ELSIE DINSMORE Complete Series: 28 Books in One Edition. Martha Finley

Bestows on most of mortal mould and birth."

       —BYRON.

      "What are our hopes?

       Like garlands, on afflictions's forehead worn,

       Kissed in the morning, and at evening torn."

       —DAVENPORT'S King John and Matilda.

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

      "Good morning, papa," she said timidly.

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

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

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

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

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

      "No," said her father, answering for her; "once a day is as often as a child of her age ought to eat meat; she may have it at dinner, but never for breakfast or tea."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

      Miss Day glanced at it and said:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

      "So it is—almost as pretty as Roselands," said her father. "Travilla and I have known each other from boyhood, and I spent many a happy day at Ion, and we had many a boyish frolic together, before I ever thought of you."

      He smiled, and patted her cheek as he spoke.

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

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

      He heaved a sigh, and relapsed into silence.

      Elsie wished very much that he would grant her request, but did not dare to disturb him by speaking a word; and they rode on quietly for some time, until a squirrel darting up a tree caught her eye, and she uttered an exclamation. "O papa! did you see