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

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," he replied, severely; "I will have no pouting or sulking; you must just eat your supper and behave yourself. Stop this crying at once," he added, in an undertone, as he spread some preserves on a piece of bread and laid it on 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," replied the little girl, vainly striving to suppress a sob.

      Her father made a movement as if about to lead her from the table.

      "O 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 Enna's age." He took out his handkerchief and wiped her eyes. "Now," said he, "begin to eat your supper at once, and don't let me have to reprove you again."

      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?" asked 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 settee," 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 into his face. And then she sighed, and 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; must it always be thus? was her craving for affection never to be satisfied? "O, 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 round 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 am sure. And if he would forgive me, and kiss me, and call me his dear little daughter. Oh! will he ever call me that? 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 Enna caused Elsie to turn her head, and suddenly springing to her feet, she exclaimed in an eager, excited way, "Papa, there is a carriage coming up the avenue—it must be visitors; please, please, papa, let me go to my room."

      "Why?" he asked coolly, 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," he replied in the same cool tone.

      "But they will see that my hand is tied up, and they will ask what is the matter. O 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 where 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 some day, 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. She longed to lay her head on her father's knee, but dared not venture to take such a liberty; 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 her 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 with a sob.

      "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, in answer to her mute request, "No," he said, "I will not kiss you to-night; 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 de matter, darlin'?"