Holidays at Roselands | Page 4

aware of the fact that my curls grow on two heads."
"I don't know what you mean, Mr. Dinsmore," replied Lucy, laughing again, "but it was one of Elsie's curls I asked for."
"Elsie doesn't own any," said he; "they all belong to me. I let her wear them, to be sure, but that is all; she has no right to give them away."
He turned to his paper again, and Elsie bent over her work, her face flushed, and her little hand trembling so that she could scarcely hold her needle.
"I'm afraid I ought to tell papa," she thought, "that I did give one of my curls away. I never thought about his caring, but I might have known, because when I wanted my hair cut last summer, he said they shouldn't one of them be touched. Oh! dear, why didn't I think of that? I am afraid he will be very much displeased."
"Don't tell him, then," whispered the tempter, "he is not likely ever to miss it."
"Nay, but it would be wrong to hide your fault," said conscience.
"I will tell him," she resolved.
"Wait till to-morrow, then," whispered the tempter again; "if you tell him now, very likely he will deprive you of your ride this afternoon, as a punishment."
So the struggle went on in the little breast while others were chatting and laughing around her, never suspecting what a battle the little girl was fighting within her own heart.
Presently Lucy jumped up. "Oh! I am so tired sewing; come, girls, let's put on our things, and take a run in the garden."
Carry and Mary readily assented.
"I must speak to papa first," Elsie said in a half whisper, "but don't wait for me."
She had spoken low, but not so low that his quick ear did not catch the sound. He had heard her, and laying his paper down on his knee, as the other little girls ran away, he turned half round and held out his hand, asking, with a smile, "Well, daughter, what is it? what have you to say to papa?"
She went to him at once, and he was surprised to see how she was trembling, and that her cheeks were flushed and her eyes full of tears.
"Why! what ails my darling?" he asked tenderly.
Adelaide had left the room a moment before, and there was no one near enough to hear.
"Please, papa, don't be very angry with me," she pleaded, speaking very low and hesitatingly. "I did not know you cared about my curls; I did not think about their belonging to you, and I did give one to Carry."
He was silent a moment, evidently surprised at her confession; then he said gently, "No, dearest, I will not be angry this time, and I feel sure you will not do so again, now you know that I do care."
"No, indeed, I will not, dear papa," she replied in a tone of intense relief. "But you are not going to punish me?" she asked, beginning to tremble again. "I was so afraid to tell you, lest you would say I should not have my ride this afternoon."
"Why, then, did you not put off your confession until after the ride?" he asked, looking searchingly into her face.
"I wanted to very much, papa," she said, looking down and blushing deeply, "but I knew it would be very wrong."
"My dear, conscientious little daughter," he said, taking her on his knee, "your father loves you better than ever for this new proof of your honesty and truthfulness. Deprive you of your ride? no, indeed, I feel far more like rewarding than punishing you. Ah! I had forgotten! I have something for you;" and he put his hand into his pocket and brought out a letter.
"Oh! it is from Miss Rose! dear, darling Miss Rose!" was Elsie's joyful exclamation, as he put it in her hand.
She made a movement as if to get down from his knee, but he detained her.
"Sit still and read it here, darling," he said, "I love to have you on my knee, and if there are any hard places I can help you."
"Thank you, papa; sometimes there are hard places--at least pretty hard for a little girl like me--though I think Miss Rose tries to write plainly because she knows that I cannot read writing as well as big people can."
She was eagerly tearing off the envelope while she answered him, and then settling herself comfortably she began to read.
He watched with deep interest the varying expression of her fine open countenance as she read. Once or twice she asked him to tell her a word, but the most of it she got through without any difficulty.
At last she had finished.
"It is such a nice letter, papa," she said as she folded it up, "and so good of Miss Rose to