The tears gathered in her eyes as she spoke.
The next afternoon, as Elsie was returning from her walk, she met her father.
"Elsie," said he, in a reproving tone, "I have forbidden you to walk out alone; are you disobeying me?"
"No, papa," she replied meekly, raising her eyes to his face, "I was not alone until about five minutes ago, when Aunt Adelaide and Louise left me. They said it did not matter, as I was so near home; and they were going to make a call, and did not want me along."
"Very well," he said, taking hold of her hand and making her walk by his side. "How far have you been?"
"We went down the river bank to the big spring, papa. I believe it is a little more than a mile that way; but when we came home, we made it shorter by coming across some of the fields and through the meadow."
"Through the meadow?" said Mr. Dinsmore; "don't you go there again, Elsie, unless I give you express permission."
"Why, papa?" she asked, looking up at him in some surprise.
"Because I forbid it," he replied sternly; "that is quite enough for you to know; all you have to do is to obey, and you need never ask me why, when I give you an order."
Elsie's eyes filled, and a big tear rolled quickly down her cheek.
"I did not mean to be naughty, papa," she said, struggling to keep down a sob, "and I will try never to ask why again."
"There is another thing," said he. "You cry quite too easily; it is entirely too babyish for a girl of your age; you must quit it."
"I will try, papa," said the little girl, wiping her eyes, and making a great effort to control her feelings.
They had entered the avenue while this conversation was going on, and were now drawing near the house; and just at this moment a little girl about Elsie's age came running to meet them, exclaiming, "O Elsie! I'm glad you've come at last. We've been here a whole hour—mamma, and Herbert, and I—and I've been looking for you all this time."
"How do you do, Miss Lucy Carrington? I see you can talk as fast as ever," said Mr. Dinsmore, laughing, and holding out his hand.
Lucy took it, saying with a little pout, "To be sure, Mr. Dinsmore, it isn't more than two or three weeks since you were at our house, and I wouldn't forget how to talk in that time." Then, looking at Elsie, she went on, "We've come to stay a week; won't we have a fine time?" and, catching her friend round the waist, she gave her a hearty squeeze.
"I hope so," said Elsie, returning the embrace. "I am glad you have come."
"Is your papa here, Miss Lucy?" asked Mr. Dinsmore.
"Yes, sir; but he's going home again to-night, and then he'll come back for us next week."
"I must go in and speak to him," said Mr. Dinsmore. "Elsie, do you entertain Lucy."
"Yes, sir, I will," said Elsie. "Come with me to my room, won't you, Lucy?"
"Yes; but won't you speak to mamma first? and Herbert, too; you are such a favorite with both of them; and they still are in the dressing-room, for mamma is not very well, and was quite fatigued with her ride."
Lucy led the way to her mamma's room, as she spoke, Elsie following.
"Ah! Elsie dear, how do you do? I'm delighted to see you," said Mrs. Carrington, rising from the sofa as they entered.
Then, drawing the little girl closer to her, she passed her arm affectionately around her waist, and kissed her several times.
"I suppose you are very happy now that your papa has come home at last?" she said, looking searchingly into Elsie's face. "I remember you used to be looking forward so to his return; constantly talking of it and longing for it."
Poor Elsie, conscious that her father's presence had not brought with it the happiness she had anticipated, and yet unwilling either to acknowledge that fact or tell an untruth, was at a loss what to say.
But she was relieved from the necessity of replying by Herbert, Lucy's twin brother, a pale, sickly-looking boy, who had for several years been a sufferer from hip complaint.
"O Elsie!" he exclaimed, catching hold of her hand and squeezing it between both of his, "I'm ever so glad to see you again."
"Yes," said Mrs. Carrington, "Herbert always says nobody can tell him such beautiful stories as Elsie; and nobody but his mother and his old mammy was half so kind to run and wait on him when he was laid on his back for so many weeks. He missed you very much when we went home, and often wished he was at Roselands again."
"How is your hip now, Herbert?" asked Elsie, looking pityingly at the boy's pale face.
"Oh! a great deal better, thank you. I can take quite long walks sometimes now, though I still limp, and cannot run and leap like other boys."
They chatted a few moments longer, and then Elsie went to her room to have her hat taken off, and her hair made smooth before the tea-bell should ring.
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. Pompey, why don't hand Miss 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 her breath.
"Well," she exclaimed, "I guess 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, daughter, I don't believe you would," he replied in an unusually kind tone, and Elsie's face flushed with pleasure.
Several days passed away very pleasantly, Lucy sharing Elsie's studies in the mornings, while Herbert remained with his mamma; and then in the afternoon all 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 but little attention to Herbert, as his lameness prevented him from sharing in the active sports which they preferred; 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 at 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 up my arrows for me."
"Thank you, sir," said Lucy, laughing; "Elsie may do it if she likes, but as for me, I mean to take a nap; this nice, soft grass will 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 back against a 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. "Shall I tell you a story?"
"Oh! yes, do; I like your stories, and I don't mind leaving off shooting till you're done," said he, laying