well, then I will leave these little folks to entertain you for a short time, and I think you will not be sorry when I return that you left it to me to do as I think best. Kiss Papa good-bye, darling, and Chloe take good care of her, and don't let her be fatigued with company. He turned to look at her again as he reached the door, and Elsie gaily kissed her hand to him. Before long, Chloe, seeing that her young charge was beginning to look weary, sent away all the little folks except Herbert, who at Elsie's request remained with her, and seated in her little rocking chair close by her side, did his best to amuse her and make her forget her pain, sometimes reading aloud to her and sometimes stopping to talk. Many an hour Elsie had spent by his couch of suffering, reading, talking, or singing to him, and he rejoiced now in the opportunity afforded him to return some of her past kindness. They had always been fond of each other's society, too, and the time passed so quickly and pleasantly that Mr. Dinsmore's return, only a very little sooner than he had promised, took them quite by surprise. Herbert noticed that he had a bundle in his hand, and thinking it was probably some present for Elsie and that they might like to be alone, slipped quietly away to his mama's room. What is that, Papa? Elsie asked. A New Year's gift for my little girl, he answered with a smile as he laid it down by her side, but I know you are tired lying there, so I will take you on my knee, and then you shall open it. She looked quite as eager and interested as he could have wished, as he settled her comfortably on his knee and laid the bundle in her lap. Her hands trembled with excitement and haste as she untied the string, and with an exclamation of joyful surprise brought to light a large and very beautiful wax doll. Oh, Papa, how pretty, she cried in ecstasy, and it is as large as a real, live baby, and has such a sweet dear little face and such pretty little hands just like a real baby's, and the dearest little toes, too, she added, kissing them. I love it already, the little dear, and how prettily it is dressed, too, like a little baby girl. He enjoyed her pleasure intensely. But you have not come to the bottom of your bundle yet, he said. See here! And he showed her quite a pile of remnants of beautiful lawns, muslins, silk, etc., which he had bought to be made up into clothing for the doll. I did not buy them ready-made, he said, because I thought you would enjoy making them yourself. Oh, how nice, Papa! Yes, indeed, I shall enjoy it, and you are so very good and kind to me, she said, holding up her face for a kiss. Now, with you beside me, and plenty to do, making pretty things for this dear new dolly, I think I shall hardly mind at all having to stay in the house and keep still. I'll call her Rose-Papa Mayantai for dear Miss Allison. Call it what you like, darling, it is all your own, he replied, laughing at the question. I'm its mother, ain't I, and then you must be its grandfather, she exclaimed, with a merry laugh in which she joined her heartily. You ought to have some gray hairs, Papa, like other grandfathers, she went on, running her fingers through his hair. Do you know, Papa, Carrie Howard says she thinks it is so funny for me to have such a young father. She says you don't look a bit older than her brother, Edward, who has just come home from college. How old are you, Papa? You are not quite nine, and I am just about eighteen years older. Can you make that out now? Twenty-seven, she answered, after a moment's thought, then shaking her head a little. That's pretty old, I think, after all, but I'm glad you haven't got gray hairs and wrinkles like Carrie's, Papa, she added, putting her arms around his neck and laying her head down on his breast. I think it is nice to have such a young, handsome father. I think it is very nice to have a dear little daughter to love me, he said, pressing her to his heart. Elsie was eager to show her new doll to Carrie and Lucy, and presently sent Chloe to invite them to pay her another visit. Bring Mary Leslie too, Mammy, if she will come, but be sure not to tell any of them what I have got, she said. Chloe found them all three in the little back parlor, looking as if they did not know what to do with themselves, and Elsie's invitation was hailed with smiles and exclamations of delight. They all admired the doll extremely, and Carrie, who had a great taste for cutting and fitting, seized upon the pile of silks and muslins, exclaiming eagerly that she should like no better fun than to help Elsie make some dresses. Oh yes, cried Lucy, let us all help, for once in my life I'm tired to death of play, and I'd like to sit down quietly and work at these pretty things. I too, said Mary, if Elsie is willing to trust us not to spoil them. Indeed, I'll not spoil them, Miss Mary. I've made more dolls closed than a few, remarked Carrie with a little toss of her head. I am not at all afraid to trust you, Carrie, nor the others either, Elsie hastened to say, and shall be very glad of your assistance. Work boxes were now quickly produced, and scissors and thimbles set in motion. Mr. Dinsmore withdrew to the other side of the room and took up a book, thus relieving the little ladies from the constraint of his presence, while at the same time he could keep an eye upon Elsie, and see that she did not over-fatigue herself with company or work. What a nice time we have had, remarked Mary Leslie, folding up her work as the dinner bell rang. May we come back this afternoon, Elsie? I'd like to finish this apron, and I'm to go home to-morrow. Mr. Dinsmore answered for his little girl. When Elsie has had an hour to rest, Miss Mary, she will be glad to see you all again. Yes, do come, girls, Elsie added. If you are not tired of work, I am sorry that you must go to-morrow, Mary. Carrie and Lucy, you are not to leave us so soon, are you? No, they both replied. We stay till Saturday afternoon, and intend to make dolly two or three dresses before we go, if her mother will let us, Carrie added, laughingly, as she put away her thimble and ran after the others. All the guests left the next morning, except the Carrington's and Caroline Howard, and the house seemed very quiet, even in Elsie's room where the little girls were sowing. While Harry and Herbert took turns in reading aloud, and in this way they passed the remainder of their visit very pleasantly indeed, Elsie felt her confinement more when Sabbath morning came, and she could not go to church, than she had it all before. Her father offered to stay at home with her, remarking that she must feel very lonely now that all her little mates were gone, but she begged him to go to church, saying that she could employ herself in reading while he was away, and that would keep her from being lonely, and then they could have all the afternoon and evening together, so he kissed her good-bye and left her in Chloe's care. She was sitting on his knee that evening, she had been singing hymns, he accompanying her sweet treble with his deep bass notes, and then for a while she had talked to him in her own simple childlike way, of what she had been reading in her Bible and the pilgrim's progress, asking him a question now and then, which with all his learning and worldly wisdom he was scarcely as capable of answering as herself. But now she had been for some minutes sitting perfectly silent, her head resting upon his breast, and her eyes cast down as if in deep thought. He had been studying with some curiosity the expression of the little face, which was much graver than its want, and at length he startled her from her reverie with the question, What is my little girl thinking about? I was thinking, Papa, that if you will let me, I should like very much to give Arthur a nice present before he goes away. May I? You may, if you wish, she said, stroking her hair. Oh, thank you, Papa, she answered joyously. I was half afraid you would not let me. Then, if you please, won't you, the next time you go to the city, buy the very handsomest pocket Bible you can find, and then if you will write his name and mine in it, and that it is a token of affection from me, I will be so much obliged to you, dear Papa. I will do so, daughter, but I am afraid Arthur will not feel much gratitude to you for such a present. Perhaps he may like it pretty well, Papa, if it is very handsomely bound, she said, rather doubtfully, at any rate I should like to try. When does he go, Papa? Day after tomorrow, I believe. I wish you would come in for a few minutes to see me and say good-bye. Do you think he will, Papa? I am afraid not, replied her father, shaking his head. However, I will ask him. But why do you wish to see him? I want to tell him that I am not at all vexed or angry with him, and that I feel very sorry for him, because he is obliged to go away all alone amongst strangers, poor fellow, she sighed. You need not waste any sympathy on him, my dear, said her father, for I think he rather likes the idea of going off to school. Does he, Papa? Why, how strange, exclaimed the little girl, lost in astonishment. As Mr. Dinsmore had predicted, Arthur utterly refused to go near Elsie, and at first seemed disposed to decline her gift. But at length, on Laura suggesting that he might require a Bible for some of his school exercises, he accepted it, as Elsie had thought he might, on account of the handsome binding. Elsie was hurt and disappointed that he would not come to see her. She shed a few quiet tears over his refusal, because she thought it showed that he still disliked her, and then wrote him a little note, breathing forgiveness, sisterly affection, and regard for his welfare. But the note was not answered, and Arthur went away without showing any signs of sorrow for his unkind treatment of her, nor indeed for any of his bad conduct. Miss Day had returned, and the rest of her pupils now resumed their studies. But Elsie was, of course, quite unable to attend in the school room, as her ankle was not yet in a condition to be used in the least. Her father said nothing to her about lessons, but allowed her to amuse herself as she liked with reading or working for the doll. She, however, was growing weary of play, and wanted to go back to her books. Papa, she said to him one morning, I am quite well now, accepting my lameness, and you are with me a great deal every day. May I not learn my lessons and recite them to you? Certainly, daughter, if you wish it, he replied, looking much pleased, I shall consider it no trouble, but on the contrary a very great pleasure to teach you, if you learn your lessons well, as I am sure you will. Elsie promised to be diligent, and from that day she went on with her studies as regularly as if she had been in school with the others. She felt her confinement very much at times, and had a great longing for the time when she could again mount her pony, and take long rides and walks in the sweet fresh air. But she was not often lonely, for her papa managed to be with her a great deal, and she never cared for any other companion when he was by. Then Mr. Trevilla came in frequently to see her, and always brought a beautiful bouquet, or some fine fruit from his hot house, or some other little nicety to tempt an invalid's appetite, or what she liked even better still, a new book. Her aunts Adelaide and Laura too felt very kindly toward her, coming in occasionally to ask how she was, and to tell her what was going on in the house, and sometimes Walter brought his book to ask her to help him with his lessons, which she was always ready to do. And then he would sit and talk a while, telling her what had occurred in the schoolroom, or in their walks or rides, and expressing his regret on account of the accident that prevented her from joining them as usual. Her doll too was a great source of amusement to her, and she valued it very highly, and was so extremely careful of it that she hardly felt willing to trust it out of her own hands, lest it should be broken. Especially was she annoyed when Anna, who was a very careless child, wished to take it, but it was a dangerous thing to refuse Anna's requests, except when Mr. Dinsmore was by, and so Elsie always endeavored to get the doll out of sight when she heard her coming. But one unfortunate afternoon Anna came in quite unexpectedly, just as Elsie finished dressing it in a new suit, which she had completed only a few moments before. Oh, Elsie, how pretty it looks, she cried. Do let me take it on my lap a little while, I won't hurt it a bit. Elsie reluctantly consented, begging her to be very careful, because, Anna, she said, you know if you should let it fall it would certainly be broken. You needn't be afraid, replied Anna pettishly. I guess I can take care of a doll as well as you. She drew up Elsie's little rocking chair as she spoke, and taking the doll from her, sat down with it in her arms. Elsie watched nervously every movement she made in momentary dread of a catastrophe. They were alone in the room, Chloe having gone down to the kitchen on some errand. For a few moments Anna was content to hold the doll quietly in her arms, rocking backwards and forwards, singing to it. But airlong she laid it down on her lap, and began fastening and unfastening its clothes, pulling off its shoes and stockings to look at its feet, dropping them on the floor and stooping to pick them up again, at the same time holding the doll in such a careless manner that Elsie expected every instant to see it scattered in fragments on the floor. In vain she remonstrated with Anna, and begged her to be more careful. It only vexed her and made her more reckless, and at length Elsie sprang from her couch and caught the doll just in time to save it, but in so doing gave her ankle a terrible wrench. She almost fainted with the pain, and Anna, frightened at her pale face, jumped up and ran out of the room leaving her alone. She had hardly strength to get back onto her couch, and when her father came in a moment after, he found her holding her ankle in both hands, while the tears forced from her by the pain were streaming down over her pale cheeks. Why, my poor darling, what is it, he exclaimed, in a tone of mingled surprise and alarm? Oh, Papa, she sobbed, Anna was going to let my doll fall, and I jumped to catch it and hurt my ankle. And what did you do it for, he said angrily. I would rather have bought you a dozen such dolls than have had your ankle hurt again. It may cripple you for life yet if you are not more careful. Oh, Papa, please don't scold me, please don't be so angry with me, she sobbed. I didn't have a minute to think, and I won't do it again. He made no reply, but busied himself in doing what he could to relieve her pain, and Chloe coming in at that moment he reproved her sharply for leaving the child alone. The old nurse took it very meekly, far more disturbed at seeing how her child was suffering than she could have been by the severest rebuke administered to herself. She silently assisted Mr. Dinsmore in his efforts to relieve her, and at length, as Elsie's tears ceased to flow, and the colour began to come back to her cheeks, she asked in a tone full of loving sympathy, Is you better now, darling? Yes, Mammy, thank you, the pain is nearly all gone now, Elsie answered gently, and then the soft eyes were raised pleadingly to her father's face. I'm not angry with you, daughter, he replied, drawing her head down to his breast and kissing her tenderly. It was only my great love for my little girl that made me feel so vexed that she should have been hurt in trying to save a paltry toy. After this Mr. Dinsmore gave orders that Enna should never be permitted to enter Elsie's room in his absence, and thus she was saved all further annoyance of that kind, and Chloe was careful never to leave her alone again until she was quite well and able to run about. That, however, was not for several weeks longer, for this second injury had retarded her recovery a good deal, and she began to grow very weary indeed of her long confinement. At length, though, she was able to walk about her room a little, and her father had several times taken her out in the carriage to get the fresh air, as he said. It was Saturday afternoon. Elsie was sitting on her sofa, quietly working, while her nurse sat on the other side of the room, knitting busily as usual. Oh, Mammy! exclaimed the little girl with a sigh. It is such a long, long time since I have been to church. How I wish Papa would let me go to-morrow. Do you think he would, if I should ask him? Don't know, darling. I's afraid not, replied the old woman, shaking her head doubtfully. Massahorus, very careful of you, and that ankle not well yet. Oh, but Mammy, I wouldn't need to walk, accepting just across the church, for you know Papa could carry me down to the carriage, said the little girl eagerly. Mr. Dinsmore came in soon afterwards, and, greeting his little girl affectionately, sat down beside her, and taking a newspaper from his pocket began to read. Papa, may and I sit on your knee, she asked softly, as he paused in his reading to turn his paper. He smiled, and without speaking lifted her to the desired position, then went on reading. She waited patiently until there was another slight pause. Then asked in her most coaxing tone, Papa, may I go to church to-morrow? No, he said decidedly, and she dared not say another word, but she was sadly disappointed, and the tears sprang to her eyes, and presently one rolled down and fell upon her lap. He saw it, and giving her a glance of mingled surprise and displeasure, put her back upon the sofa again, and returned to his paper. She burst into sobs and tears at that, and laying her head down upon the cushion, cried bitterly. Her father took no notice for a little while, then said very gravely, Elsie, if you are crying because I have put you off my knee, that is not the way to get back again. I must have cheerful submission from my little girl, and it was precisely because you were crying that I put you down. Please take me again, Papa, and I won't cry anymore, she answered, wiping her eyes. He took her in his arms again, and she nestled close to him, and laid her head down on his breast with a sigh of satisfaction. You must learn not to cry when I do not see fit to acquiesce in your wishes, my daughter, he said, stroking her hair. I do not think you quite well enough yet to go to church. And tomorrow bids fair to be a stormy day. But I hope by next sabbath you may be able to go. Elsie tried to submit cheerfully to her father's decision, but she looked forward very anxiously all the week to the next sabbath. When it came to her great delight she was permitted to attend church, and the next morning she took her place in the schoolroom again. She was far from enjoying the change from her father's instruction to Miss Daze. Yet Arthur's absence rendered her situation far more comfortable than it had formerly been, and she still continued several studies with her father, and spent many happy hours with him every day, and thus everything moved on quite smoothly with the little girl during the remainder of the winter. End of Section 5