them quite by surprise.
Herbert noticed that he had a bundle in his hand, and thinking it was probably some present for Elsie, and that they might like to be alone, slipped quietly away to his mamma's room.
"What is that, papa?" Elsie asked.
"A New Year's gift for my little girl," he answered, with a smile, as he laid it down by her side. "But I know you are tired lying there; so I will take you on my knee, and then you shall open it."
She looked quite as eager and interested as he could have wished, as he settled her comfortably on his knee, and laid the bundle in her lap. Her hands trembled with excitement and haste, as she untied the string, and with an exclamation of joyful surprise, brought to light a large and very beautiful wax doll.
"Oh, papa, how pretty!" she cried, in ecstasy. "And it is as large as a real, live baby, and has such a sweet, dear little face, and such pretty little hands, just like a real baby's—and the dearest little toes, too," she added, kissing them. "I love it already, the little dear! and how prettily it is dressed, too, like a little baby-girl."
He enjoyed her pleasure intensely.
"But you have not come to the bottom of your bundle yet," he said; "see here!" and he showed her quite a pile of remnants of beautiful lawns, muslins, silk, etc., which he had bought to be made up into clothing for the doll.
"I did not buy them ready made," he said, "because I thought you would enjoy making them yourself."
"Oh, how nice, papa. Yes, indeed, I shall enjoy it, and you are so very good and kind to me," she said, holding up her face for a kiss. "Now, with you beside me, and plenty to do making pretty things for this dear new dolly, I think I shall hardly mind at all having to stay in the house and keep still. I'll call her Rose, papa, mayn't I? for dear Miss Allison."
"Call it what you like, darling; it is all your own," he replied, laughing at the question.
"I'm its mother, ain't I?—and then you must be its grandfather!" she exclaimed, with a merry laugh, in which he joined her heartily.
"You ought to have some gray hairs, papa, like other grandfathers," she went on, running her fingers through his hair. "Do you know, papa, Carry Howard says she thinks it is so funny for me to have such a young father; she says you don't look a bit older than her brother Edward, who has just come home from college. How old are you, papa?"
"You are not quite nine, and I am just about eighteen years older; can you make that out now?"
"Twenty-seven," she answered, after a moment's thought; then, shaking her head a little, "that's pretty old, I think, after all. But I'm glad you haven't got gray hairs and wrinkles, like Carry's papa," she added, putting her arms around his neck, and laying her head down on his breast. "I think it is nice to have such a young, handsome father."
"I think it is very nice to have a dear little daughter to love me," he said, pressing her to his heart.
Elsie was eager to show her new doll to Carry and Lucy, and presently sent Chloe to invite them to pay her another visit.
"Bring Mary Leslie, too, mammy, if she will come; but be sure not to tell any of them what I have got," she said.
Chloe found them all three in the little back parlor, looking as if they did not know what to do with themselves, and Elsie's invitation was hailed with smiles and exclamations of delight.
They all admired the doll extremely, and Carry, who had a great taste for cutting and fitting, seized upon the pile of silks and muslins, exclaiming eagerly, that she should like no better fun than to help Elsie make some dresses.
"Oh, yes!" cried Lucy, "let us all help, for once in my life I'm tired to death of play, and I'd like to sit down quietly and work at these pretty things."
"I, too," said Mary, "if Elsie is willing to trust us not to spoil them,"
"Indeed, I'll not spoil them, Miss Mary; I've made more dolls' clothes than a few," remarked Carry, with a little toss of her head.
"I am not at all afraid to trust you, Carry, nor the others either," Elsie hastened to say; "and shall be very glad of your assistance."
Work-boxes were now quickly produced, and scissors and thimbles set in motion.
Mr. Dinsmore withdrew to the other side of the room, and took up a book; thus relieving the little ladies from the constraint of his presence, while at the same time he could keep an eye upon Elsie, and see that she did not over-fatigue herself with company or work.
"What a nice time we have had," remarked Mary Leslie, folding up her work as the dinner-bell rang. "May we come back this afternoon, Elsie? I'd like to finish this apron, and I'm to go home to-morrow."
Mr. Dinsmore answered for his little girl, "When Elsie has had an hour to rest, Miss Mary, she will be glad to see you all again."
"Yes, do come, girls," Elsie added, "if you are not tired of work. I am sorry that you must go to-morrow, Mary. Carry and Lucy, you are not to leave us so soon, are you?"
"No," they both replied, "we stay till Saturday afternoon. And intend to make dolly two or three dresses before we go, if her mother will let us," Carry added, laughingly, as she put away her thimble and ran after the others.
All the guests left the next morning, excepting the Carringtons and Caroline Howard, and the house seemed very quiet—even in Elsie's room, where the little girls were sewing—while Harry and Herbert took turns in reading aloud; and in this way they passed the remainder of their visit very pleasantly, indeed.
Elsie felt her confinement more when Sabbath morning came, and she could not go to church, than she had at all before. Her father offered to stay at home with her, remarking that she must feel very lonely now that all her little mates were gone; but she begged him to go to church, saying that she could employ herself in reading while he was away, and that would keep her from being lonely, and then they could have all the afternoon and evening together. So he kissed her good-bye, and left her in Chloe's care.
She was sitting on his knee that evening; she had been singing hymns—he accompanying her sweet treble with his deep bass notes; then for a while she had talked to him in her own simple, childlike way, of what she had been reading in her Bible and the "Pilgrim's Progress," asking him a question now and then, which, with all his learning and worldly wisdom, he was scarcely as capable of answering as herself. But now she had been for some minutes sitting perfectly silent, her head resting upon his breast, and her eyes cast down, as if in deep thought,
He had been studying with some curiosity the expression of the little face, which was much graver than its wont, and at length he startled her from her reverie with the question, "What is my little girl thinking about?"
"I was thinking, papa, that if you will let me, I should like very much to give Arthur a nice present before he goes away. May I?"
"You may if you wish," he said, stroking her hair.
"Oh, thank you, papa," she answered joyously, "I was half afraid you would not let me; then, if you please, won't you, the next time you go to the city, buy the very handsomest pocket Bible you can find?—and then, if you will write his name and mine in it, and that it is a token of affection from me, I will be so much obliged to you, dear papa."
"I will do so, daughter, but I am afraid Arthur will not feel much gratitude to you for such a present."
"Perhaps he may like it pretty well, papa, if it is very handsomely bound," she said, rather doubtfully; "at any rate I should like to try. When does he go, papa?"
"Day after to-morrow, I believe."
"I wish he would come in for a few minutes to see me, and say good-bye; do you think he will, papa?"
"I am afraid not," replied her father, shaking his head; "however, I will ask him. But why do you wish to see him?"
"I want to tell him that I am not at all vexed or angry with him, and that I feel very sorry for him, because he is obliged to go away all alone amongst