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

alarm.

      "O mammy, mammy!" sobbed the child, "papa wouldn't kiss me! he said I was too naughty. O mammy! will he ever love me now?"

      Chapter Seventh

       Table of Contents

      "The smallest worm will turn, being trodden on."

       —SHAKESPEARE, Richard III.

      "A blossom full of promise is life's joy,

       That never comes to fruit. Hope, for a time,

       Suns the young flow'ret in its gladsome light,

       And it looks flourishing—a little while—

       'Tis pass'd, we know not whither, but 'tis gone."

       —MISS LANDON.

      It was Miss Day's custom to present to the parents of her pupils a monthly report of their conduct and recitations. The regular time for this had occurred once since Mr. Horace Dinsmore's return, when she, of course, handed Elsie's to him.

      It was very satisfactory, for Elsie was a most diligent scholar, carrying her religious principles into that as well as everything else; and disposed as Miss Day was to find fault with her, she could seldom see any excuse for so doing, in either her conduct or recitations.

      Mr. Dinsmore glanced over the report and handed it back, saying, "It is all very good; very satisfactory indeed. I am glad to see that she is industrious and well behaved, for I wish her to grow up an intelligent and amiable woman."

      Elsie, who was standing near, heard the words, and they sent a glow of pleasure to her cheeks. She looked up eagerly; but her father turned and walked away without taking any notice of her, and the glow of happiness faded, and the soft eyes filled with tears of wounded feeling.

      It was now time for a second report; but alas! the past month had been a most unfortunate one for the little girl; the weather was very warm, and she had felt languid and weak, and so much were her thoughts occupied with the longing desire to gain her father's love, so depressed were her spirits by her constant failure to do so, that she often found it impossible to give her mind to her lessons.

      Arthur, too, during much of the time before and since the week of his imprisonment, had been more than usually annoying, shaking her chair and jogging her elbow so frequently when she was writing, that her copy-book presented by no means so good an appearance as usual; and never had Miss Day made out so poor a report for her. She carried it with much secret satisfaction to the little girl's father, and entered a long complaint of the child's idleness and inattention.

      "Send her to me," he said, angrily. "She will find me in my own room."

      Miss Day had left Elsie in the school-room putting her desk in order after the day's work, and she found her still there on her return.

      "Elsie," said she, with a malicious smile, "your father wishes to see you immediately. He is in his room."

      The child turned red and pale by turns, and trembled so violently that for a moment she was quite unable to move; for she guessed from Miss Day's countenance what was probably in store for her.

      "I advise you to go at once," said that lady, "for no doubt the longer you wait the worse it will be for you."

      At the same moment Mr. Dinsmore's voice was heard calling in a stern, angry tone, "Elsie!"

      Making a violent effort to control her feelings, she started up and hastened to obey.

      The door of his room stood open, and she walked in, asking in a trembling voice, "Did you call me, papa?"

      "Yes," said he, "I did. Come here to me."

      He was sitting with the copy-book and report in his hand, and there was much severity in both tone and look as he addressed her.

      She obeyed instantly, but trembling violently, and with a face pale as death, and eyes filled with tears. She lifted them pleadingly to his face; and, touched by her evident terror and distress, he said in a tone somewhat less stern, "Can you tell me, Elsie, how it happens that your teacher brings me so bad a report of your conduct and lessons during the past month? She says you have been very idle; and the report tells the same story; and this copy-book presents a shameful appearance."

      The child answered only by tears and sobs.

      They seemed to irritate him.

      "Elsie," he said, sternly, "when I ask a question, I require an answer, and that instantly."

      "O papa!" she answered, pleadingly, "I couldn't study. I'm very sorry—I'll try to do better—only don't be very angry with me, dear papa."

      "I am angry with you; very angry, indeed," said he in the same severe tone, "and very strongly inclined to punish you. You couldn't study, eh? What reason can you assign, pray? Were you not well?"

      "I don't know, sir," sobbed the little girl.

      "You don't know? Very well, then, I think you could not be very ill without knowing it, and so you seem to have no excuse at all to offer? However, I will not inflict any punishment upon you this time, as you seem to be really sorry, and have promised to do better; but beware how you let me see such a report as this, or hear such complaints of idleness again, unless you wish to be severely punished; and I warn you that unless your next copy-book presents a better appearance than this, I certainly shall punish you.

      "There are a number of pages here that look quite well," he continued, turning over the leaves; "that shows what you can do, if you choose; now there is an old saying, 'A bird that can sing, and won't sing, must be made to sing.' Hush!" as Elsie seemed about to speak; "not a word. You may go now." And throwing himself back in his easy-chair, he took up a newspaper and began to read.

      Yet Elsie lingered; her heart so yearned for one word or look of sympathy and love; she so longed to throw herself into his arms and tell him how dearly, how very dearly she loved him; she did so hunger and thirst for one fond caress—ah! how could she go away without it now, when for the very first time she found herself alone with him in his own room, where she had never ventured before, but where she had often been in her brightest dreams.

      And so she lingered, trembling, hoping, fearing; but presently he looked up with a cold "Why do you stand there? I gave you permission to go; go at once." And with a sinking heart she turned away and sought the solitude of her own room, there to weep, and mourn, and pray that she might one day possess the love she so pined for, and bitterly to reproach herself for having by the failures of the past month put it farther from her.

      And soon a thought came to her which added greatly to her distress. If Arthur continued his persecutions, how could she make the next copy-book more presentable? and in case it were not, her father had said positively that he would punish her; and oh! how could she bear punishment from him, when a word or look of displeasure almost broke her heart?

      Miss Day seldom remained in the school-room during the whole of the writing hour, and sometimes the older girls were also absent, so that Arthur had ample opportunity to indulge his mischievous propensities; for Elsie was above the meanness of telling tales, and had she not been, Arthur was so great a favorite with his mother that she would have brought a great deal of trouble upon herself by so doing.

      She therefore saw no escape from the dreaded punishment, unless she could persuade the perverse boy to cease his annoyances; and of that there was little hope.

      But she carried her trouble to her Heavenly Father, and asked Him to help her. She was still on her knees, pouring out her sobs and prayers, when some one knocked at the door.

      She rose and opened it to find her Aunt Adelaide standing there.

      "Elsie," she said, "I am writing to Miss Rose; have you any word to send? You may write a little note, if you choose, and I will enclose it in my letter. But what is the matter, child?" she suddenly exclaimed, kindly taking