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

away from Walter, he next sought out Enna, and tried his threats and persuasions upon her with even better success.

      Elsie had gone directly to her own room, where she sat trembling every time a footstep approached her door, lest it should be a messenger from her grandfather. No one came, however, and at last the tea-bell rang, and on going down she found to her relief that her grandfather and his wife had not yet returned.

      "You look 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, in tones 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 in 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 is in the garden, sir, I think. I saw him walking in the shrubbery a moment since," said Mr. Horace Dinsmore.

      The father instantly despatched 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.

      "There, my dear, I told you so," exclaimed his mother, triumphantly.

      "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 Enna; 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 mean to do it any harm; he was only going to wear it a little while, and then put it back all safe; but now master would be dreadfully angry, and have him flogged."

      "That I will, if it is true," exclaimed the old gentleman, passionately; "he shall be well whipped and sent out to work on the plantation. I'll keep no such meddlers about my house."

      He looked at Enna. "What do you know of this?" he asked.

      "It is 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, too, 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.

      "O 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 haste and fright.

      "Why," sobbed Chloe, "Jim, he's been an' gone an' broke ole master's watch, an' he's gwine be whipped, an' old Aunt Phoebe she's cryin' fit to break her ole heart 'bout her boy, kase—"

      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 seizing his hand, looked up eagerly into his face, exclaiming with a burst of tears and sobs, "O papa, papa! don't, oh! don't let them whip poor Jim."

      Mr. Dinsmore's countenance was very grave, almost distressed.

      "I am 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 do 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, drew 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 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."

      "O papa! don't make me; I don't like to do it," she urged, 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," he replied, in a tone of kindness that quite surprised Elsie, who always trembled at 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 he rose, and again taking her hand, led her from the room, saying, as he did so:

      "You must repeat this story to your grandfather."

      "O papa! must I? Won't you tell him? please don't make me do it," she pleaded tremblingly, and hanging back.

      "My daughter, you must," he 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