Chapter 4 Part 2 of Elsie Dinsmore. The two little girls were seated together at the table, Elsie's papa being on her other side. How nice these muffins are, don't you like them, Elsie?" asked Lucy, as she helped herself to a third or fourth. Yes, very much, said Elsie cheerfully. Then what are you eating that cold bread for, and you haven't got any butter, either? Poppy, why don't you hand this Elsie the butter? No, Lucy, I mustn't have it. Papa does not allow me to eat hot cakes or butter, said Elsie, in the same cheerful tone in which she had spoken before. Lucy opened her eyes very wide and drew in a breath. Well, she exclaimed, if my papa should try that on me, I'd make such a fuss he'd have to let me eat just whatever I wanted. Elsie knows better than to do that, said Mr. Dinsmore, who had overheard the conversation. She would only get sent away from the table and punished for her naughtiness. I wouldn't do it anyhow, papa, said Elsie, raising her eyes beseechingly to his face. No doubt her, I don't believe you would, he replied, in an unusually kind tone. Elsie's face flushed with pleasure. Several days passed away very pleasantly, Lucy sharing Elsie's studies in the morning while Herbert remained with his mama, and then in the afternoon all went walking or riding out together, unless the weather was too warm, when they spent the afternoon playing in the veranda on the shady side of the house and took their ride or walk after the sun was down. Arthur and Walter paid little attention to Herbert, as his lameness presented him from sharing in the activity sports, which they referred, for they had never been taught to yield their wishes to others and were consequently extremely selfish and overbearing. But Elsie was very kind and did all in her power to interest and amuse him. One afternoon they all walked out together, attended by Jim, but Arthur and Walter, unwilling to accommodate their pace to Herbert's slow movements, were soon far in advance, Jim following close with their heels. They're quite out of sight, said Herbert presently, and I'm very tired. Let's sit down on this bank, girls. I want to try my new bow, and you may run and pick that my arrow's up for me. Thank you, sir, said Lucy, laughingly. Elsie may do it if she likes, but as for me, I mean to take a nap. This nice, soft grass will make an elegant couch, and throwing herself down, she soon was, or pretended to be, in a sound slumber, while Herbert, seating himself with his backing into the tree, amused himself with shooting his arrows here and there, Elsie running for them and bringing them to him until she was quite heated and out of breath. Now I must rest a little, Herbert, she said at length, sitting down beside him.   Elsie's story lasted about ten minutes, and when she had finished, Herbert took up his bow again, saying, I guess you're rested now, Elsie, and sent an arrow over into the meadow. There, just see how far I sent that. Do run and bring it to me, Elsie, he cried, and let me see if I can hit the tree next time, I've just butt-missed. I'm tired, Herbert, but I'll run and bring it to you this once, replied Elsie, forgetting entirely her father's prohibition. But then you must try and wait till Jim comes back before he shoot any more. So saying, she darted away and came back in a moment, with the arrow in her hand, but a sudden recollection had come over her, just as she left the meadow, and throwing down the arrow at the boy's feet she exclaimed in an agitated tone, Oh Herbert, I must go home just as quickly as I can.  What's the matter? asked Herbert in alarm. Never mind, said Elsie sobbing. There, the boy's coming, Elsie, care of you, I must go home, goodbye. As she ran quickly at the road, Herbert followed her retreating form with wandering eyes. Elsie sped onward, crying bitterly as she went. Where's Papa? she inquired of a servant, who she met in the avenue. Don't know, Miss Elsie, but I reckon Master Horace is in the house, he has his horse in the stable. Elsie hardly waited for the answer, but hurrying into the house, she went from room to room, looking and asking in vain for her father. He was not in the drawing room, or the library, or his own apartments. She had just come out of this, and meeting a chamber, made in the hall, she exclaimed, Oh Fanny, where's Papa? Can't you tell me, for I must see him. Here I am, Elsie, what do you want with me? Caught at her father's voice from the veranda, was she neglected to look? What do you want?  Elsie moved slowly toward him, with the tinted air and downcast eyes. I wanted to tell you something, Papa, she said in a low, tremulous tone. Well, I'm listening, said he, taking hold of her hand, and drawing her to his side. What is it?  No, Papa, not either, but- oh Papa, I've been a very naughty girl, she exclaimed, bursting into tears and sobbing violently. I just obeyed you, Papa, I've been in the meadow. Is it possible? Would you dare do so, when I so positively forbade it, only the other day? Said he in his sternest tone, while a dark frown gathered of his brow. Elsie, I shall have to punish you. I did not intend to disobey you, Papa, she sobbed. I quite forgot that you'd forbidden me to go there. That is no excuse, no excuse at all, said he severely. You must remember my commands, and if your memory is so poor, I shall find means to strengthen it. He paused a moment still looking sternly at the little trembling, sobbing girl at his side, then asked, What were you doing in the meadow? Tell me the whole story that I may understand as how severely ought to punish you. Elsie gave him all the particles, and when upon questioning her closely he perceived how entire voluntary her confession had been, his tone and manner became less stern, and he said quite mildly, Well, Elsie, I should not be very severe with you, this time, as you seem to be very penanted and have made so full in frank a confession, but beware how you disobey me again, for you will not escape so easily another time, and remember I will not take forgetfulness as any excuse. Go now to Aunt Chloe and tell her that she is to put you to bed immediately. It's only in the middle of the afternoon, Papa, said Elsie, depreciatingly. If it were much earlier, Elsie, it would make no difference. You must go at once to your bed and stay there until tomorrow morning. What will Lucy and Herbert think when they come in and can't find me, Papa? She said, weeping afresh. You should have thought of that before you disobeyed me, answered very gravely. If you are hungry, he added, you may ask Chloe to get you a slice of bread or a cracker for your supper, but you can have nothing else. Elsie lingered, looking timidly up into his face, and thought wanting to say something but afraid to venture. Speak, Elsie, if you have something more to say, he said, encouragingly. Dear Papa, I am so sorry I have been so naughty, she murmured, leaning her head against the arm of his chair, while the tears rolled fast down her cheeks. Won't you please forgive me, Papa? It seems to me I can't go to sleep tonight if you're angry with me. He seemed quite touched by her penitence. Yes, Elsie, he said, I do forgive you. I'm not at all angry with you now, and you may go to sleep in peace. Good night, my little daughter, and he bent down and pressed his lips against her brow. Elsie held up her face for another, and he kissed her on the lips. Good night, dear Papa, she said. I have felt she'll never be a naughty girl again, and she went to her room, made almost happy by that kiss of forgiveness. Elsie was up quite early the next morning, and had learned all of her lessons before breakfast. As she came down the stairs, she saw through the open door her Papa standing with some of the men's servants, apparently gazing at some object laying on the ground. She ran out and stood on the steps of the portico, looking at them and wondering what they were doing. Presently her father turned around and seeing her, held out his hand calling, come here, Elsie. She spun quickly down the steps, and, running to him, put her hand in his, saying, good morning, Papa. Good morning, daughter, he said. I have something to show you. And, leading her forward a few paces, he pointed to a large rattlesnake lying there. Oh, Papa, she cried, starting back and clinging to him. It will not hurt you now, he said. It's dead. The men killed it this morning in the meadow. Do you see why now, why I forbid you to go there? Oh, Papa, she murmured in low tone, of deep feeling, and laying her cheek affectionately against his head. I might have lost my life by my disobedience. How good God was to take care of me. Oh, I hope I shall never be so naughty again. I hope not, said he grayly, but not unkindly. And I hope that you'll always, after this, believe that your father has some good reason for his commands, even though he might not always choose to explain it to you. Yes, Papa, I think I will, she answered humbly. The breakfast bell had rung, and he now led her in and seated her at the table. Lucy Carrington looked curiously at her, and soon took an opportunity to whisper, Where were you last night, Elsie? I couldn't find you, and your Papa wouldn't say would become of you, though I'm quite sure he knew. I'll tell you after breakfast, replied Elsie, blushing deeply. Lucy waited rather impatiently until all had risen from the table, and then, putting her arm around Elsie's waist, he drew her out on the veranda, saying, Now, Elsie, tell me. You know you promised. I was in bed, replied Elsie, dropping her eyes, while the color mounted to her very hair. In bed, before five o'clock, exclaimed Lucy in a tone of astonishment. Why, what was that for? Papa sent me, replied Elsie with an effort. I had been naughty, and disobeyed him.  Papa had forbidden me to go into the meadow. I forgot all about it, and ran in there to get Herbert's arrow for him, replied Elsie, looking very much ashamed. Was that all? Why, my Papa wouldn't have punished me for that, said Lucy. He might have scolded me a little if I'd done it on purpose, but if I had told him I had forgotten, he would only said, You must remember better next time. Papa says that forgetfulness is no excuse, that I am to remember his commands, and if I forget, he'll have to punish me to make me remember better next time, said Elsie. He must be very strict indeed. I'm glad he's not my Papa, replied Lucy, in a tone of great satisfaction. Come, little girls, make haste and get ready. We are to start in half an hour, said Adelaide Dinsmore, calling them from the hall door. The whole family, old and young, including visitors, were on that day to go to a picnic up on the river, taking their dinner along and spending the day in the woods. They had been planning this excursion for several days, and the children especially had been looking forward to it with a great deal of pleasure. Am I to go and, Adelaide, did Papa say so? asked Elsie anxiously, as she and Lucy hastened to obey the summons. I presume you are to go, of course, Elsie. We've been discussing the matter for the last three days. Anyway, it's taking it for granted that you were to make one of the party, and he's never said you should not, replied Adelaide good-naturedly. So make haste, or you'll be too late. But here comes your Papa now, she added, as the library door opened, and Mr. Dinsmore stepped out, and his hall where they were standing. Horace, Elsie is to go, of course. I do not see thee, of course, Adelaide, said he dryly. No, Elsie is not to go. She must stay at home and attend to her lessons as usual. A look of keen disappointment came over Elsie's face, but she turned away without a word and went upstairs, while Lucy, casting a look of wrathful indignation that Mr. Dinsmore ran after her. And following her into the room, she put her arm around her neck, saying, never mind, Elsie, it's too bad. I wouldn't bear it. I'd go in spite of him. No, no, no, Lucy, I must obey my father. God says so, and besides, I couldn't do that. Even if I wanted to, for Papa is stronger than I am, and would punish me severely if I were to attempt such a thing, replied Elsie hastily, brushing away a tear that would come into her eye. Then I'd coax him, said Lucy. Come, I'll go with you, and we'll both try. No, replied Elsie with a hopeless shake of the head. I have found out already that my Papa never breaks his word, and nothing could induce him to let me go, now that he has once said I should not. But you'll have to leave me, Lucy, or you'll be too late. Goodbye then, said Lucy, turning to go, but I think it is a great shame, and I shan't have enjoyed myself without you. Well, now, Horace, I think you might let the child go, with Adelaide's somewhat indignant rejoinder to her brother, as the two little girls disappeared. I can't conceive what reason you have for keeping her at home, and she looks so terribly disappointed. Indeed, Horace, I am sometimes half inclined to think that you take pleasure in thwarting that child. You would better call me a tyrant at once, Adelaide, said he angrily, and turning very red. But I must beg to be permitted to manage my own child in my own way, and I cannot see that I am under any obligation to give my reasons either to you or to anyone else. Well, if you do not intend to let her go, I think you might have said so at first, and not let the poor little child build up her hopes upon it, only to be disappointed, I must say I think it was very cruel. Until this morning, Adelaide, he replied, I did intend to let her go, for I expected myself to go, but I find that I should not be able to do so, as I must meet a gentleman on business, and as I know that accidents frequently occur on such pleasure parties, I don't feel willing to let Elsie go, unless I could be there myself to take care of her, whether you believe it or not is a really regard for my child's safety and not cruelty that leads me to refuse her this gratification. You are full of notions about that child, Horace, Adelaide said impatiently, I am sure some of the rest of us could take care of her. No. In case of accident, you would all have enough to do to take care of yourselves, and I shall not think of trusting Elsie and the company, since I cannot be there myself, he answered decidedly, and Adelaide, saying that he was not to be moved from his determination, gave up the attempt and left the room to prepare for her ride. It was a great disappointment to Elsie, and for a few moments her heart rose up in rebellion against her father. She tried to put away the feelings, but it would come back, for she could not imagine any reason for his refusal to let her go, excepting the disobedience of the day before, and it seemed hard and unjust to punish her twice for the same's fault, especially as he would have known nothing about it but for her own frank and voluntary confession. It was a great pity she had not heard the reasons he gave her and Adelaide, for then she would have been quite submissive and content. It is indeed true that she ought to have been as well, but our little Elsie, though sincerely desirous to do right, was not yet perfect, and had already strangely forgotten the lessons of the morning. She watched from the veranda the departure of the pleasure seekers, all apparently in their gay spirits. She was surprised to see that her father was not with him, and half-reconciled her to staying at home. Although she hardly expected to see much of him, but there was something pleasant in the thought that he wanted her to home, because he was to be there himself. It looked as though he really had some affection for her, even a selfish love was better than none. I do not mean that these words or Elsie's thoughts, no, she never would have dreamed of calling her father selfish, but the undefined feeling was there as she watched him hand the ladies into the carriage, and then turned and re-entered the house as they drove off. But Miss Day's bell rang, and Elsie gathered up her books and hastened to the school room. Her patience and endurance were sorely tired that morning, for Miss Day was in an exceedingly bad humor and being greatly mortified and also highly indignant that she had not been invited to make one of the picnic party. And Elsie had never found her more unreasonable and difficult to please, and her incessant fault-finding and scolding were almost more than the little girl can bear in addition to her own sad disappointment. But at last the morning, which had seldom seemed so long, was over, and Elsie dismissed from the school room for the day. At dinner instead of the usual large party, there was only her father and the gentleman with whom he was transacting business, Miss Day, and herself. The gentleman was not one of those who cared to notice children, but continued to discuss business and politics with Mr. Dinsmore, without seeming to be at least aware of the presence of the little girl who sat in perfect silence, eating whatever her father saw fit to put on her plate. And Elsie was very glad indeed when at length, Miss Day rose to the table, and her papa told her she might go. He called her back, though, before she had gone across the room to say that he had intended to ride with her that afternoon, but found he should not be able to do so, and she must take Jim for a protector, as he did not wish her to either miss her ride or go entirely alone. He spoke very kindly, Elsie thought, with remorse of her rebellious feelings of the morning, and had she been alone with her father would certainly have confessed to them, expressing her sorrow and asking forgiveness. But she could not do so before third person, more especially a stranger, and merely saying, yes, papa, I will. She turned away and left the room. Jim was bringing up her horse as she passed the open door, and she hastened upstairs to prepare for her ride. Oh, Mammy, she suddenly exclaimed as Chloe was trying on her hat. Is Pom going to the city today? Yes, darling, he's going, start directly, said Chloe, arranging her nursing's curls to better advantage, and finishing her work with the font-carus. Oh, then Mammy, take some money out of my purse and tell him to buy me a pound of the very nicest candy he can find, said the little girl, eagerly. I haven't had any for a long time, and I feel hungry for it today. When they had bought it for the picnic, it looked so good, but you know, I didn't get any of it. The picnic party returned just before tea time, and Lucy Carrington rushed into Elsie's room, eager to tell her of what a delightful day they had had. She gave a very long, glowing account of their sports and entertainment, interrupting herself every now and then to lament over Elsie's absence, assuring her again and again that it had only been a drawback upon her own pleasure, and that she thought Elsie's pop was a very unkind indeed to refuse her permission to go. As Elsie listened, the morning's feelings of vexation and disappointment returned in full force, and though she said nothing, she allowed her friend to accuse her father of cruelty and injustice without offering any room and strains. In the midst of their talk, the tea-bell rang, and they hurried down to take their places at the table where Lucy went on with her narrative, though in a rather subdued tone. Elsie now and then, asking in question, until Mr. Dinsmore turned to his daughter, saying in a stern way, "'Be quiet, Elsie, you're talking entirely too much for a child of your age.  Elsie's face flushed, and her eyes filled under the rebuke, and during the rest of the meal, not a sound escaped her lips. "'Come, Elsie, let us go into the garden and finish our talk,' said Lucy, putting her arm affectionately around her friend's waist, as they left the table. "'Your papa can't hear us there, and we'll have a good time.'" "'Papa only stopped us because we were talking too much at the table,' said Elsie, apologetically. "'I'm sure he's willing. You should tell me all about what a nice time you had.' But Lucy,' she added, lowering her voice, "'Please don't say again that you think my papa was unkind to keep me at home today. I'm sure he knows best, and I ought not to listen to a word of that kind about him. "'Oh, well, never mind. I won't talk so any more,' said Lucy, good-naturedly, as they skipped down the walk together. But I do think he's crossed, and I wish you and my sister that you might have my good-kind papa for yours too,' she added, drawing her arm more closely about her friend's waist. "'Thank you, Lucy,' said Elsie, with a little sigh. "'I would like you to be my sister, but indeed I would not like to give it my own, dear papa, for I love him oh so much. "'Why, how funny when he's so crossed to you,' exclaimed Lucy, laughingly. Elsie put her hand over her friend's mouth, and Lucy pushed it away, saying, "'Excuse me, I forgot, but I'll try not to say it again.'" End of Chapter Fourth, Part Two Chapter Fourth, Part Three of Elsie Dinsmore. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Elsie Dinsmore by Martha Finley. Chapter Fourth, Part Three. While the little girls were enjoying their talk in the garden, a servant with a small bundle in her hand came out on the veranda, where Mr. Horace Dinsmore was sitting, smoking a cigar, and casting an inquiring glance around, as if he knew where Miss Elsie was. "'What do you want with her?' he asked. "'Only to give her this bundle, Martha, the pomp just bought from the city. "'Give it to me,' he said, extending his hand to receive it. A few moments afterward, Elsie and her friend returned to the house, and meeting pomp, she asked him if he had bought her the candy. He replied that he had got some that was very nice indeed, and he thought that Fanny had carried it to her. In seeing Fanny near, he called to her to know what she had done with it. "'Why, pomp, Martha Horace, he told me to give it to him,' said the girl. Elsie turned away with a very disappointed look. "'You'll go and ask him for it, won't you?' asked Lucy. He was anxious to enjoy sharing the candy, as well as to see Elsie gratified. "'No,' said Elsie, sighing, "'I had rather do without it.' Lucy coaxed for a while, but finding it impossible to persuade Elsie to approach her father on the subject, finally volunteered to do the errand herself. Elsie readily consented, and Lucy, trembling a bit in spite of her boast that she was not afraid of him, walked out onto the veranda, for Mr. Dinsmore was still sitting and putting on an air of great confidence, said, "'Mr. Dinsmore, will you please give me Elsie's candy? She wants it.' "'Did Elsie send you?' he asked in a grave tone. "'Yes, sir,' replied Lucy, somewhat frightened. "'Then if you please, Miss Lucy, you made to Elsie to come directly to me.' Lucy ran back to her friend, and Elsie received the message in some trepidation, but as no choice was now left to her, she went immediately to her father. "'Did you want me, Papa?' she asked timidly. "'Yes, Elsie, I wish to know why you sent another person for me for what you want instead of coming to me yourself. It displeases me very much, and you may rest assured that you will never get anything that way if you ask for it.' Elsie hung her head in silence. "'Are you going to answer me?' he asked in a severe tone. "'Why did you send Lucy instead of coming yourself?' "'I was afraid, Papa,' she whispered, almost under her breath. "'Afraid? Afraid of what?' he asked, with an increasing displeasure. "'Of you, Papa,' she replied in a tone so low that he could scarcely catch the words, although he bent down his ear to receive her reply. "'If I were drunk and brute in the habit of knocking you about and beating you and abusing you, there might be some reason for your fear.' "'Else,' he said, colouring with anger. "'But as it is, I see no excuse for it all, and I'm both hurt and displeased by it.' "'I'm very sorry, Papa. I won't do it again,' she said tremblingly. There was a moment's pause, and then she asked in a timid, hesitating way. "'Papa, may I have my candy, if you please?' "'No, you may not,' he said decidedly, and understand and remember that I positively forbid you either to buy or eat anything of the kind again without my express permission.' Else's eyes filled, and she had a hard struggle to keep down her rising sob, as she turned away and went slowly back to the place where she had left her friend. "'Have you got it?' asked Lucy eagerly. Else shook her head. "'What a shame,' exclaimed Lucy indignantly. "'He's just as cross as he can be. He's a tyrant, so he is, just a hateful old tyrant, and I wouldn't care a cent for him if I were you, Else. "'I'm glad he's not my father, so I am.' "'I'm afraid he doesn't love me very much,' said Else, in low, tearful tones, before he hardly ever lets me have anything or go anywhere that I want to. "'Well, never mind. "'I'll send and buy a good lot tomorrow, and we'll have a regular feast,' said Lucy soothingly, as she passed her arm around her friend's waist and drew her down to his seat on the portico step. "'Thank you, Lucy. You can buy it for yourself if you like, but not for me, for Papa has forbidden me to eat anything of the sort.' "'Of course we'll not let him know anything about it,' said Lucy, but Else shook her head sadly, saying with a little sigh. "'No, Lucy, you are very kind, but I cannot disobey Papa, even if he should never know it, because that would be disobeying God, and he would know it. "'To me, how particular you are,' exclaimed Lucy, a little pettishly. "'Else,' said Mr. Dinsmore, speaking from the door. "'What are you doing there? Did I not forbid you to be out in the evening air?' "'I did not know you meant the doorstep, Papa. I thought I was only not allowed to go in the garden,' applied the girl, rising to go in. "'I see you intend to make as near and approach to these obedience as you dare,' said her father. "'Go immediately to your room and tell me to put you to bed.' Else silently obeyed, and Lucy, casting an indignant glance at Mr. Dinsmore, was about to follow her when he said, "'I wish her to go alone, if you please, Miss Lucy,' and with a frown and a pout, the little girl walked into the drawing room and seated herself on the sofa behind her mama. Mr. Dinsmore walked out on the portico and stood there, watching the moon, which was just rising over the treetops. Horace, said Arthur, emerging from the shadow of a tree nearby and approaching his brother. "'Else, think to your tyrant. She's your never-letter-have-anything-or-go-anywhere, and you're always punishing her. She and Lucy have had a fine time out here talking over your bad treatment of her and planning to have some candy in spite of you. Arthur, I do not believe that Else would deliberately plan to disobey me, and whatever fault she may have, I am very sure she's above the meanness of tailing tales,' replied Mr. Dinsmore in a tone of severity, as he turned and went into the house, while Arthur, looking sadly crestfallen, crept away out of sight. When Else reached her room, she found that Clow was not there, for not expecting that her services would be required at so early an hour, she'd gone down to the kitchen to have a little chat with her fellow servants. Else rang for her, and then walking to the window, stood looking down into the garden in an attitude of thoughtfulness and ejection. She was mentally taking a review of the manner in which she had spent the day, as was her custom before retiring. The retrospect had seldom been so painful to the little girl. She had a very tender conscience, and it told her now that she had more than once the day indulged in wrong feelings toward her father, that she was also allowed another to speak disrespectfully of him, giving by her silence a tactic approval of the sentiments uttered, and more than that had spoken compellingly of him herself. Oh! she murmured half aloud, as she covered her face with her hands, and the tears trickled through her fingers. How soon I'd forgotten the lesson Papa taught me this morning, and I promised to trust him without knowing his reasons. I don't deserve that he should love me or be kind and indulge it when I am so rebellious.  Your old Mammy can't bear to see her pet crying like that. Oh, Mammy, Mammy, I've just been such a wicked girl today. Oh, and I'm afraid I shall never be good like Jesus.  Darling, said Clow earnestly, didn't you read to your old Mammy this very morning, depressed at words, if any man's sin, we have an advocate with the Father Jesus Christ the righteous, and the other, if we confess our sins, his faith will unjust to forgive us our sins. Go to the dear breasted Lord Jesus, darling, and ask him to forgive you, and I know he will.  He will forgive my sins and take away my wicked heart, and give me right thoughts and feelings.  She added, twining her arms lovingly around her nurse's neck, and then she delivered her pop's message, and Clow began at once to prepare her for bed. Elsie's tears had ceased to flow, but they were still trembling in her eyes, and the little face wore a very sad and troubled expression, as she stood patiently passive in her nurse's hands. Clow had soon finished her labors, and then the little girl opened her Bible, and as usual, read a few verses aloud, though her voice trembled, and once or twice a tear fell on the page, and closing the book she stole away to the side of the bed and knelt down. She was a good while on her knees, and several times, as the sound of a low sob fell upon Clow's ears, she sighed in murmur to herself, poor darling, dear breasted lamb, you old Mammy don't like to hear that. Then as a child rose from her kneeling posture, she went to her, and taking her in her arms, folded her in a fond embrace, calling her by the most tender and endearing epithets, and telling her that her old Mammy loved her better than life, better than anything in the wide world. Elsie flung her arms around her nurse's neck, and later head upon her bosom, saying, yes, my dear old Mammy, I know you love me, and I love you too, but put me in bed now, or Papa will be displeased. What makes you so unrestless, darling, as Clow, half an hour afterward, can't you go to sleep, know how? Oh, Mammy, if I could only see Papa just one more moment to tell him something. Do you think he would come to me? Said the little girl. Please, Mammy, do go down and see if he's busy. Don't say a word if he is, but if not, ask him to come for me just for one minute. Clow left the room immediately, but returned the next moment, saying, I just looked into the parlor, darling, and Massahorus, he might be busy playing chess with Miss Lucy's mama, and I didn't say enough into him. Just you go to sleep my pet, and tell Massahorus all about it in the morning. Elsie sighed deeply, and turning over on her pillow cried herself to sleep. Clow was just putting the finishing touches to the little girl's dress the next morning. When Lucy Carrington wrapped at the door. Good morning, Elsie, she said.  Wasn't it too bad of your father to send you off to bed so early last night? No, Lucy, Papa has the right to submit a bed whenever he pleases, and besides, I was naughty and deserved to be punished, and it was not much more than half an hour earlier than my usual bedtime. You, naughty, exclaimed Lucy, opening her eyes very wide. Her mama often says she wishes I was half as good. Elsie sighed but made no answer. Her thought seemed far away. She was thinking of what she had been so anxious the night before to tell her to her father, and trying again to gain courage to do it this morning. If I could only get close to him when nobody was by, and he would look and speak kindly to me, I could do it then, she murmured to herself. Come in, Clow, aren't you done? I want to have and run in the garden before breakfast, Lucy, somewhat impatiently, as Clow tied an untied Elsie's sash several times. Well, Miss Lucy, I is done now. She answered, passing her hand once more over the nurselings' curls, but, Master Horace, he might be particular about Miss Elsie. Yes, said Elsie, Papa wants me always to look very nice and neat. When I go down in the morning, he just gives me one glance from head to foot, and if anything is wrong, he is sure to see it and send me back immediately and have it made right. Now, Mammy, please give me my hat and let us go. He's got plenty of time and challenge. DeBeau won't ring for another this hour, remarked the old nurse tying on Elsie's hat. My child looks sweet and fresh as moss rosebuddent this morning, she added, talking to herself as she watched the two little girls tripping down the stairs, hand in hand. They skipped up and down the avenue several times and ran all around the garden before it was time to go in, and Elsie went up to Clow to have her hair made smooth again. She was just descending for the second time to the haul, when she left Lucy, when she saw a carriage drive up to the front door. There's Papa, cried Lucy joyfully, as it stopped and a gentleman sprang out and came up the steps into the portico, and in an instant she was in his arms, receiving such kisses and caresses as Elsie had vainly longed for all her life. Lucy had several brothers, but was an only daughter, and a very great pet, especially with her father. Elsie watched them with a wistful look and a strange aching in her heart. The presently Mr. Carrington set Lucy down and turning to her, gave her a shake of the hand, and then a kiss, saying, How do you do this morning, my dear? I'm afraid you are hardly glad to see me as I come to take Lucy away, for suppose you have been having a fine time together? Yes, sir, indeed we have, and I hope you let her come again. Oh, yes, certainly, but the visits must not all be on one side. I shall talk to your Papa about it, and perhaps persuade him to let us take you along this afternoon to spend a week at Ashland's. Oh, how delightful, cried Lucy, clapping her hands. Elsie, do you think he'll let you go? I don't know. I'm afraid not, replied the little girl doubtfully. Oh, you must coax him as I do my Papa, said Lucy. But at this Elsie only shook her head, and then just—then the breakfast fell rang. Mr. Dandemore was already in the breakfast room, and Elsie, going up to him, said, Good morning, Papa. Good morning, Elsie, he replied, but his tone was so cold that even if no one else had been by, she could not have said another word. He had not intended to be influenced by the information Arthur had so maliciously given him the night before, even consciously he was, and his manner to his little daughter was many degrees colder than it had been for some time. After breakfast, Lucy reminded Elsie of a promise she had made to show her some beautiful shells which her father had collected in his travels, and Elsie led the way to the cabinet, a small room opening in the library and filled with curiosities. They had gone in alone, but were soon followed by Arthur, Walter, and Anna. Almost everything in the room belonged to Mr. Horstensmore and Elsie, knowing that many of the articles were rare and costly, and that he was very careful of them, begged Anna and the boys to go out, lest they should accidentally do some mischief. I won't, replied Arthur, I've just as good a right to be here as you. As he spoke he gave her a push which almost knocked her over, and in catching at a table to save herself from falling she threw down a beautiful vase of old rare china, which Mr. Dismore prized very highly, and fell with a loud crash and lay scattered in fragments at their feet. There, see what you've done, exclaimed Arthur as a little group, stood aghast at the mischief, and having that Mr. Dismore was just then in the library and the noise soon brought him upon the scene of action. Who did this? He asked in a wrathful tone, looking for one to the other. Elsie said, Arthur, she threw it down and broke it. Troublesome careless child, I would not have taken a hundred dollars for that vase, he exclaimed.  She opened the door as he spoke, and Elsie flew across the hall up the stairs and into her own room, without once pausing or looking back. Now go out, every one of you, and don't come in here again. This is no place for children, said Mr. Dismore, turning the others into the hall and shutting and locking the door upon them. You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Arthur, Dismore, exclaimed Lucy, indignantly. It was all your own fault, and Elsie was not to blame it all and you know it. I didn't touch the old vase, and I'm not going to take the blame of it either, I can tell you miss, replied Arthur moving off, followed by Walter and Anna, while Lucy walked to the other end of the hall and stood looking out the window, debating on her own mind whether she had sufficient courage to face Mr. Dismore and to make him understand where the blame of the accident ought to lie. At length she seemed to have solved the question, for turning about and moving noiselessly down the passage to the library door she gave a timid rap which was immediately answered by Mr. Dismore's voice saying, Come in. Lucy opened the door and walked in, closing and after her. Mr. Dismore set a table writing, and he looked up with an expression of mingled surprise and impatience. What do you want, Miss Lucy? he said. Speak quickly, for I'm very busy. I just wanted to tell you, sir, replied Lucy, speaking up quite boldly. The Elsie was not at all to blame about the vase, for it was Arthur who pushed her and made her fall against the table, and that was the way the vase came to fall and break. What made him push her, he asked. Just because Elsie asked him and Walter and Anna to go out, for she feared they might do some mischief. Mr. Dismore's pen was suspended over the paper for a moment, while they sat thinking, with a somewhat clouded brow, but presently turned to the little girl, and said, quite pleasantly, Very well, Miss Lucy, I much obliged to you for your information, for I should be very sorry to punish Elsie and Justly, and now will you do me the favor of go to her and tell her that her papa said she need not stay in her room any longer? Yes, sir, I will, replied Lucy, her face sparkling with delight as she hurried off, with her great alacracy to do his bidding. She found Elsie in her room crying violently, and throwing her arms around her neck she delivered Mr. Dismore's message concluding with, So now, Elsie, you needn't cry, nor feel sorry any more, but just dry your eyes and let us go down into the garden and have a good time. Elsie was very thankful to Lucy, and very glad that her papa now knew that she was not to blame, but she was still sorry for his loss, and his words had wounded her so deeply to be immediately forgotten, indeed it was some time before the sore spot they had made in her heart was entirely healed, but she tried to forget it, all, and enter heartily into the sports proposed by Lucy. The Carrington's were not to leave until the afternoon, and the little girl spent nearly the whole morning in their garden, coming into the drawing-room a few moments before the dinner-bow-ring. Mrs. Carrington sat on the sofa engaged with some fancy work, while Herbert, who had not felt well enough to join the other children, had judged himself out beside her, putting his head in her lap. Mr. Carrington and Mr. Horstensmoore were conversing nearby. Lucy ran up to her papa and seated herself upon his knee, with her arm around his neck, while Elsie stopped a moment to speak to Herbert, and then timidly approaching her father, with her eyes upon the floor, she sat in a low, half-frightened tone that reached no ear but his. I am very sorry about the vase, papa. He took her hand, and drawing her close to him, pushed back the hair from her forehead with his other hand, and bending down to her, said almost in a whisper, Never mind, daughter, we will forget all about it. I am sorry I spoke so harshly to you, since Lucy tells me you were not so much to blame. Elsie's face flashed with pleasure, as she looked up gratefully, but before she had termed her reply, Mrs. Carrington said, Elsie, we want to take you home with us to spend a week. Will you go? I should like to, very much indeed, ma'am, if papa will let me, replied the little girl, looking wistfully up into his face. Mr. Dinsmore, what do you say? I hope you can have no objection, said Mrs. Carrington, looking inquirily at him. While her husband added, oh yes, Dinsmore, you must let her go by all means. You can certainly spare her for a week, and indeed it will be no interruption to her lessons, as she can share with Lucy in the instruction of our governess, who is really superior teacher. Mr. Dinsmore was looking very grave, and Elsie knew from the expression of his countenance what his answer would be before he spoke. He had noticed that in a dignite glance Lucy had once or twice bestowed upon him, and remembering Arthur's report of the conversation between two little girls the night before, had decided in his own line that the less Elsie saw Lucy the better. I thank you both of your kindness to my little girl, here bled courteously, but while thoroughly appreciating your kindness and extending the invitation, I must beg leave to decline it, as I am not satisfied that home is the best place for her at present. Ah, no, I suppose we ought hardly to have expected you to share her so soon after your return, said Mrs. Carrington, but really I am very sorry to be refused, for Elsie is such a good child that I am always delighted to have Lucy and Herbert with her. Perhaps you think better of her than she deserves, Mrs. Carrington, find that Elsie is sometimes naughty and in need of correction, as well as other children, and therefore I think it best to keep her as much as possible under my own eye. I play Mr. Dinsmore looking very gravely at his little daughter as he spoke. Elsie's face flushed painfully, and she had hard work to keep from bursting into tears. It was a great relief to her that just at that moment the dinner-bow rang, and there was a general movement in the direction of the dining-room. Her look was touchingly humble, as her father led her and then seated her at the table. She was thinking, Papa says I am naughty sometimes, but oh, how very naughty he would think of me if he knew all the wicked things I had thought yesterday. As soon as they had risen from the table, Mrs. Carrington bade Lucy to go to her mate and have her bonnet put on, as the carriage was already at the door. Elsie would have gone with her, but her father had taken her hand again, and he held it fast. She looked up aquarily into his face. Stay here, he said. Lucy will be back down again in a moment, and Elsie stood quietly at his side until Lucy returned. But even then her father did not relinquish his hole in her hand, and all the talking the little girls could do must be done close at his side. Yet as he was engaged in earnest conversation with Mr. Carrington and did not seem to be listening, Lucy ventured to whisper to Elsie. Like his romine of him, he might let you go. No, replied Elsie in the same low tone. I am sure Papa's know his best, besides I have been naughty and don't deserve to go, though I should like too dearly. Well, goodbye, said Lucy giving her a kiss. It was not until Mr. Carrington's carriage was fairly on its way down the avenue that Mr. Dinsmore dropped his little girl's hand, and then he said, I want you in the library, Elsie, come to me in half an hour. Yes, Papa, I will, she replied, looking a little frightened. You need not be afraid, he said in the tone of his pleasure, I'm not going to hurt you. Elsie blushed and hung her head, but made no reply, and he turned away and left her. She could not help wondering what it was he wanted with her, and though she tried not to feel afraid, it was impossible to keep from trembling a little as she knocked at the library door. Her father's voice said, come in, and, and during she found him alone, seated at a table covered with papers and writing materials, all beside the account book in which he was writing lay a pile of money in banknotes and gold and silver. Here, Elsie, he said, laying down his pen. I want to give you your month's allowance. Your grandfather has paid it to you here to you for, but of course now I am at home, I attend to everything that concerns you. You've been receiving $8, I shall give you $10, and as you counted out the money and laid it before her as he spoke, but I shall require a strict account of all you spend, I want you to learn to keep accounts for if you live, you will someday have a great deal of money to take care of, and here's the bank book that I have prepared so that you can do so very easily. Every time that you lay out or give away money, any money, you must see it down here as soon as you come home. Be particular about that, lest you should forget something, because you must bring your book to me at the end of every month, and let me see how much you spent, and what is the balance in hand? And if you're not able to make it come out square and tell me what you've done with every penny, you'll lose either the whole or part of your allowance for the next month. According to extent of your delinquency, do you understand? Yes, sir. Very well, let me see how much you can remember of your last month expenditures. Take the book and set down everything you can think of. Elsie had a good memory, and was able to remember how she had spent almost every cent during his time specified. She sent down one item after another, and then adding up the column without any mistakes. That was very well done, said her father approvingly, and then running over the items half allowed. Candy have a dollar. Remember, Elsie, there is to be no more money disposed of in that way, not as a matter of economy, by any means, because I consider it very injurious. I'm very anxious that you should grow up strong and healthy. I would not, for anything, have you miserable, dyspeptic. Then suddenly, closing the book, and handed it to her, he said inquiringly, were you very anxious to go to Ashlands? I would have liked to go pop if you'd been willing, she replied meekly. I'm afraid Lucy's not suitable company for you, Elsie. I think she puts bad notions into your head, he said very gravely. Elsie flushed and trembled, and was just opening her lips to make her confession when the door opened and her grandfather entered. She could not speak before him, and so remained silent. Does she not sometimes say naughty things to you, as her father speaking so low that her grandfather could not have heard? Yes, sir, replied a little girl, almost under her breath. I thought so, said he, and therefore I shall keep you apart as entirely as possible, and I hope there will be no murmuring on your part. No papa, you know best, she answered very humbly. Then putting the money into her hands, he dismissed her. When she had gone out, he sat for a moment in deep thought. Elsie's list of articles had brought her with last month's allowance consisted of most of entirely gifts for others, gentlemen's servants. There were some beads and sewing silk for making a purse and few drawing materials, but with the exception of the candy she had bought nothing else for herself. This is what her father was thinking of. She's a dear unselfish generalist little thing, he said to himself. However, I may be mistaken, I must then allow myself to judge from only one month. She seemed submissive too. He had overheard what passed between her and Lucy at parting. But perhaps that was for effort. She probably suspected I could have hurt her, and she thinks me a tyrant and obeys me from fear, not love. This thought drove away all the tender feelings that had been creeping into his heart, and when he next met his little daughter, his manner was as cold and distant as ever, and Elsie found it impossible to approach him with sufficient freedom to tell him what was in her heart. CHAPTER 5 Man is unjust, but God is just, and finally a man who is just as triumphs. Longfellow's Evangelion. How disappointment tracks the steps of hope. Mislanding. One afternoon, the next week after the Carrington's had left, the younger members of the family, Arthur, Elsie, Walter, and Ina, were setting out to take a walk. When Elsie, seeing a gold chain depending from the pocket of Arthur's jacket, exclaimed, Oh Arthur! How could you take Grandpa's watch? You do put it away, but you will be almost sure to injure it. Hold your tongue, Elsie, I'll do as I please, was the polite rejoinder. But Arthur, you know that Grandpa would never let you take it, for I have often heard him say that it was very valuable, for it was seldom that so good a one could be had at any price, and I know that he paid a great deal for it. Well, if he prizes it so, he needn't have left it lying on his table, so I'll just teach him a lesson. It's about time he learned to be careful. Oh, Arthur, do put it away, pleaded Elsie. If anything should happen to it, what will Grandpa say? I know he will be very angry and ask us all who did it, and you know I cannot tell a lie. And if he asks me if it was you, I cannot say no. Yes, I'll trust you for telling tales, replied Arthur, sneeringly. But if you do, I'll pay you for it. He ran down the avenue as he spoke, Walter and Anna following, and Elsie slowly bringing up the rear, looking at the picture of distress, for she knew not what to do, seeing that Arthur would not listen to her remonstrances and as often happened. All the older members of the family were out, and thus there was no authority that could be appealed to in times, prevent mischief, which she had every reason to fear would be done. Once she thought of turning back, that she might escape the necessity of being a witness in the case. But remembering that her father had told her she must walk with the others that afternoon, and also that as she had already seen the watch in Arthur's possession, her testimony would be sufficient to convict him, even if she saw no more. She gave up the idea, and hurried on with the faint hope that she might be able to induce Arthur to refrain from indulging in such sports as would be likely to endanger the watch, or else to give it into her charge. At any other time she would have trembled at the thought of touching it, but now she felt so sure it would be safer with her than with him that she would gladly have taken the responsibility. The walk was far from being a pleasure that afternoon. The boys ran so fast that it quite put her out of breath to keep up with them. And then every little while Arthur would cut some caper that made her tremble for the watch, answering her in trees that he would either give it into her care or walk along quietly, with sneers and taunts, and declarations of his determination to do just exactly as he pleased and not be ruled by her. But at length, while he was in the act of climbing a tree, the watch dropped from his pocket and fell to the ground, striking with considerable force.  The crystal was broken, the back dented, and how much the works were injured they could not tell, but it had ceased to run. Oh, Arthur, see what you've done, exclaimed Walter. What will Papa say? said Anna, while Elsie stood pale and trembling, not speaking a word. You hush, exclaimed Arthur fiercely. I'll tell you what, if any of you dare to tell of me, I'll make you sorry for it to the last day of your life. Do you hear? The question was addressed to Elsie in a tone of defiance. Arthur said she, grandpa will know that somebody did it, and surely you would not wish an innocent person to be punished for your fault. I don't care who gets punished, so that Papa does not find out. That I did it, said he furiously, and if you dare to tell of me, I'll pay you for it. I shall say nothing unless it becomes necessary to save the innocent or I am forced to speak, but in that case I shall tell the truth, replied Elsie firmly. Arthur doubled up his fist and made a plunge at her as if he meant to knock her down, but Elsie sprang behind the tree, and then ran so flitly toward the house that he was not able to overtake her until his passion had had time to cool. When they reached the house, Arthur replaced the watch on his father's table, once he had taken it, and then they all awaited his return with what courage they might. I say, Wally, said Arthur, drawing his little brother aside and speaking in a low tone, having first said to cautious glance around to assure himself that no one else was within hearing. I say, why would you give me for that new riding whip of mine? Oh, Arthur, anything I've got, exclaimed the little boy eagerly, but you wouldn't give it up, I know, and you're only trying to tease me. No, indeed, Wally, I need to give it to you if you'll only be a good fellow and do as I tell you. What, he asked with intense interest. Tell Papa that Jim broke the watch. But he didn't, replied the child, opening his eyes wide with astonishment.  Papa doesn't know that. But Jim will get punished, said Walter.  Very well, sir, then you'll not get the whip. And besides, if you don't do as I wish, I'm certain you'll see a ghost one of these nights. But there's one that comes to see me sometimes, and I'll send him right off to you. Oh, don't, Arthur, don't. I die of fright, cried the little boy, who is very timid, glancing nervously around as if he expected the ghost to appear immediately.  Oh, Arthur, don't let him come. And I'll say anything you want me to, cried the little fellow in great terror. That's a good boy, I knew you would, said Arthur, smiling triumphantly. And turning away from Walter, he next sought out Anna and tried his threats and persuasions upon her with even better success.  No one came, however, and at last the T-bell rang, and on going down she found to her relief that her grandfather and his wife had not yet returned. He looked pale, Elsie, said her father, giving her a scrutinizing glance as she took her seat by his side. Are you well? Yes, Papa, quite well, she replied. He looked at her again a little anxiously, but said no more, and as soon as the meal was concluded, Elsie hastened away to her own room again. It was still early in the evening when Mr. and Mrs. Dinsmore returned, for once bringing no company with them, and he had not been many minutes in the house ere he took up his watch, and, of course, instantly discovered the injury it had sustained. His suspicions at once fell upon Arthur, whose character for mischief was well established, and burning with rage, watch in hand, he repaired to the drawing-room, which he entered, asking Tone's tremulous with passion. Where is Arthur, young rascal? This is some of his work. He added, holding up the injured article. My dear, how can you say so? Have you any proof? Asked his wife deprecatingly, adding her softest tones. My poor boy seems to get the blame of everything that goes wrong. He gets no more than he deserves, replied her husband angrily. Arthur! Arthur, I say, where are you? He's in the garden, sir, I think. I saw him walking in the shrubbery a moment since, said Mr. Horace Dinsmore. The father instantly dispatched a servant to bring him in, sending a second in search of the overseer, while a third was ordered to assemble all the house servants. I will sift this matter to the bottom, and child or servant, the guilty one shall suffer for it. Exclaimed the old gentleman, pacing angrily up and down the room. Arthur, said he sternly as the boy made his appearance looking somewhat pale and alarmed. How dared you meddle with my watch? I didn't, sir, I never touched it, he replied boldly, yet avoiding his father's eye as he uttered the deliberate falsehood.  I don't believe you, said his father, and if you are guilty as I strongly suspect you had better confess it at once before I find it out in some other way. I didn't do it, sir, it was Jim, and I can prove it by Walter and Anna. We all saw it fall from his pocket when he was up in a tree, and he cried like anything when he found it was broken, and said he didn't need to do it any harm.  That I will, if it's true, exclaimed the old gentleman passionately, he shall be well whipped and sent out to work on the plantation. I'll keep no such muddles about my house. He looked at Anna. What do you know of this, he asked. It's true, Papa, I saw him do it, she replied with a slight blush and sending an uneasy glance around the room. Did you see it to Walter? Asked his father. Yes, sir, replied the little fellow in a low, reluctant tone, but please, Papa, don't punish him. I'm sure he didn't mean to break it. Hold your tongue, he shall be punished as he deserves, cried the old gentleman furiously. Here, sir, turning to the overseer and pointing to Jim, take the fellow out and give him such a flogging as he will remember. Elsie was sitting in her own room, trying to learn a lesson for the next day, but finding great difficulty in fixing her thoughts upon it when she was startled by the sudden entrance of Aunt Chloe, who, with her apron to her eyes, was sobbing violently. Oh, Mammy, Mammy, what's the matter? Has anything happened to you? inquired the little girl in a tone of great alarm, starting to her feet and dropping her book in her hasten fright. Ah, sob, Chloe, Jim, he's been gone and broke old master's watch, and he's going to be whipped. An old Aunt Phoebe, she's crying, fit to break her old heart about her boy, because Elsie waited to hear no more, but darting out into the hall and encountering her father on his way to his room, she rushed up to him pale and agitated, and a seize in his hand looked up eagerly into his face, exclaiming with a burst of tears and sobs, oh, Papa, Papa, don't, oh, don't let them whip for Jim. Mr. Dinsmore's countenance was very grave, almost distressed. I'm sorry, it is necessary, daughter, he said, but Jim has done very wrong and deserves his punishment, and I cannot interfere. Oh, no, Papa, he did not indeed, he did not break the watch, I know he didn't, for I was by and saw it all. Is it possible, said he in a tone of surprise, then tell me who did it? It could not have been you, Elsie, and he looked searchingly into her face. Oh, no, Papa, I would never have dared to touch it, but please don't make me tell tales, but I know it wasn't Jim. Oh, do stop them quickly before they begin to whip him. Aunt Chloe, said Mr. Dinsmore, go down to my father and tell him it is my request that the punishment should be delayed a few moments until I come down. Then, taking Elsie's hand, he led her into her room again, and seating himself through her to his side, saying with grave decision, now my daughter, if you want to save Jim, it will be necessary for you to tell all you know about this affair. I don't like to tell tales, Papa, pleaded the little girl. I think it's so very mean. Is it not enough for me to tell that I know Jim didn't do it? No, Elsie, I have already said that it is quite necessary for you to tell all you know. Oh, Papa, don't make me. I don't like to do it. She urns with tears in her eyes. I should be very much ashamed of you and quite unwilling to own you as my child if, under any other circumstances, you were willing to tell tales, you replied, in a tone of kindness that quite surprised Elsie, who always trembled with the very thought of opposing the slightest resistance to his will. But he added firmly, it is the only way to save Jim. If you do not now make a full disclosure of all you know, he will be severely whipped and sent away to work on the plantation, which will distress his poor, old mother exceedingly. Elsie, I think you would be doing very wickedly to allow an innocent person to suffer when you can prevent it, and besides, I will add the weight of my authority and say you must do it at once. And you well know, my daughter, that there can be no question as to the duty of obedience to your father. He paused, gazing earnestly down into the little tearful, downcast, blushing face at his side. Have I not said enough to convince you of your duty, he asked? Yes, Papa, I will tell you all about it. She answered in a tremulous tone. Her story was told with evident reluctance, but in a simple, straightforward manner that attested its truthfulness. Mr. Dinsmore listened in silence, but with an expression of indignation on his handsome features, and the moment she had finished, she rose, and again taking her hand, led her from the room, saying as he did so, you must repeat this story to your grandfather. Oh Papa, must I, won't you tell him, please don't make me do it? She pleaded trembling and hanging back. My daughter, you must, you replied, so sternly that she dared not make any further resistance, but quietly submitted to be led into her grandfather's presence. He was still in the drawing-room, walking about in a disturbed and angry manner, and now and then casting a suspicious glance upon Arthur, who sat pale and trembling in a corner, looking at the picture of guilt and misery, for he had heard Chloe deliver his brother's message, and fear that exposure awaited him. Walter had stolen away to cry over Jim's punishment, and wished that he had had the courage to tell the truth at first, but saying to himself that it was too late now, his father wouldn't believe him, and he would make it up to Jim somehow, even if it took all his pocket money for a month. None of the other members of the family had left the room, and all wore an anxious, expectant look, as Mr. Dinsmore entered, leading Elsie by the hand. I have brought you another witness, sir, he said, for it seems Elsie was present when the mischief was done. Ah, explained the old gentleman, that I may hope to get at the truth. Elsie, who broke my watch? It was not Jim, Grandpa, indeed it was not, but oh, please don't make me say what it is, replied the little girl beseechingly. Elsie, explained her father, and atonished, stern reproof. Oh, Papa, how can I? She sobbed, trembling and clinging to his hand as she caught a threatening look from Arthur. Come, come, child, you must tell us all you know about it, said her grandfather, or else I can't let Jim off. Mr. Dinsmore was looking down at his little girl, and following the direction of her glance, perceived for the cause of her terror. Don't be afraid to speak out and tell all you know, daughter, for I will protect you, he said, pressing the little trembling hand at his, and at the same time giving Arthur a meaning look. Yes, yes, child, speak out, child, speak out at once. No one shall hurt you for telling the truth, explained her grandfather impatiently. I will, Grandpa, she said, trembling and leaping, but please don't be very angry with Arthur. If you'll forgive him this time, I think you will never meddle any more, and I'm quite sure you did not mean to break it. So it was you, after all, you young rascal. I knew it from the first, cried the old gentleman striding across the room, seizing the boy by the shoulder and shaking him roughly.  You young dog, he had it when she had finished. Yes, I'll forgive you when you've had a good sound flogging and a weak solitary confinement on bread and wire, but not before. So saying, he was about to lead him from the room when Elsie suddenly sprang forward with clasped hands, and flushed eager face.  Will you, Arthur? Let me pay for the watch, Grandpa, and don't punish him, I would so like to do it. It isn't the money value of the watch I care for, child, replied the old gentleman contemptuously. And besides, where would you get so much money? I'm rich, Grandpa, am I not? Didn't my mama leave me a great deal of money?  No, Elsie said her father very gently as he took her hand and let her back to the side of his chair again. You have nothing but what I choose to give you until you come of age, which will not be for a great many years yet. But you will give me the money to pay for the watch, Papa, won't you? She asked pleadingly. No, I certainly shall not, for I think Arthur should be left to suffer the penalty of his own misdeeds. He replied in a very decided tone. And besides the edit, your grandfather has already told you that it is not the pecuniary loss he cares for. No, but I will teach this young rascal to let my property alone. Said the elder gentleman with almost fierce determination as he tightened his grasp upon the boy's arm and dragged him through the room. Arthur cast a look of hatred and defiance that Elsie, as he went out, that made her grow pale with fear and trembled so that she could scarcely stand. Her father saw both the look and its effect and drawing the little trembler closer to him, he put his arm around her and stroking her hair, said in a low soothing tone. Don't be frightened, dear. I will protect you. She answered him with a grateful look and a long sigh of relief. And he was just about to take her on his knee when visitors were announced. In changing his mind, he dismissed her to her room and she saw no more of him that evening. Oh, if they only hadn't come just now, thought the sorely disappointed child as she went out with slow and looked at steps, I'm sure they wouldn't if they had only known. I'm sure, quite sure Papa was going to take me on his knee and they prevented him. Oh, will he ever think of doing it again? Dear, dear Papa, if you could only know how long to sit there. But Mrs. Dinsmore, who had hastily retired on the exit of Arthur and his father from the drawing room, was now sailing majestically down the hall on her return thither. And Elsie catching sight of her and being naturally anxious to avoid a meeting just then at once quickened her pace very considerably, almost running up the stairs to her own room where she found old Aunt Phoebe, Jim's mother, waiting to speak with her. The poor old creature was overflowing with gratitude and her fervent outpouring of thanks and blessings almost made Elsie forget her disappointment for the time. Then Jim came to the door asking to see Miss Elsie and poured out his thanks amid many sobs and tears for the poor fellow had been terribly frightened, indeed so astounded by the unexpected charge that he had not had a word to say in his own defense beyond an earnest and reiterated assertion of his entire innocence, to which, however, his angry master had paid no attention. But at length, Phoebe remembered that she had some baking to do and calling on Jim to come right along and split up some dry wood to heat her oven, she went down to the kitchen followed by her son and Elsie was left alone with her nurse. Chloe sat silently knitting and the little girl with her head leaning upon her hand and her eyes fixed thoughtfully upon the floor was rehearsing again and again in her own minds, all that had just passed between her papa and herself, dwelling with lingering delight upon everything approaching to a caress, every kind word, every soothing tone of his voice, and then picturing to herself all that he might have done and said, if those unwelcome visitors had not come in and put an end to the interview and half hoping that he would send for her when they had gone, she watched the clock and listened intently for every sound. But her bedtime came and she dared not stay up any longer for his orders had been frumptery that she should always retire precisely at that hour, unless she had his expressed permission to remain up longer. She lay awake for some time, thinking of his unwanted kindness and indulging fond hopes for the future, then fell asleep to dream that she was on her father's knee and felt his arms folded lovingly about her and his kisses warm upon her cheek. Her heart beat quickly as she entered the breakfast room the next morning. The family were just taking their places at the table and her half eager half timid, good morning Papa was answered by a grave absent, good morning Elsie and turning to his father and entering into a conversation with him on some business matter. He took no further notice of his little daughter accepting to see that her plate was well supplied with such articles of food as he allowed her to eat. Elsie was sadly disappointed and lingered about the room in the vain hope of obtaining a smile or caress. But presently her father went out saying that the elder Mr. Dinsmore that he was going to ride over to Ion and would probably not return before night. Then with a sigh the little girl went back to her own room to prepare her morning lessons. Elsie was now happily free from Arthur's persecutions for a time for even after his release he was too much afraid of his brother openly to offer her any very serious annoyance though he plotted revenge and secret. Yet the little girl's situation was far from comfortable and her patience often severely tried for Mrs. Dinsmore was excessively angry with her on Arthur's account. And whenever her father was not present treated her in the most unkind manner and from the same cause the rest of the family with the exception of her grandpa and Anne Adelaide were unusually cold and distant. While her father although careful to see that all her wants were intended to seldom took any further notice of her unless to reprove her for some childish fault which however trifling never escaped his eye. You seem said Adelaide to him one day as he said to Elsie from the room for some very slight fault. To expect that child to be a great deal more perfect than any grown person I ever saw and to understand all about the rules of etiquette. If you please Adelaide said he haughtily I should like to be allowed to manage my own child as I see proper without any interference from others. Excuse me replied his sister. I have no intention of interfering but really Horace I do think you have no idea how eagle eyed you are for faults in her. Nor how very stern is the tone in which you always reproof her. I have known Elsie a great deal longer than you have and I feel very certain that a gentle reproof would do her quite as much good and not wound her half so much. Enough Adelaide exclaimed her brother impatiently.  As it is I must say I consider it simply impertinent. And he left the room with an angry stride while Adelaide looked after him with a thought. I'm glad you have no authority over me. All that Adelaide had said was true yet Elsie never complained never blamed her father even in her heart but in her deep humility thought it was all because she was so very naughty or careless and she was continually making resolutions to be oh so careful always to do just right and please dear Papa so that someday you might learn to love her. But alas that hope was daily growing fainter and fainter his cold and distant manner to her and his often repeated reproofs had so increased her natural timidity and sensitiveness that she was now very constrained in her approaches to him and seldom ventured to move or speak in his presence. And he would not see that this timidity and embarrassment were the natural results of his treatment but attributed it all to want of affection. He saw that she feared him and to that feeling alone he gave credit for her uniform obedience to his commands while he had no conception of the intense but now almost despairing love for him that burned in that little heart and made the young wife one longing earnest desire and effort to gain his affection. End of chapter fifth, recording by Sarah Gatirez. Chapter six of Elsie Dinsmore. 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 Sarah Gatirez. Elsie Dinsmore by Martha Finley. Chapter six. Yay though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil for thou art with me. Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me. Psalm 23-4. Tis but the cruel artifice of fate thus to refine and vary on our woes, to raise us from despair and give us hope, only to plunge us in the gulf again and make us doubly wretched. Traps Abrama. It was Sabbath morning and Elsie, ready dressed for church, stood in the portico waiting for her father to come down and lift her into the carriage in which Adelheid, Luisa, and Anna were already seated. The coachman was in his seat and the horses, a pair of young and fiery steeds purchased by Mr. Dinsmore, only a few days before, were impatiently stamping and tossing their heads, requiring quite an exertion of strength to hold them in. I don't exactly like the actions of those horses, Ajax, remarked Mr. Dinsmore, as he came out putting on his glove. I did not intend to have them put in harness today. Why did you not give us the old bays? Cos Master Horace, old Kate, she's got a lame foot. An old master, he says these youngsters got to be used some time or another and I reckon I'm out just as well using them today. Do you feel quite sure of being able to hold them in? Asked his master, glancing uneasily first at the horse and then at Elsie. Okay, Master, this here child been able to hold in almost anything. Explained the Negro exhibiting a double row dazzlingly white teeth. And besides, eyes drove these here horses twice for now and day went splendid. Hold them in, yes sir, easy as nothing. Elsie, said her father, still looking a little uneasy in spite of Ajax's boasting, I think it would be just as well for you to stay at home. Elsie made no reply in words, but her answering look spoke such intense disappointment, such earnest entreaty that saying, ah well, I suppose there is no real danger and since you seem so anxious to go, I will not compel you to stay at home. He lifted her into the carriage and seating himself beside her ordered the coachman to drive on as carefully as he could. Elsie changed seats with me, said Anna. I want to sit beside brother Horace. No, replied Mr. Dinsmore, laying his hand on his little daughter's shoulder. Elsie's place is by me and she shall sit nowhere else. Do you think we are in any danger of being run away with? Asked Adelheid a little anxiously as she observed him glancing once or twice out of the window and was at the same time sensible that their motion was unusually rapid. The horses are young and fiery but Ajax is an excellent driver, he replied evasively, adding, you may be sure that if I had thought the danger very great I would have left Elsie at home. They reached the church without accident but on their return the horses took fright while going down a hill and rushed along at a furious rate which threatened every instant to upset the carriage. Elsie thought they were going very fast but did not know that there was real danger until her father suddenly lifted her from her seat and placing her between his knees held her tightly as though he feared she would be snatched from his grasp. Elsie looked up into his face. It was deadly pale and his eyes were fixed upon her with an expression of anguish. Dear Papa, she whispered, God will take care of us. I would give all I'm worth to have you safe at home. He answered hoarsely, pressing her closer and closer to him. Oh, even in that moment of fearful peril when death seemed just at hand, those words and the affectionate clasp of her father's arm sent a thrill of intense joy to the love-vamish heart of the little girl. But destruction seemed inevitable. Laura was leaning back, half fainting with terror. Adelaide scarcely less alarmed while Anna clung to her sobbing most bitterly. Elsie alone preserved a cheerful serenity. She had built her house upon the rock and knew that it would stand. Her destiny was in her heavenly father's hand and she was content to leave it there. Even death had no terrors to the simple unquestioning faith of little child who had put her trust in Jesus. But they were not to perish thus. For at that moment a powerful negro who was walking along the road hearing an unusual sound turned about, caught sight of the vehicle coming toward him at such a rapid rate and instantly comprehending the peril of the travelers planted himself in the middle of the road and at the risk of life and limb caught the horses by the bridle, the sudden and unexpected check throwing them upon their haunches and bringing the carriage to an instant standstill. Thank God we are saved. That fellow shall be well rewarded for his brave deed, explained Mr. Dinsmore, throwing open the carriage door. Then, leaping to the ground, he lifted Elsie out, set her down and gave his hand to his sisters one after the other. They were almost at the entrance of the avenue and all preferred to walk the short distance to the house rather than again trust themselves to the horses. Mr. Dinsmore lingered a moment to speak to the man who had done them such good service and to give some directions to the coachmen and then, taking the hand of his little girl who had been waiting for him, he walked slowly on, neither of them speaking a word until they reached the house when he stooped and kissed her cheek asking very kindly if she had recovered from her fright. Yes, Papa, she answered in a quiet tone. I knew that God would take care of us. Oh, wasn't he good to keep us all from being killed? Yes, he said very gravely, go now and let Mammy get you ready for dinner. As Elsie was sitting alone in her room that afternoon, she was surprised by a visit from Laura, it being very seldom that the elder girls cared to enter her apartment. Laura looked a little pale and more grave and thoughtful than Elsie had ever seen her. For a while she sat in silence, then suddenly burst out. Oh, Elsie, I can't help thinking all the time. What if we had been killed? Where would we all be now? Where would I have been? I believe you would have gone straight to heaven, Elsie. But I, oh, I should have been with the rich man the minister read about this morning, lifting up my eyes in torment. And Laura covered her face with her hands and shuttered. Presently she went on again. I was terribly frightened and so were the rest. Oh, but you, Elsie, tell me, what kept you from being afraid? I was thinking, said Elsie gently, turning over the leaves of her little Bible as she spoke of this sweet verse. Yay, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for thou art with me. And oh, Laura, it made me so happy to think that Jesus was there with me and that if I were killed, I should only fall asleep to wake up again in his arms. Then how could I be afraid? Oh, I would give anything to feel as you do. Said Laura, sighing. But tell me, Elsie, did you not feel afraid for the rest of us? I'm sure you must know that we are not Christians. We don't even pretend to be. Elsie blushed and looked down.  Was very selfish, I know. She added with deep humility, but it was only for a moment, and I can't tell you how thankful I was for all our spared lives. Don't look so as if you had done something very wicked, Elsie, replied Laura, sighing again.  But oh, Elsie, if you can only tell me how to be a Christian, I mean now to try very hard. Indeed, I am determined never to rest until I am one. Oh, Laura, how glad I am, cried Elsie joyfully, for I know that if you are really an earnest, you will succeed, for no one ever yet failed who tried to write. Jesus said, everyone that asketh, receiveeth, and he that seeketh, findeth, and to him that knocketh, it shall be opened. Is not that encouraging? And listen to what God says here in this verse, ye shall seek me and find me, when ye shall search for me with all your heart. So you see, dear Laura, if you will only seek the Lord with your whole heart, you may be sure, quite sure, of finding him. Yes, said Laura, but you have not answered my question. How am I to seek? That is, what means am I to use to get rid of my sins and get a new heart? How make myself pleasing in the sight of God? What must I do to be saved? That is the very question the jailer put to Paul, and he answered, believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved. Replied Elsie quickly turning to the chapter and pointing out the text with her finger that Laura might see that she had quoted it correctly. And in answer to your other question, how shall I get rid of my sins? See here, in that day there shall be a fountain open to the house of David and to the inhabitants of Jerusalem for sin and for uncleanliness. That is in Zechariah. Then John tells us what that fountain is when he says, the blood of Jesus Christ, his son, cleanses us from all sin. And again, unto him that loved us and washed us from our sins in his own blood. Yes, Elsie, but what must I do? Asked Laura eagerly. Do Laura only believe? replied Elsie in the same earnest tone. Jesus has done and suffered all that is necessary. And now we have nothing at all to do, but go to him and be washed in that fountain. Believe him when he says, I give unto them eternal life. Just accept the gift and trust and love him. That is the whole of it. And it is so simple that even such a little girl as I can understand it. But surely, Elsie, I can, I must do something. Yes, God tells us to repent. And he says, give me thine heart. You can do that. You can love Jesus. At least he will enable you to if you ask him. And he will teach you to be sorry for your sins. The Bible says he is exalted to give repentance and remission of sins. And if you ask him, he will give them to you. It is true we cannot do anything good of ourselves without the help of the Holy Spirit. We can do nothing right because we are so very wicked. But then we can always get that help if we ask for it. Jesus said, your heavenly Father is more willing to give his Holy Spirit to them that ask him than parents are to give good gifts unto their children. Oh, Lord, don't be afraid to ask for it. Don't be afraid to come to Jesus. For he says, him that cometh unto me, I will in no wise cast out.  But remember that you must come very humbly, feeling that you are a great sinner and not worthy to be heard and only hoping to be forgiven because Jesus died. The Bible says God resisteth the proud but giveeth grace unto the humble. Laura lingered the greater part of the afternoon in Elsie's room asking her questions or listening to her while she read the scriptures or repeated some beautiful hymn or spoke in her sweet childish way of her own peace and joy in believing in Jesus. But at last Laura went to her own room and Elsie had another quiet half hour to herself before the T-bell again called the family together. Elsie answered the summons with a light heart, a heart that thrilled with a new and strange sense of happiness as she remembered her father's evident anxiety for her safety during their perilous ride, recalling each word and look and feeling again in imagination the clasp of his arm about her waist. Ah, surely Papa does love me.  How does my little daughter do this evening? Her cheeks flushed and her eyes grew bright with happiness and she longed to throw her arms around his neck and tell him how very, very much she loved him. But that was quite impossible at the table and before all the family, so she merely raised her glad eyes to his face and answered, I am very well, thank you Papa. But after all this occurrence produced but little change in Elsie's condition, her father treated her a little more affectionately for a day or two and then gradually returned to his ordinary stern cold manner. Indeed before the week was out she was again in sad disgrace. She was walking alone in the garden one afternoon when her attention was attracted by a slight fluttering noise which seemed to proceed from an arbor nearby and on hastily turning in to ascertain the cause she found a tiny and beautiful hummingbird confined under a glass vase. In its struggles to escape it was fluttering and beating against the walls of its prison thus producing the sound the little girl had heard in passing. Elsie was very tender-hearted and could never see any living creature in distress without feeling a strong desire to relieve its suffering. She knew that Arthur was in the habit of torturing every little insect and bird that came in his way and had often drawn his persecutions upon herself by interfering in behalf of the poor victim and now the thought instantly flashed upon her that this was some of his work and that he would return ere long to carry out his cruel purposes. Then at once arose the desire to release the little prisoner and save it further suffering and without waiting to reflect the moment she raised the glass and the bird was gone. Then she began to think with a little tremor how angry Arthur would be but it was too late to think of that now and after all she did not stand in very great dread of the consequences especially as she felt nearly sure of her father's approval of what she had done having several times heard him reprove Arthur for his cruel practices. Not caring to meet Arthur then however she hastily retreated to the house where she seated herself in the veranda with a book. It was a very warm afternoon and that being on the east side of the house and well protected by trees and shrubbery and vines was as cool a spot as could be found in the place. Arthur, Walter and Anna sat on the floor playing jackstones, a favorite game with them and Louise was stretched full length on a settee buried in the latest novel. Hush, she said as Walter gave a sudden shout a successful toss and I had just made, can't you be quiet? Mama is taking her afternoon nap and you will disturb her and besides I cannot read such a noise. Elsie wondered why Arthur did not go to see after his bird but soon forgot all about it in the interest with which she was pouring over the story of the Swiss family Robinson. The jackstone players were just finishing their game when they were all startled by the sudden appearance of Mr. Horace Dinsmore upon the scene asking in a tone of great wrath who had been down in the garden and liberated the hummingbird. He had been at such pains to catch because it was one of a rare species and he was anxious to add it to his collection of curiosity. Elsie was terribly frightened and would have been glad at that moment to sink through the floor. She dropped her book in her lap and clasping her hands over her beating heart grew pale and red by turns while she seemed choking with the vain effort to speak and acknowledge herself the culprit as conscience told her she ought. But her father was not looking at her. His eye was fixed on Arthur. I presume it was you, sir, he said very angrily and if so you may prepare yourself for either a flogging or a return to your prison for one or the other I am determined you shall have. I didn't do it, any such thing replied the boy fiercely. Of course you will deny it, said his brother but we all know that your word is good for nothing. Papa, said a trembling little voice, Arthur did not do it. It was I. You, exclaimed her father in a tone of mingled anger and astonishment as he turned his flashing eye upon her. You, Elsie, can it be possible that this is your doing? Elsie's book fell on the floor and covering her face with both hands she burst into sobs and tears. Come here to me this instant, he said, exceeding himself in the city from which Louise had risen on his entrance. Come here and tell me what you mean by meddling with my affairs in this way. Please, Papa, please don't be so very angry with me. sobbed the little girl as she rose and came forward in obedience to his command. I didn't know it was your bird and I didn't mean to be naughty. No, you never mean to be naughty according to your own account, he said.  It was only the other day you broke a valuable vase. He forgot in his anger how little she had really been to blame for that. And now you have caused me the loss of a rare specimen which I had spent a great deal of time and effort in procuring. Really, Elsie, I am sorely tempted to administer a very severe punishment. Elsie caught at the arm of the satire for support. Tell me what you did it for. Was it pure love of mischief? Asked her father sternly, taking hold of her arm and holding her up by it. No, papa, she answered almost under her breath. I was sorry for the little bird. I thought Arthur had put it there to torture it and so I let it go. I did not mean to do wrong, papa. Indeed, I did not. And the tears fell faster and faster. Indeed, said he, you had no business to meddle with it. Let who would have put it there? Which hand did it? This one, papa, sobbed the child indicating her right hand.  He looked at the downcast, tearful face, the bosom heaving with sobs, and then at the little trembling hand he held, so soft and white and tender, and the sternness of his countenance relaxed somewhat. It seemed next to impossible to inflict pain upon anything so tender and helpless, and for a moment he was half inclined to kiss and forgive her. But no, he had been very much irritated at his loss, and the remembrance of it again aroused his anger and well-nike extinguished the little spark of love and compassion that had burned for a moment in his heart. She should be punished, though he would not inflict physical pain. See, Elsie, laughed Louise maliciously, he is feeling in his pocket for his knife.  Elsie started in the tearful eyes of a raise to her father's face, with a look half of terrified in treaty, half of confidence that such could not be his intention. Hush, Louise, exclaimed her brother sternly. You know you are not speaking truly, and that I would assume think of cutting off my own hand as my child. You should never speak anything but truth, especially to children. I think it's well enough to frighten them a little sometimes, and I thought that was what you were going to do, replied Louise, looking somewhat mortified at the rebuke. No, said her brother, that is a very bad plan, and one which I shall never adopt. Elsie will learn in time, if she does not know it now, that I never utter a threat, which I do not intend to carry out, and never break my word. He had drawn a handkerchief from his pocket while speaking. I shall tie this hand up, Elsie, he said, proceeding to do so. Those who do not use their hands of right must be deprived of the use of them. There, let me see if that will keep it out of mischief. I shall tie you a pain in foot before long, if you continue such mischief as pranks.  Elsie felt deeply bitterly disgraced and humiliated as she turned to obey, and it needed not Arthur's triumphant chuckle, nor the smirk of satisfaction on Anna's face to add to the keen suffering of her wounded spirit. This slight punishment was more to her that a severe chestisement would have been to many another child, for the very knowledge of her father's displeasure was enough at any time to cause great pain to her sensitive spirit and gentle-loving heart. Walter, who was far more tender-hearted than either his brother or sister, felt touched by the sight of her distress and ran after her to say, "'Never mind, Elsie, I'm ever so sorry for you, and I don't think you were the least bit naughty.'"  And while the bitter tears fell fast from her eyes, she murmured half aloud, "'Oh, why am I always so naughty? Always doing something to displease my dear papa? How I wish I could be good and make him love me? I am afraid he never will if I vex him so often.'" Then an earnest, importunate prayer for help to do right and wisdom to understand how to gain her father's love went up from the almost despairing little heart to him whose ear is ever open until the cry of his suffering children and thus between weeping, mourning, and praying, an hour passed slowly away and the T-bell rang. Elsie started up, but sat down again, feeling that she would much rather do without her supper than to show her tears full in eyes and tied at hand at the table. But she was not to be left to her choice in the matter. For presently there came a messenger bringing a promptery command from her father to come down immediately to her supper. Did you not hear the bell? He asked in his sternest tone as she tremblingly took her seat at his side. Yes, sir, she answered in a low, tremulous tone. Very well then, remember that you are always to come down the moment the bell rings, unless you are directed otherwise or are sick. And the next time you are so late, I shall send you away without your meal. I don't want any supper, papa, she said humbly. Hush, she replied severely. I will have no pouting or sulking.  Stop this crying at once, he added, in an undertone as he spreads some preserves and a piece of bread and laid down her plate. Or I shall take you away from the table, and if I do you will be very sorry. He watched her a moment while she made a violent effort to choke back her tears. What is your hand tied up for, Elsie? Asked her grandfather. Have you been hurt? Elsie's face flushed painfully, but she made no reply. You must speak when you are spoken to, said her father. Answer your grandfather's question at once. Papa tied it up because I was naughty. I tried the little girl, vainly striving to suppress a sob. Her father made a movement as if about to lead her from the table. Oh, papa, don't, she cried in terror. I will be good. Let me have no more crying then, said he. This is shameful behavior for a girl eight years old. It would be bad enough in a child of Anna's age. He took out his handkerchief and wiped her eyes.  Elsie tried to obey, but it seemed very difficult, indeed almost impossible, while she knew that her father was watching her closely and felt that everybody else was looking at her and thinking, what a naughty little girl you are. Oh, thought the poor child. If papa would only quit looking at me and the rest would forget all about me and eat their suppers, maybe I could keep from crying. Then she sent up a silent prayer for help, struggling hard to keep back the tears and sobs that were almost suffocating her and taking up her slice of bread, tried to eat. She was very thankful to her aunt Adelaide for addressing a question to her papa just at that moment, thus taking his attention from her and then adroitly setting them all to talking until the little girl had had time to recover her composure, at least in a measure. May I go to my room now, papa? Ask the timid little voice as they rose from the table. No, he said, taking her hand and leading her out to the veranda, where he settled himself in an easy chair and lighted a cigar. Bring me that book that lies yonder on the satis, he commanded. She brought it. Now, said he, bring that stool and set yourself down here close at my knee and let me see if I can keep you out of mischief for an hour or two. May I get a book to read, papa? She asked timidly. No, said he shortly. You may just do what I bid you and nothing more nor less. She sat down as he directed with her face turned toward him and tried to amuse herself with her own thoughts and watching the expression of his countenance as he read on and on, turning leaf after leaf, too much interested in his book to take any further notice of her. How handsome my papa is, thought the little girl, gazing with affectionate admiration to his face, and then she sighed and the tears trembled in her eyes again. She admired her father and loved him oh so dearly as she often whispered to herself. But would she ever meet with anything like a return of her fond affection? There was an aching void in her heart, which nothing else could fill, lest it always be thus. Was her craving for affection never to be satisfied? Oh, papa, my own papa, will you never love me? Mourned the sad little heart. Ah, if I could only be good always, perhaps he would, but I am so often naughty. Whenever he begins to be kind, I am sure to do something to vex him, and then it is all over. Oh, I wish I could be good. I will try very, very hard. Ah, if I might climb on his knee now and lay my head on his breast and put my arms around his neck and tell him how sorry I am that I have been naughty and made him lose his bird, and how much oh how much I love him. But I know I never could tell him that. I don't know how to express it, no words could, I'm sure.  Or if I might only stand beside him and lay my head on his shoulder and he would put his arm around me, it would make me so happy. An exclamation from Anna caused Elsie to turn her head and suddenly springing to her feet, she exclaimed in an eager, excited way. Papa, there's a carriage coming up the avenue. It must be visitors. Please, please, Papa, let me go to my room. Why, he asked Cooley, looking up from his book, why do you wish to go? Because I don't want to see them, Papa, she said, hanging her head and blushing deeply. I don't want them to see me. You are not usually afraid of visitors, you replied in the same cool tone. But they will see that my hand is tied up and they will ask, what is the matter? Oh, Papa, do please, do let me go quickly before they get here. She pleaded in an agony of shame and haste. No, said he, I shall not let you go if it were only to punish you for getting off the seat or I bade you stay without permission. You will have to learn that I am to be obeyed at all times and under all circumstances. Sit down and don't dare to move again until I give you leave. Elsie sat down without another word but two bitter, scalding tears rolled quickly down her burning cheeks. You needn't cry, Elsie, said her father. It is only an old gentleman who comes to see your grandfather on business and who, as he never notices children, will not be at all likely to ask any questions. I hope you will learn someday, Elsie, to save your tears until there is really some occasion for them. The old gentleman had alighted while Mr. Dinsmore was speaking. Elsie saw that he was alone and the relief was so great that for once she scarcely heeded her father's rebuke. Another half hour passed and Mr. Dinsmore still sat reading, taking no notice of Elsie, who, afraid to speak or move, was growing very weary and sleepy.  But at length she was so completely overpowered by sleep as to do so unconsciously. The sound of his voice pronouncing her name aroused her. You are tired and sleepy, said he. If you would like to go to bed, you may do so. Thank you, Papa, she replied, rising to her feet. Well, he said, seeing your hesitate, speak if you have anything to say. I am very sorry I was naughty, Papa. Will you please forgive me? The words were spoken very low and almost for the thob. Will you try not to meddle in future and not to cry at the table or pout and sulk when you are punished? He asked in a cold, grave tone. Yes, sir, I will try to be a good girl always, said the humble little voice. Then I will forgive you, he replied, taking the handkerchief off her hand. Still, Elsie lingered. She felt as if she could not go without some little token of forgiveness and love, some slight caress. He looked at her with an impatient, well. Then an answer to her mute request.  You have been entirely too naughty. Go to your room at once. Aunt Chloe was absolutely frightened by the violence of her child's grief as she rushed into the room and flung herself into her arms, weeping and sobbing most vehemently. What's the matter, darling? She asked in great alarm. Oh, Mammy, Mammy, sobbed the child. Papa wouldn't kiss me. He said I was too naughty. Oh, Mammy, will he ever love me now? End of chapter six, recording by Sarah Kateris.