Holidays at Roselands

by Martha Finley

  CHAPTER XVI.

  "Hail, Holy Day! the blessing from aboveBrightens thy presence like a smile of love,Smoothing, like oil upon a stormy sea,The roughest waves of human destiny--Cheering the good, and to the poor oppresse'dBearing the promise of their heavenly rest."

  MRS. HALE'S PRIME OF LIFE.

  When Chloe came in to dress her young charge the next morning, she foundher already up and sitting with her Bible in her hand.

  "Don't make a noise, mammy," she whispered; "Sophy is still asleep."

  Chloe nodded acquiescence, and moving softly about, got through thebusiness of washing and dressing her nursling, and brushing her curls,without disturbing the sleeper. Then they both quietly left the room, andElsie, with her Bible in her hand, rapped gently at her father's door.

  He opened it, and giving her a kiss and a "Good-morning, darling," ledher across the room to where he had been sitting by a window looking intothe garden. Then taking her on his knee, and stroking her hair fondly, hesaid with a smile, "My little girl looks very bright this morning, and asif she had had a good night's rest. I think she obeyed me, and did notlie awake talking."

  "No, papa, I did not, though I wanted to very much," she answered with aslight blush.

  "We did not have our chapter together last night," he said, opening theBible, "but I hope we will not miss it very often."

  Their plan was to read verse about, Elsie asking questions aboutanything she did not understand, and her father explaining and makingremarks, he having read it first in the original, and generally consulteda commentator also. Then Elsie usually had one or two texts to recite,which she had learned while Chloe was dressing her; after that they kneltdown and Mr. Dinsmore prayed. They never read more than a few verses, andhis prayer was always short, so that there was no room for weariness, andElsie always enjoyed it very much. They had still a little time to talktogether before the breakfast-bell rang, of which Elsie was very glad,for she had a great deal to say to her father.

  "It is such a sweet, sweet Sabbath-day, papa," she said, "is it not? andthis is such a nice place, almost as pretty as our own dear home; and arethey not pleasant people? I think they seem so kind to one another, andto everybody."

  "Which must mean you and me, I suppose; there is no one else here," heanswered smilingly.

  "Oh! the servants, you know, papa, and the people at the hotel: but don'tyou think they are kind?"

  "Yes, dear, they certainly seem to be, and I have no doubt they are."

  "And the baby, papa! isn't it pretty, and oh, papa, _don't_ you like MissRose?"

  "I hardly know her yet, daughter, but I think she is very sweet looking,and seems to be gentle and amiable."

  "I am glad you like her, papa; and I knew you would," Elsie said in atone of great satisfaction.

  The church the Allisons attended was within easy walking distance ofElmgrove, and service was held in it twice a day; the whole family, withthe exception of the very little children and one servant, who stayed athome to take care of them, went both morning and afternoon, and Mr.Dinsmore and Elsie accompanied them.

  The interval between dinner and afternoon service Elsie spent in herfather's room, sitting on a stool at his feet quietly reading. When theyhad returned from church Miss Allison gathered all the little ones in thenursery and showed them pictures, and told them Bible stories, until thetea-bell rang; after which the whole family, including children andservants, were called together into the sitting-room to be catechizedby Mr. Allison; that was succeeded by family worship, and then they sanghymns until it was time for the children to go to bed.

  As Elsie laid her head on her pillow that night, she said to herself thatit had been a very pleasant day, and she could be quite willing to liveat Elmgrove, were it not for the thought of her own dear home in the"sunny South."

  The next morning her father told her they would be there forseveral weeks, and that he would expect her to practise an hour everymorning--Miss Rose having kindly offered the use of her piano--and everyafternoon to read for an hour with him; but all the rest of the day shemight have to herself, to spend just as she pleased; only, of course, shemust manage to take sufficient exercise, and not get into any mischief.

  Elsie was delighted with the arrangement, and ran off at once to tellSophy the good news.

  "Oh! I am ever so glad you are going to stay!" exclaimed Sophy joyfully."But why need your papa make you say lessons at all? I think he mightjust as well let you play all the time."

  "No," replied Elsie, "papa says I will enjoy my play a great deal betterfor doing a little work first, and I know it is so. Indeed, I always findpapa knows best."

  "Oh, Elsie!" Sophy exclaimed, as if struck with a bright thought, "I'lltell you what we can do! let us learn some duets together."

  "Yes, that's a good thought," said Elsie; "so we will."

  "And perhaps Sophy would like to join us in our reading, too," said Mr.Dinsmore's voice behind them.

  Both little girls turned round with an exclamation of surprise, andElsie, taking hold of his hand, looked up lovingly into his face, saying,"Oh, thank you, papa; that will be so pleasant."

  He held out his other hand to Sophy, asking, with a smile, "Will youcome, my dear?"

  "If you won't ask me any questions," she answered a little bashfully.

  "Sophy is afraid of you, papa," whispered Elsie with an arch glance ather friend's blushing face.

  "And are not you, too?" he asked, pinching her cheek.

  "Not a bit, papa, except when I've been naughty," she said, laying hercheek lovingly against his hand.

  He bent down and kissed her with a very gratified look. Then pattingSophy's head, said pleasantly, "You needn't be afraid of the questions,Sophy; I will make Elsie answer them all."

  Elsie and her papa stayed for nearly two months at Elmgrove, and her lifethere agreed so well with the little girl that she became as strong,healthy and rosy as she had ever been. She and Sophy and Harold spent thegreater part of almost every day in the open air--working in the garden,racing about the grounds, taking long walks in search of wild flowers,hunting eggs in the barn, or building baby-houses and making tea-partiesin the shade of the trees down by the brook.

  There was a district school-house not very far from Elmgrove, and intheir rambles the children had made acquaintance with two or three ofthe scholars--nice, quiet little girls--who, after a while, got intothe habit of bringing their dinner-baskets to the rendezvous by thebrook-side, and spending their noon-recess with Elsie and Sophy; thedinner hour at Mr. Allison's being somewhat later in the day.

  Sophy and Elsie were sitting under the trees one warm June morningdressing their dolls. Fred and May were rolling marbles, and Harold layon the grass with a book in his hand.

  "There come Hetty Allen and Maggie Wilson," said Sophy, raising her head."See how earnestly they are talking together! I wonder what it is allabout. What's the matter, girls?" she asked, as they drew near.

  "Oh, nothing's the matter," replied Hetty, "but we are getting up a partyto go strawberrying. We've heard of a field only two miles from here--orat least not much over two miles from the school-house--where the berriesare very thick. We are going to-morrow, because it's Saturday, andthere's no school, and we've come to ask if you and Elsie and Haroldwon't go along."

  "Yes, indeed!" exclaimed Sophy, clapping her hands; "it will be such fun,and I'm sure mamma will let us go."

  "Oh, that's a first-rate idea!" cried Harold, throwing aside his book;"to be sure we must all go."

  "Will you go, Elsie?" asked Maggie; adding, "we want you so very much."

  "Oh, yes, if papa will let me, and I think he will, for he allows meto run about here all day, which I should think was pretty much thesame thing, only there will be more fun and frolic with so many of ustogether, and the berries to pick, too; oh, I should like to go very muchindeed!"

  Hetty and Maggie had seated themselves on the grass, and now thewhole plan was eagerly discussed. The children were all to meet atthe school-house a
t nine o'clock, and proceed in a body to the field,taking their dinners along so as to be able to stay all day if theychose.

  The more the plan was discussed, the more attractive it seemed to ourlittle friends, and the stronger grew their desire to be permitted to go.

  "I wish I knew for certain that mamma would say yes," said Sophy."Suppose we go up to the house now and ask."

  "No," objected Harold, "mamma will be busy now, and less likely to sayyes, than after dinner. So we had better wait."

  "Well, then, you all ask leave when you go up to dinner, and we will callhere on our way home from school to know whether you are going or not,"said Hetty, as she and Maggie rose to go.

  Harold and Sophy agreed, but Elsie said that she could not know then,because her father had gone to the city and would not be back until neartea-time.

  "Oh, well, never mind! he'll be sure to say yes if mamma does," saidHarold, hopefully. And then, as Hetty and Maggie walked away, he beganconsulting with Sophy on the best plan for approaching their mother onthe subject. They resolved to wait until after dinner, and then, when shehad settled down to her sewing, to present their request.

  Mrs. Allison raised several objections; the weather was very warm, theroad would be very dusty, and she was sure they would get overheated andfatigued, and heartily wish themselves at home long before the day wasover.

  "Well, then, mamma, we can come home; there is nothing to prevent us,"said Harold.

  "Oh, mamma, do let us go just this once," urged Sophy; "and if we find itas disagreeable as you think, you know we won't ask again."

  And so at last Mrs. Allison gave a rather reluctant consent, but only oncondition that Mr. Dinsmore would allow Elsie to go, as she said it wouldbe very rude indeed for them to go and leave their little guest at homealone.

  This conversation had taken place in Mrs. Allison's dressing-room, andElsie was waiting in the hall to learn the result of their application.

  "Mamma says we may go if your papa says yes," cried Sophy, rushing outand throwing her arms round Elsie's neck. "Oh, aren't you glad? Now,Elsie, coax him hard and make him let you go."

  "I wouldn't dare to do it; I should only get punished if I did, for papanever allows me to coax or tease, nor even to ask him a second time,"Elsie said, with a little shake of her head.

  "Oh, nonsense!" exclaimed Sophy, "I often get what I want by teasing.I guess you never tried it."

  "My papa is not at all like your father and mother," replied Elsie, "andit would be worse than useless to coax after he has once said no."

  "Then coax him before he has a chance to say it," suggested Sophy,laughing.

  "Perhaps that might do if I can manage it," said Elsie, thoughtfully."I wish he would come!" she added, walking to the window and looking out.

  "He won't be here for an hour or two, at any rate, if he dined in thecity," said Sophy. "Oh, how warm it is! let's go to our room, Elsie, andtake off our dresses and have a nap. It will help to pass away the timeuntil your papa comes."

  Elsie agreed to the proposal, and before long they were both soundasleep, having tired themselves out with romping and running.

  When Elsie awoke she found Chloe standing over her. "You's had a berrygood nap, darlin', an' you's berry warm," she whispered, as she wiped theperspiration from the little girl's face. "Let your ole mammy take you upan' give you a bath an' dress you up nice an' clean, 'fore Miss Sophygits her blue eyes open."

  "Oh, yes, that will make me feel so much better," agreed the little girl,"and you must make me look very nice, mammy, to please papa. Has he comeyet?"

  "Yes, darlin'; master's been home dis hour, an' I 'specs he's in deparlor dis minute talkin' 'long of Miss Rose an' de rest."

  "Then hurry, mammy, and dress me quickly, because I want to ask papasomething," Elsie said in an eager whisper, as she stepped hastily offthe bed.

  Chloe did her best, and in half an hour Elsie, looking as sweet and freshas a new-blown rose in her clean white frock and nicely brushed curls,entered the parlor where her father, Mrs. Allison, Miss Rose, and herelder brother were seated.

  Mr. Dinsmore was talking with Edward Allison, but he turned his head asElsie came in, and held out his hand to her with a proud, fond smile.

  She sprang to his side, and, still going on with his conversation, hepassed his arm around her waist and kissed her cheek, while she leanedagainst his knee, and with her eyes feed lovingly upon his face waitedpatiently for an opportunity to prefer her request.

  Miss Rose was watching them, as she often did, with a look of intensesatisfaction, for it rejoiced her heart to see how her little friendrevelled in her father's affection.

  The gentlemen were discussing some scientific question with greatearnestness, and Elsie began to feel a little impatient as they talked onand on without seeming to come any nearer to a conclusion: but at lastEdward rose and left the room in search of a book which he thought wouldthrow some light on the subject; and then her father turned to her andasked, "How has my little girl enjoyed herself to-day?"

  "Very much, thank you, papa; but I have something to ask you, and I wantyou to say yes. Please, papa, _do!_ won't you?" she pleaded eagerly, butin a low tone only meant for his ears.

  "You know I love to gratify you, daughter," he said kindly, "but I cannotpossibly say yes until I know what you want."

  "Well, papa," she replied, speaking very fast, as if she feared he wouldinterrupt her, "a good many little girls and boys are going afterstrawberries to-morrow: they are to start from the school-house, atnine o'clock in the morning, and walk two miles to a field where theberries are very thick; and they've asked us to go--I mean Harold andSophy and me--and we all want to go _so much_; we think it will besuch fun, and Mrs. Allison says we may if you will only say yes. Oh,papa, _do please_ let me go, _won't_ you?"

  Her tone was very coaxing, and her eyes pleaded as earnestly as hertongue.

  He seemed to be considering for a moment, and she watched his faceeagerly, trying to read in it what his answer would be.

  At length it came, gently, but firmly spoken, "No, daughter, you cannotgo. I do not at all approve of the plan."

  Elsie did not utter another word, of remonstrance or entreaty, for sheknew it would be useless; but the disappointment was very great, and twoor three tears rolled quickly down her cheeks.

  Her father looked at her a moment in some surprise, and then said,speaking in a low tone, and very gravely, "This will never do, mydaughter. Go up to my room and stay there until you can be quitecheerful and pleasant; then you may come down again."

  Elsie hurried out of the room, the tears coming thick and fast now, andalmost ran against Edward in the hall.

  "Why, what is the matter, my dear?" he asked in a tone of surprise andalarm, laying his hand on her shoulder to detain her.

  "Please don't ask me, Mr. Edward. Please let me go," she sobbed, breakingaway from him and rushing up the stairs.

  He stood for an instant looking after her, then turning to go back to theparlor, encountered Rose, who was just coming out.

  "What ails her?" he asked.

  "I don't know. Something that passed between her and her father. I rathersuspect he sent her upstairs as a punishment."

  "Pshaw! I've no patience with him. The dear little thing! I don't believeshe deserved it."

  Rose made no reply, but glided up-stairs, and he returned to the parlorto finish the discussion with Mr. Dinsmore.

  In the meantime Elsie had shut herself into her father's room, where sheindulged for a few moments in a hearty cry, which seemed to do her agreat deal of good. But presently she wiped away her tears, bathed hereyes, and sat down by the window.

  "What a silly little girl I am," she said to herself, "to be crying justbecause I can't have my own way, when I know it will not alter papa'sdetermination in the least; and when I know, too, that I have alwaysfound his way the best in the end! Oh, dear, I have quite disgracedmyself before Miss Rose and her mother, and the rest, and vexed papa,too! I wish I could be good
and then I might be down-stairs with theothers, instead of alone up here. Well, papa said I might come down againas soon as I could be pleasant and cheerful, and I think I can now, andthere is the tea-bell."

  She ran down just in time to take her place with the others. She raisedher eyes to her father's face as he drew her chair up closer to thetable. The look seemed to ask forgiveness and reconciliation, and theanswering smile told that it was granted; and the little heart boundedlightly once more, and the sweet little face was wreathed in smiles.

  Sophy and Harold were watching her from the other side of the table, andtheir hopes rose high, for they very naturally concluded from her beamingcountenance that she had carried her point, and they would all be allowedto go to the strawberry party next day.

  Their disappointment was proportionally great, when, after supper, Elsietold them what her father's answer had really been.

  "How provoking!" they both exclaimed; "why, you looked so pleased we weresure he had said yes; and we had quite set our hearts on it."

  "What is the matter?" asked Richard, who had just come up to them.

  They explained.

  "Ah! so that was what you were crying about this afternoon, eh?" he said,pinching Elsie's cheek.

  "Did you really, Elsie?" asked Sophy, in surprise.

  Elsie blushed deeply, and Richard said, "Oh, never mind; I dare say we'veall cried about more trifling things than that in our day. Let's have agood game of romps out here on the lawn. Come, what shall it be, Elsie?"

  "I don't care," she replied, struggling to keep down an inclination tocry again.

  "Puss wants a corner," suggested Harold; "trees for corners."

  "Here goes, then!" cried Richard. "Sophy, you stand here; Elsie, you takethat tree yonder. Here, Fred and May, you can play, too. One here andanother there: and now I'll be the puss."

  So the game commenced, and very soon every disappointment seemed to beforgotten, and they were all in the wildest spirits.

  But after a while, as one romping game succeeded another, Elsie began togrow weary, and seeing that her father was sitting alone upon the piazza,she stole softly to his side, and putting her arm round his neck, laidher cheek to his.

  He passed his arm around her waist and drew her to his knee.

  "Which was my little daughter doubting this afternoon," he asked gently,as he laid her head against his breast; "papa's wisdom or his love?"

  "I don't know, papa; please don't ask me. I'm very sorry and ashamed,"she said, hanging her head and blushing deeply.

  "I should be very happy," he said, "if my little girl could learnto trust me so entirely that she would always be satisfied with mydecisions--always believe that my reasons for refusing to gratify herare good and sufficient, even without having them explained."

  "I do believe it, papa, and I am quite satisfied now," she murmured. "Idon't want to go at all. Please forgive me, dear papa."

  "I will, daughter; and now listen to me. I know that you are not verystrong, and I think that a walk of two miles or more in this hot Junesun, to say nothing of stooping for hours afterwards picking berries,exposed to its rays, would be more than you could bear without injury;and if you want strawberries to eat, you may buy just as many as youplease, and indeed you can get much finer ones in that way than youcould find in any field. You need not tell me it is the fun you want,and not the berries," he said, as she seemed about to interrupt him, "Iunderstand that perfectly; but I know it would not be enough to pay youfor the trouble and fatigue.

  "And now to show you that your father does not take pleasure in thwartingyou, but really loves to see you happy, I will tell you what we have beenplanning. Miss Rose and her brothers tell me there is a very pretty placea few miles from here where strawberries and cream can be had; and we aregoing to make up a family party to-morrow, if the weather is favorable,and set out quite early in the morning in carriages. Mrs. Allison willprovide a collation for us to carry along--to which we will add theberries and cream after we get there--and we will take books to read,and the ladies will have their work, and the little girls their dolls,and we will spend the day in the woods. Will not that be quite aspleasant as going with the school-children?"

  The little arm had been stealing round his neck again while he wastelling her all this, and now hugging him tighter and tighter, shewhispered: "Dear papa, you are very kind to me, and it makes me feelso ashamed of my naughtiness. I always find in the end that your way isbest, and then I think I will never want my own way again, but the verynext time it is just the same thing over. Oh, papa, you will not get outof patience with me, and quit loving me, and doing what is best for me,because I am foolish enough to wish for what is not?"

  "No, darling, never. I shall always do what seems to me to be for yourgood, even in spite of yourself. I who have so often been guilty ofmurmuring against the will of my heavenly Father, who, I well know,is infinite in wisdom and goodness, ought to be very patient with yourdistrust of a fallible, short-sighted earthly parent. But come, darling,we will go up-stairs; we have just time for a few moments together beforeyou go to bed."

  On going to their bedroom after leaving her father, Elsie found Sophiealready there, impatiently waiting to tell her of the plan for themorrow, which she had just learned from Richard.

  She was a little disappointed to find that it was no news to Elsie, butsoon got over that, and was full of lively talk about the pleasure theywould have.

  "It will be so much pleasanter," she said, "than going berrying withthose school-children, for I dare say we would have found it hot andtiresome walking all that distance in the sun; so I'm right glad now thatyour father said no, instead of yes. Aren't you, Elsie?"

  "Yes," Elsie said with a sigh.

  Sophy was down on the floor, pulling off her shoes and stockings. "Why,what's the matter?" she asked, stopping with her shoe in her hand to lookup into Elsie's face, which struck her as unusually grave.

  "Nothing, only I'm so ashamed of crying when papa said I shouldn't go,"Elsie answered, with a blush. "Dear papa! I always find he knows best,and yet I'm so often naughty about giving up."

  "Never mind, it wasn't much. I wouldn't care about it," said Sophy,tossing away her shoe, and proceeding to pull off the stocking.

  Chloe whispered in Elsie's ear, "Massa not vexed wid you, darlin'?"

  Elsie smiled and shook her head. "No, mammy, not now."

  The little girls were awake unusually early the next morning, and thefirst thing they did was to run to the window to ascertain the state ofthe weather. It was all they could desire; a little cooler than theday before, but without the slightest appearance of rain; so the youngfaces that surrounded the breakfast table were very bright and happy.

  The carriages were at the door very soon after they left the table. Itdid not take many minutes to pack them, and then they set off all in highglee; more especially the little ones.

  Everything passed off well; there was no accident, all were in goodhumor, the children on their best behavior, and they found thestrawberries and cream very fine; so that when the day was over,it was unanimously voted a decided success.

  A few days after this the children were again in their favorite spot downby the brook. They were sitting on the grass talking, for it was almosttoo warm to play.

  "How nice and cool the water looks!" remarked Sophy, "Let's pull off ourshoes and stockings, and hold up our dresses and wade about in it. Itisn't at all deep, and I know it would feel so good and cool to ourfeet."

  "Bravo! that's a capital idea!" cried Harold, beginning at once to divesthimself of his shoos and stockings; then rolling his pantaloons up to hisknees he stepped in, followed by Sophy, who had made her preparationswith equal dispatch.

  "Come, Elsie, aren't you going to get in, too?" she asked, for Elsiestill sat on the bank making no movement towards following their example.

  "I should like to, very much; but I don't know whether papa would approveof it."

  "Why, what objection could he have? it can't do us
any harm, for I'm surewe couldn't drown if we tried," said Harold. "Come now, Elsie, don't beso silly. I wouldn't ask you to do anything your papa had forbidden, buthe never said you shouldn't wade in the brook, did he?"

  "No, he never said anything about it," she answered, smiling, "for Inever thought of doing such a thing before."

  "Come, Elsie, do," urged Sophy; "it is such fun;" and at length Elsieyielded, and was soon enjoying the sport as keenly as the others.

  But after a while they grew tired of wading, and began to amusethemselves by sailing bits of bark and leaves on the water. Then Haroldproposed building a dam; and altogether they enjoyed themselves sothoroughly, that they quite forgot how time was passing until thelengthening shadows warned them that it was long past their usual hourfor returning home.

  "Oh, we must make haste home," exclaimed Harold suddenly; "it can't bevery far from tea-time, and mamma won't like it if we are late."

  They hurried out of the water, dried their feet as well as they could,put on their shoes and stockings, and started on a run for the house.

  But they had not gone more than half-way when Elsie cried out that shehad lost her rings.

  "Those beautiful rings! Oh, dear! where did you lose them?" asked Sophy.

  "I don't know at all; I just missed them this minute, and I am afraidthey are in the brook;" and Elsie turned and ran back as fast as shecould; followed by the others.

  "We'll all hunt," said Harold, kindly, "and I guess we'll find them; sodon't cry, Elsie;" for the little girl was looking much distressed.

  "O Elsie, I'm afraid your papa will be very angry; and perhaps whip youvery hard," exclaimed Sophy; "they were such pretty rings."

  "No, he won't whip me; he never did in his life," replied Elsie quickly,"and he has often told me he would never punish me for an accident, eventhough it should cost the loss of something very valuable. But I am verysorry to lose my rings, because, besides being pretty, and worth a gooddeal of money, they were presents, one from papa, and the other from Mr.Travilla."

  "But, Elsie, I thought your papa was awfully strict, and punished you forevery little thing,"

  "No; for _disobedience_, but not for accidents."

  They searched for some time, looking all about the part of the streamwhere they had been playing, and all over the bank, but without findingthe rings; and at last Elsie gave it up, saying it would not do to stayany longer, and they could look again to-morrow.

  "O Elsie!" cried Sophy, as they were starting again for home, "you musthave got your dress in the water, and then on the ground, for it is allmuddy."

  "Oh, dear!" sighed Elsie, examining it, "how very dirty and slovenly Imust look; and that will vex papa, for he can't bear to see me untidy.Can't we get in the back way, Sophy? so that I can get a clean dress onbefore he sees me? I don't mean to _deceive_ him. I will tell him allabout it afterwards, but I know he wouldn't like to see me looking so."

  "Yes, to be sure," Sophy said in reply; "we can go in at the side door,and run up the back stairs."

  "And we may be in time for tea yet, if papa is as late getting home as heis sometimes," remarked Harold; "so let us run."

  Mr. Allison was late that evening, as Harold had hoped, and tea was stillwaiting for him, as they learned from a servant whom they met in passingthrough the grounds: but when they reached the porch upon which the sidedoor opened, they found, much to their surprise and chagrin, that theladies were seated there with their work, and Mr. Dinsmore was reading tothem.

  He looked up from his book as they approached, and catching sight of hislittle girl's soiled dress, "Why, Elsie," he exclaimed, in a mortifiedtone, "can that be you? such a figure as you are! Where have you been,child, to get yourself in such a plight?"

  "I was playing in the brook, papa," she answered in a low voice, andcasting down her eyes, while the color mounted to her hair.

  "Playing in the brook! that is a new business for you, I think. Well, runup to Aunt Chloe, and tell her I want you made decent with all possiblehaste or you will be too late for tea. But stay," he added as she wasturning to go, "you have been crying; what is the matter?"

  "I have lost my rings, papa," she said, bursting into tears.

  "Ah! I am sorry, more particularly because it distresses you, though. Butwhere did you lose them, daughter?"

  "I don't know, papa, but I am afraid it was in the brook."

  "Ah, yes! that comes of playing in the water. I think you had better keepout of it in the future: but run up and get dressed, and don't cry anymore; it is not worth while to waste tears over them."

  Elsie hurried upstairs, delivered her father's message, and Chloeimmediately set to work, and exerting herself to the utmost, soon hadher nursling looking as neat as usual.

  Rose had followed the little girls upstairs, and was helping Sophy todress.

  "Dere now, darlin'; now I tink you'll do," said Chloe, giving the glossyhair a final smooth. "But what's de matter? what my chile been cryin''bout?"

  "Because, mammy, I lost my rings in the brook, and I'm afraid I willnever find them again."

  "No such ting, honey! here dey is safe an' sound," and Chloe opened alittle jewel-box that stood on the toilet-table, and picking up therings, slipped them upon the finger of the astonished and delightedchild; explaining as she did so, that she had found them on the bureauwhere Elsie must have laid them before going out, having probably takenthem off to wash her hands after eating her dinner.

  Elsie tripped joyfully downstairs. "See, papa! see!" she cried holding upher hand before him, "they were not lost, after all. Oh, I am so glad!aren't you, papa?"

  "Yes, my dear, and now I hope you will be more careful in future."

  "I will try, papa; but must I never play in the brook any more? I like itso much."

  "No, I don't like to forbid it entirely, because I remember how much Iused to enjoy such things myself at your age. But you must not stay intoo long, and must be careful not to go in when you are heated withrunning, and always remember to dip your hands in first. And anotherthing, you must not stay out so late again, or you may give trouble. Youmust always be ready at the usual hour, or I shall have to say you mustsup on bread and water."

  "Oh! I think that would be rather too hard, Mr. Dinsmore," interposedMrs. Allison, "and I hope you will not compel me to be so inhospitable."

  "I hope there is not much danger that I shall ever have to put my threatinto execution, Mrs. Allison, for it is not often that Elsie is twiceguilty of the same fault; one talking generally does her," he answeredwith an affectionate glance at his little daughter.

  "Then I call her a very good child," remarked the lady emphatically; "itis no unusual thing for mine to require telling half a dozen times. Butwalk in to tea," she added, folding up her work. "Ah! Sophy, I am gladto see you looking neat again. I think you were in no better plight thanElsie when you came in."

  For some time after this, the young people were very careful to come infrom their play in good season; but one afternoon they had taken a longerwalk than usual, going farther down their little brook, and establishingthemselves in a new spot where they imagined the grass was greener, andthe shade deeper. The day was cloudy, and they could not judge of thetime so well as when they could see the sun, and so it happened that theystayed much later than they should have done.

  Elsie was feeling a little anxious, and had once or twice proposedgoing home, but was always overruled by Harold and Sophy, who insistedthat it was not at all late. But at length Elsie rose with an air ofdetermination, saying she was sure it _must_ be getting late, and ifthey would not go with her, she must go alone.

  "Well, then, we will go, and I guess it's about time," said Harold; "socome along, Soph, or we'll, leave you behind."

  Elsie hurried along with nervous haste, and the others had to exertthemselves to keep up with her, but just as they reached the door thetea-bell rang.

  The children exchanged glances of fright and mortification.

  "What shall we do?" whispered Elsie.


  "Dear! if we were only dressed!" said Sophy. "Let's go in just as we are;maybe no one will notice."

  "No," replied Elsie, shaking her head, "that would never do for me; papawould see it in a moment and send me away from the table. It would beworse than waiting to dress."

  "Then we will all go upstairs and make ourselves decent, and afterwardstake the scolding as well as we can," said Harold, leading the way.

  Chloe was in Sophy's room, waiting to attend to her child. She did notfret the little girl with lamentations over her tardiness, but set aboutadjusting her hair and dress as quickly as possible.

  Elsie looked troubled and anxious.

  "Papa will be very much vexed, and ashamed of me, too, I am afraid," shesaid with tears in her eyes. "And, Sophy, what will your mamma say? Oh!how I wish I had come in sooner!"

  "Never mind," replied Sophy; "mamma won't be very angry, and we'll tellher the sun wouldn't shine, and so how were we to know the time."

  Elsie was ready first, but waited a moment for Sophy, and they went downtogether. Her first sensation on entering the room and seeing that herfather's chair was empty, was certainly one of relief. When her eyesought Mrs. Allison's face, it was quite as pleasant as usual.

  "You are rather late, little girls," she said in a cheerful tone, "but asyou are usually so punctual, we will have to excuse you this once. Come,take your places."

  "It was cloudy, you know, mamma, and we couldn't see the sun," saidHarold, who was already at the table.

  "Very well, Harold, you must try to guess better next time. Rose, helpElsie to some of that omelet and a bit of the cold tongue."

  "No, thank you, ma'am; papa does not allow me to eat meat at night," saidthe little girl resolutely, turning her eyes away from the tempting dish.

  "Ah! I forgot, but you can eat the omelet, dear," Mrs. Allison said;"and help her to the honey, and a piece of that cheese, Rose, and putsome butter on her plate."

  It cost Elsie quite a struggle, for she was as fond of good things asother children, but she said firmly, "No, thank you, ma'am, I should likethe omelet, and the honey and the cheese too, very much, but as I waslate to-night, I can only have dry bread, because you know my papa saidso."

  Harold spoke up earnestly. "But, mamma, it wasn't her fault; she wantedto come home in time, and Sophy and I wouldn't."

  "No, mamma, it wasn't her fault at all," said Sophy, eagerly, "and so sheneedn't have just bread, need she?"

  "No, Elsie dear, I think not. Do, dear child, let me help you tosomething; here's a saucer of berries and cream; won't you take it?I feel quite sure your papa would not insist upon the bread and waterif he were here, and I am sorry he and Edward happen to be away to tea."

  "As it was not your fault, Elsie dear, I think you might venture," saidRose, kindly. "I wouldn't want you to disobey your papa, but under thecircumstances, I don't think that it would be disobedience."

  "You are very kind, Miss Rose, but you don't know papa as well as I do,"Elsie replied, a little sadly. "He told me I must always be in in time tobe ready for tea, and he says nothing excuses disobedience; and you knowI could have come in without the others; so I feel quite sure I shouldget nothing but bread for my supper if he were here."

  "Well, dear, I am very sorry, but if you think it is really your duty tosup on dry bread, we will all honor you for doing it," Mrs. Allison said.

  And then the matter dropped, and Elsie quietly ate her slice of bread anddrank a little cold water, then went out to play on the lawn with theothers.

  "Did you ever see such a perfectly conscientious child?" said Mrs.Allison to Rose. "Dear little thing! I could hardly stand it to see hereating that dry bread, when the rest were enjoying all the luxuries ofthe table."

  "No, mamma, it fairly made my heart ache. I shall tell her father allabout it when he comes in. Don't you think, mamma, he is rather toostrict and particular with her?"

  "I don't know, Rose, dear; I'm afraid she is much better trained thanmine; and he certainly is very fond of her, and quite indulgent in somerespects."

  "Fond of her! yes, indeed he is, and she loves him with her whole heart.Ah! mamma, you don't know how glad it makes me to see it. The poor littlething seemed to be literally famishing for love when I first knew her."

  When Elsie had done anything which she knew would displease her father,she never could rest satisfied until she had confessed it and beenforgiven. Through all her play that evening she was conscious of aburden on her heart; and every now and then her eyes were turnedwistfully in the direction from which she expected him to come. Butthe clock struck eight, and there were no signs of his approach, andsoon it was half-past, and she found she must go to bed without seeinghim. She sighed several times while Chloe was undressing her, and justas she was about leaving her, said, "If papa comes home before I go tosleep, mammy, please ask him to let me come to him for one minute."

  "I will, darlin'; but don't you try for to stay awake; kase maybe massaain't gwine be home till berry late, an' den he might be vexed wid you."

  It was nearly ten o'clock when Mr. Dinsmore returned, and he wastalking on the piazza with Mr. and Miss Allison for nearly half anhour afterwards; but Chloe was patiently waiting for him, and meetinghim in the hall on the way to his room, presented Elsie's request.

  "Yes," he said, "see if she is awake, but don't disturb her if she isnot."

  Chloe softly opened the door, and the little girl started up, asking inan eager whisper, "Did he say I might come, mammy?"

  "Yes, darlin'," said Chloe, lifting her in her arms and setting herdown on the floor. And then the little fairy-like figure in its whitenight-dress stole softly out into the hall, and ran with swift, noiselesssteps across it, and into the open door of Mr. Dinsmore's room.

  He caught her in his arms and kissed her several times with passionatefondness. Then sitting down with her on his knee, he asked tenderly,"What does my darling want with papa to-night?"

  "I wanted to tell you that I was very naughty this afternoon, and didn'tget home until just as the tea-bell rang."

  "And you were very glad to find that papa was not here to make you supupon bread and water, eh?"

  "No, papa, I didn't eat anything else," she said in a hurt tone; "Iwouldn't take such a mean advantage of your absence."

  "No, dearest, I know you would not. I know my little girl is the soulof honor," he said, soothingly, pressing another kiss on her cheek;"and besides, I have just heard the whole story from Miss Rose and hermother."

  "And you _wouldn't_ have let me have anything but bread, papa, wouldyou?" she asked, raising her head to look up in his face.

  "No, dear, nothing else, for you know I must keep my word, however tryingit may be to my feelings."

  "Yes, papa; and I am so glad you do, because then I always know just whatto expect. You are not angry with me now, papa?"

  "No, darling, not in the very least; you are entirely forgiven. And now Iwant you to go back to your bed, and try to get a good night's sleep, andbe ready to come to me in the morning. So good-night, my pet, my preciousone. God bless and keep my darling. May He ever cause His face to shineupon you, and give you peace."

  He held her to his heart a moment, then let her go: and she glided backto her room, and laid her head on her pillow to sleep sweetly, and dreamhappy dreams of her father's love and tenderness.

  She was with him again the next morning, an hour before it was time forthe breakfast-bell to ring, sitting on his knee beside the open window,chatting and laughing as gleefully as the birds were singing on the treesoutside.

  "What do you think of this?" he asked, laying an open jewel-case in herlap.

  She looked down, and there, contrasting so prettily with the dark bluevelvet lining, lay a beautiful gold chain and a tiny gold watch set withpearls all around its edge.

  "Oh, papa!" she cried, "is it for me?"

  "Yes, my pet. Do you like it?"

  "Indeed I do, papa! it is just as lovely as it can be!" she said, takingit up and turning it ab
out in her hands. "It looks like mamma's, onlybrighter, and newer; and this is a different kind of chain from hers."

  "Yes, that is entirely new; but the watch is the one she wore. It is anexcellent one, and I have had it put in order for her daughter to wear.I think you are old enough to need it now, and to take proper care ofit."

  "I shall try to, indeed. Dear, darling mamma! I would rather have herwatch than any other," she murmured, a shade of tender sadness comingover her face for a moment. Then, looking up brightly, "Thank you, papa,"she said, giving him a hug and a kiss; "it was so kind in you to do it.Was that what you went to the city for yesterday?"

  "It was my principal errand there."

  "And now how sorry and ashamed I should be if I had taken advantage ofyour absence to eat all sorts of good things."

  "I think we are never sorry for doing our duty," her father said, softlystroking her hair, "and I think, too, that my little girl quite deservesthe watch."

  "And I'm _so_ glad to have it!" she cried, holding it up, and gazing atit with a face full of delight. "I must run and show it to Sophy!"

  She was getting down from his knee; but he drew her back. "Wait a little,daughter; I have something to tell you."

  "What, papa?"

  "We have paid our friends a very long visit, and I think it is time forus to go, if we would not have them grow weary of us: so I have decidedto leave Elmgrove to-morrow."

  "Have you, papa? I like to travel, but I shall be so sorry to leaveSophy, and Miss Rose, and all the rest; they are so kind, and I have hadsuch a pleasant time with them."

  "I have told you the bad news first," he said, smiling; "now I have somegood. We are going to take a trip through New England and the State ofNew York; and Miss Rose and Mr. Edward have promised to accompany us: soyou see you will not have to part with them just yet."

  Elsie clapped her hands at this piece of good news.

  "O papa, how pleasant it will be! Dear, _dear_ Miss Rose; I am so gladshe is going."

  "And Mr. Edward?"

  "Yes, papa, I like him too, but I love Miss Rose the best of all. Don'tyou, papa?"

  Her father only smiled, and said "Miss Rose was very lovely, certainly."

  The breakfast-bell rang, and she ran down, eager to show her watch. Itwas much admired by all; but there was great lamentation, especiallyamongst the younger members of the family, when it was announced thattheir guests were to leave them so soon.

  "Why couldn't Elsie stay always?" they asked. "Why couldn't she live withthem? they would only be too glad to have her."

  Mr. Dinsmore laughed, and told them he could not possibly spare Elsie,for she was his only child, and he had no one else to share his home.

  "But you may stay too, Mr. Dinsmore," said Sophy; "there's plenty ofroom, and mamma and Rose like to have you read to them."

  Rose blushed, and shook her head at Sophy, and Mr. Dinsmore replied thatit would be very pleasant to live at Elmgrove, but that Elsie and he hada home of their own to which they must soon return, and where she wouldbe very glad to receive a visit from any or all of them.

  CHAPTER XVII.

  "Have you arranged your plans in regard to what places you will visitand in what order you will take them?" asked Mr. Allison, addressing Mr.Dinsmore.

  "We have not," he replied; "that is, not very definitely; only that wewill visit New England and New York."

  "Elsie looks as if she could make a suggestion," remarked Miss Rose, witha smiling glance at the bright, animated face of the little girl.

  "I should like to if I were old enough," said the child, dropping hereyes and blushing as she perceived that at that moment she was the objectof the attention of every one at the table.

  "We will consider you so, my dear," laughed Mr. Allison. "Come, give usthe benefit of your ideas."

  Still Elsie hesitated till her father said pleasantly, "Yes, daughter,let us have them. We can reject or adopt them as we see fit."

  "Yes, papa," she returned. "I was just thinking that Valley Forge andPaoli are both in this State, and I should like very much to see themboth."

  "I call that a very good idea," said Mr. Edward Allison. "I have alwaysintended to visit those historical places, but have never done so yet."

  "Then let us go," said Rose, "for I, too, should like very much to seethem; if the plan suits you, Mr. Dinsmore," she added, giving him asmiling glance.

  "Perfectly," he said; "it will be a new and interesting experience to me,as I have never visited either spot, though quite familiar with theirhistory, as doubtless you all are."

  "Then we may consider that matter as settled," remarked Edward withsatisfaction.

  Elsie hardly knew whether to be more glad or sorry when the time came forthe final leave-taking; but the joyful thought that Miss Rose was toaccompany them fairly turned the scale in favor of the former feeling;and though she brushed away a tear or two at parting from Sophy, she setoff with a bright and happy face.

  They spent several weeks most delightfully in travelling about from placeto place, going first to Valley Forge--a little valley so called becausea man named Isaac Potts had a forge there on a creek which empties intothe Schuylkill River. He was an extensive iron manufacturer. The valleyis a deep, short hollow, seemingly scooped out from a low, ruggedmountain.

  The Americans had their camp on a range of hills back of the village,Washington his quarters at the house of Isaac Potts. It was a stonebuilding standing near the mouth of the creek. Our friends were invitedin by a cheerful old lady living there, and shown Washington's room. Itwas very small, but they found it interesting. The old lady took theminto it, and, leading-the way to an east window, said: "From hereWashington could look to those slopes yonder and see a large part of hiscamp." Then, lifting a blue sill, she showed a little trap-door andbeneath it a cavity, which she said had been arranged by Washington asa hiding place for his papers.

  On leaving that house, our little party went to view the ruins of an oldflour-mill near by.

  "This was going in those revolutionary days," said the old lady, who wasstill with them, "and soon after the battle of Brandywine, before theencampment in this valley, the Americans had a large quantity of storeshere in this mill. Washington heard that the British General Howe hadsent troops to destroy them, and he sent some of his men, under AlexanderHamilton and Captain Henry Lee, to get ahead of the British; which theydid. Knowing there was danger of a surprise, they had a flat-bottomedboat ready to cross the river in, and two videttes out on the hill to thesouth yonder"--pointing with her finger. "Well, the soldiers had crossedthe river and were just going to begin the work they had come to do, whenthe guns of the videttes were heard, and they were seen running down thehill with the British close after them. Lee, the videttes, and four ofthe other men ran across the bridge--the enemy sending a shower ofbullets after them--while the others, with Hamilton, took to the boat.They were fired upon too, but got away safely. The two parties had gotseparated, and neither one knew just how the other had fared. Lee sent anote to Washington telling his fears for Hamilton and his men; and whileWashington was reading it Hamilton rode up with a face full of distress,and began telling the general his fears for Lee; then Washington relievedhim by handing him Lee's note to read."

  Our party thanked the old lady for her story, and Mr. Dinsmore asked whatmore there was to see.

  "There's an observatory over yonder on that south hill," she said,pointing to it. "It was there a large part of the American army wasquartered--on the hill, I mean. If you go up to the top of the buildingyou can see a good deal of the camping ground from it."

  "Thank you," he returned, slipping a silver dollar into her hand. "Weare all greatly obliged for your kindness in showing us about thisinteresting place and refreshing our memories in regard to its history."

  The others thanked her also; then taking a carriage they drove to theobservatory she had pointed out.

  They were told that it stood on the spot where Washington's marquee wasplaced on his arrival at Valley Fo
rge. It was a neat octagonal structureabout forty feet high, with a spiral staircase in the centre leading upto an open gallery on the top. They went up, and found it gave them afine view of the greater part of what had been the camping ground. "Ourtroops came here from Whitemarsh, if my memory serves me right," saidEdward Allison.

  "Yes," assented Mr. Dinsmore. "It was Washington's decision that theyshould do so, as here he would be near enough to watch the movements ofthe British army, then in possession of Philadelphia. He wished, for onething, to keep the foraging parties in check, protecting the people fromtheir depredations."

  "Wasn't it in the winter they were here, papa?" asked Elsie.

  "Yes; and the poor fellows found it terribly cold; especially for men sopoorly provided as they were with what are esteemed by most civilizedpeople as the barest necessities of life--food, clothing, shoes, andblankets."

  "Yes, I remember reading about it--how their poor feet bled on the groundas they marched over it, with neither shoes nor stockings," said Elsie,tears springing to her eyes as she spoke. "And didn't they suffer fromhunger too, papa?"

  "Yes, they did, poor fellows!" he sighed. "They endured a great deal inthe hope of winning freedom for themselves, their children, and theircountry. They had not even material to raise their beds from the ground,and in consequence many sickened and died from the dampness."

  "It is really wonderful how they bore it all," said Edward. "Theycertainly must have been true and ardent patriots."

  "We were told that Washington's marquee stood just here in that time,"said Elsie. "What did he want with it when he had a room in Mr. Potts'house?"

  "He occupied the marquee only while his men were building their huts,"explained her father, "then afterward took up his quarters in thathouse."

  Our party now returned to their carriage and drove to Paoli--some ninemiles distant. They were told that the place of the massacre was abouta quarter of a mile from the highway, and leaving their vehicle at thenearest point, they followed a path leading through open fields till theycame to the monument. They found it a blue clouded marble pedestal,surmounted by a white marble pyramid, standing over the broad grave inwhich lie the remains of the fifty-three Americans found in that fieldthe morning after the massacre, and buried by the neighboring farmers.

  "Papa," said Elsie, "won't you please go over the story?"

  "If a short rehearsal will not be unpleasant to our friends," he answeredkindly.

  Both Rose and Edward assured him they would be glad to listen to it, andhe at once began.

  "It was but a few days after the battle of Brandywine that Wayne was herewith about fifteen hundred men and four pieces of cannon, Washingtonhaving given him directions to annoy the enemy's rear and try to cut offhis baggage train. This place was some two or three miles southwest ofthe British lines, away from the public roads, and at that time coveredwith a forest.

  "But for the treachery of a Tory the British would have known nothing ofthe whereabouts of these patriots who were struggling to free theircountry from unbearable oppression. But Howe, learning it all from theTory, resolved to attempt to surprise and slaughter the Americans. Hedespatched General Grey (who was afterwards a murderer and plunderer atTappan and along the New England coast) to steal upon the patriot camp atnight and destroy as many as he could.

  "Wayne heard that something of the kind was intended, but did not believeit. Still, he took every precaution; ordered his men to sleep on theirarms with their ammunition under their coats--to keep it dry I suppose,as the night was dark and stormy.

  "Grey and his men marched stealthily on them in the night, passingthrough the woods and up a narrow defile. It was about one o'clock in themorning that they gained Wayne's left. Grey was a most cruel wretch,called the no-flint general because of his orders to his soldiers to takethe flints from their guns; his object being to compel them to use thebayonet; his orders were to rush upon the patriots with the bayonet andgive no quarter. In that way, in the darkness and silence, they killedseveral of the pickets near the highway.

  "The patrolling officer missed these men, his suspicions were aroused,and he hastened with his news to Wayne's tent. Wayne at once paraded hismen, but unfortunately in the light of his fires, which enabled the enemyto see and shoot them down. Grey and his men came on in silence, but withthe fierceness of tigers; they leaped from the thick darkness upon theAmericans, who did not know from which quarter to expect them. TheAmericans fired several volleys, but so sudden and violent was the attackthat their column was at once broken into fragments, and they fled inconfusion. One hundred and fifty Americans were killed and wounded inthis assault. It is said that some of the wounded were cruelly butcheredafter surrendering and asking for quarter. But for Wayne's coolness andskill his whole command would have been killed or taken prisoners. Hequickly rallied a few companies, ordered Colonel Humpton to wheel theline, and with the cavalry and a part of the infantry successfullycovered a retreat."

  "Then did all who had not already been killed get away from the British,papa?" asked Elsie.

  "Not quite all; they captured between seventy and eighty men, taking,besides, a good many small arms, two pieces of cannon, and eightwagon-loads of baggage and stores."

  "Weren't some of the British killed?" she asked.

  "Only one captain and three privates; and four men were wounded."

  The story was finished, and having seen all there was to see inconnection with it, our travellers went on their way and pursued theirjourney, not feeling at all hurried, seeing all they wanted to see, andstopping to rest whenever they felt the need of it. Elsie enjoyed it allthoroughly. There was no abatement of the tender, watchful care herfather had bestowed upon her in their former journey, and added to thatwas the pleasant companionship of Miss Rose and her brother.

  Mr. Edward was very kind and attentive to both his sister and Elsie,always thinking of something to please them or add to their comfort; andboth he and Rose treated the little girl as though she were a dear,younger sister.

  Elsie was seldom absent from her father's side for many minutes, yetsometimes in their walks she found herself left to Mr. Edward's care,while Rose had Mr. Dinsmore's arm. But that did not trouble the littlegirl; for loving them both so dearly, she was very anxious that theyshould like each other; and then she could leave Mr. Edward and run toher papa whenever she pleased, sure of being always received with thesame loving smile, and not at all as though they felt that she was inthe way.