"Oh, but you must have had plenty of them. Isn't that so? and why did you never accept?"
Elsie dropped the string she had been waving before the eyes of the cat, and looked up with eager interest.
"Yes, I had offers, and one of them I accepted," replied Aunt Wealthy, with a slight sigh, while a shade of sadness stole over her usually happy face, "but my friends interfered and the match was broken off. Don't follow my example, children, but marry if the right one comes along."
"Surely you don't mean if our parents refuse their consent, auntie?" Elsie's tone spoke both surprise and disapproval.
"No, no, child! It is to those who keep the fifth commandment God promises long life and prosperity."
"And love makes it so easy and pleasant to keep it," murmured Elsie, softly, and with a sweet, glad smile on her lips and in her eyes, thinking of her absent father, and almost unconsciously thinking aloud.
"Ah, child, it can sometimes make it very hard," said Miss Stanhope, with another little sigh, and shaking her head rather sadly.
"Elsie, you must have had lots of lovers before this, I am sure!" exclaimed Lottie, stopping her machine, and facing suddenly round upon her friend. "No girl as rich and beautiful as you are could have lived eighteen years without such an experience."
Elsie only smiled and blushed.
"Come now, am I not right?" persisted Lottie.
"I do assure you that I have actually lived to this mature age quite heart-whole," laughed Elsie. "If I have an idol, it is papa, and I don't believe anybody can ever succeed in displacing him."
"You have quite misunderstood me, wilfully or innocently—I asked of your worshippers, not of your idols. Haven't you had offers?"
"Several; money has strong attractions for most men, papa tells me."
"May the Lord preserve you from the sad fate of a woman married for her money, dear child!" ejaculated Aunt Wealthy, with a glance of anxious affection at her lovely niece. "I'm sometimes tempted to think a large amount of it altogether a curse and an affliction."
"It is a great responsibility, auntie," replied Elsie, with a look of gravity beyond her years. Then after a moment's pause, her expression changing to one of gayety and joy, "Now, if you and Lottie will excuse me for a little, I'll run up to my room, and answer papa's letter," she said, rising to her feet. "After which I shall be ready to make myself useful in the capacity of seamstress. Au revoir." And she tripped away with a light, free step, every movement as graceful as those of a young gazelle.
Mr. Bromly Egerton, alias Tom Jackson, was fortunate enough to find Mrs. Schilling at home. It was she who answered his knock.
"Good-day, sir," she said. "Will you walk in? Just step into the parlor here, and take a seat."
He accepted the invitation and stated his business without preface, or waiting to be questioned at all.
She seemed to be considering for a moment. "Well, yes, I can't say as I'd object to taking a few gentlemen boarders, but—I'd want to know who you be, and all about you."
"Certainly, ma'am, that's all right. I'm from the East; rather broken down with hard work—a business man, you see—and want to spend the summer here to recruit. Pitched upon your town because it strikes me as an uncommonly pretty place. I brought a letter of introduction to your neighbor, Miss Stanhope, and she recommended me to come here in search of board, saying you'd make a capital landlady."
"Well, if she recommends you, it's all right. Would you like to look at the rooms?"
She had two to dispose of—one at the back and the other in the front of the house, both cheerful, airy, of reasonable size, and neatly furnished. He preferred the latter, because it overlooked Miss Stanhope's house and grounds.
As he stood at the window, taking note of this, a young girl appeared at the one opposite. For one minute he had a distinct view of her face as she stood there and put out her hand to gather a blossom from the vine that had festooned itself so gracefully over the window.
He uttered an exclamation of delighted surprise, and turning to his companion asked, "Who is she?"
"Miss Dinsmore, Miss Stanhope's niece. She's here on a visit to her aunt. She's from the South, and worth a mint of money, they say. Aint she handsome though? handsome as a picture?"
"Posh! handsome doesn't begin to express it! Why, she's angelic! But there! she's gone!" And he drew a long breath as he turned away.
"You'd better conclude to take this room if you like to look at her," artfully suggested Mrs. Schilling. "That's her bedroom window, and she's often at it. Besides, you can see the whole front of Miss Stanhope's place from here, and watch all the comings and goings o' the girls—Miss Dinsmore, and Miss Nettie and Lottie King."
"Who are they?"
"Kind o' fur-off cousins to Miss Stanhope. They live in that next house to hern, and are amazin' thick with her, runnin' in and out all times o' day. Nice, spry, likely girls they be too, not bad-lookin' neither, but hardly fit to hold a candle to Miss Dinsmore, as fur as beauty's concerned. Well, what do you say to the room, Mr. Egerton?"
"That I will take it, and would like to have immediate possession."
"All right, sir; fetch your traps whenever you've a mind; right away, if you like."
There was no lack of good society in Lansdale. It had even more than the usual proportion of well-to-do, intelligent, educated, and refined people to be found in American villages of its size. They were hospitable folks, too, disposed to be kind to strangers tarrying in their midst, and, Miss Stanhope being an old resident, well known and highly esteemed, spite of her eccentricities, her friends had received a good deal of attention. Elsie had already become slightly acquainted with a number of pleasant families; a good many young girls, and also several young gentlemen had called upon her, and Lottie assured her there were many more to come.
"Some of the very nicest are apt to be slow about calling—we're such busy folks here," she said, laughing. "I've a notion, too, that several of the beaux stood rather in awe of your papa."
They were talking together over their sewing, after Elsie had come down from finishing her letter, and sent Chloe to the post-office with it.
"I don't wonder," she answered, looking up with a smile; "there was a time, a long while ago, when I was very much afraid of him myself; and even now I have such a wholesome dread of his displeasure as would keep me from any act of disobedience, if love was not sufficient to do that without help from any other motive."
"You are very fond of him, and he of you?"
"Yes, indeed! how could it be otherwise when for so many years each was all the other had? But I'm sure, quite sure that neither of us loves the other less because now we have mamma and darling little Horace."
"I should like to know them both," said Miss Stanhope. "I hope your father will bring them with him when he comes back for you."
"Oh, I hope he will! I want so much to have you know them. Mamma is so dear and sweet, almost as dear as papa himself. And Horace—well, I can't believe there ever was quite such another darling to be found," Elsie continued, with a light, joyous laugh.
"Ah!" said Aunt Wealthy with a sigh and a smile, "it is a good and pleasant thing to be young and full of life and gayety, and to have kind, wise parents to look to for help and guidance. You will realize that when you grow old and have to be a prop for others to lean upon instead."
"Yes, dear auntie," Elsie answered, giving her a look of loving reverence, "but surely the passing years must have brought you so much wisdom and self-reliance that that can be no such very hard task to you."
"Ah, child!" replied the old lady, shaking her head, "I often feel that my stock of those is very small. But then how sweet it is to remember that I have a Father to whom I never shall grow old; never cease to be His little child, in constant need of His tender, watchful care to guard and guide. Though