Mildred and Elsie. Finley Martha
had broken the seal, and was already too much absorbed in the news from home to hear or heed what her companions might be saying.
Elsie watched her, as she read, with loving, wistful eyes. "Did your mamma write it, cousin?" she asked, as Mildred paused to turn the page.
"Yes, dear; and she sends love and kisses to you, and wishes I could take you home with me when I go. Oh, if I only could!" And Mildred bent down to press another kiss on the sweet baby lips.
"Maybe my papa will let me go, if grandpa will write and ask him," returned the child, with an eager, joyous look up into Mildred's face. "But I couldn't go wisout mammy."
"Oh no! if you should go, mammy would go too; you can't be separated from her, and we would all be glad to have her there," Mildred said, softly caressing the shining curls of the little one, glancing kindly up into the dusky face of the nurse, then turning to her letter again.
It was with mingled feelings that she perused it, for though all was well with the dear ones beneath her father's roof, and the thought of soon again looking upon their loved faces made most welcome the summons home which it brought, there was sorrow and pain in the prospect of soon bidding a long farewell to the darling now seated by her side – the little motherless one over whom her heart yearned so tenderly because of the lack of parental love and care that made the young life seem so sad and forlorn, spite of all the beauty and wealth with which she – the little fair one – was so abundantly dowered.
As she read the last line, then slowly refolded the letter, tears gathered in her eyes. Elsie saw them, and stealing an arm round her neck, said in her sweet baby tones, "Don't cry, Cousin Milly. What makes you sorry? I loves you ever so much."
"And I you, you precious, lovely darling!" cried Mildred, clasping the little form close and kissing the pure brow again and again. "That is just what almost breaks my heart at the thought of – oh why, why don't you belong to us!" she broke off with a half-stifled sob.
A firm, quick step came up the gravel walk, and Mr. Dinsmore stood looking down upon them.
"Why, what is wrong? not bad news from home, I hope, Milly?"
"No, uncle; they are all well, and everything going smoothly so far as I can learn from my letter," she said, brushing away her tears and forcing a smile.
"What then?" he asked, "Elsie has not been troubling you, I hope?"
"Oh no, no, she never does that!"
"Breakfast has been announced; shall we go and partake of it?"
"If you please, sir. I am quite ready," Mildred answered, as she rose and took his offered arm.
"Bring the child," he said to Chloe; then walking on. "What is wrong, Milly? there must have been a cause for the tears you have certainly been shedding."
"I am summoned home, uncle, and glad as I shall be to see it and all the dear ones there, again, I can't help feeling sorry to leave you all."
"I hope not. Dear me, I wish we could keep you always!" he exclaimed. "But when and how are you to go?"
"Mother wrote that a gentleman friend – our minister, Mr. Lord – will be in Philadelphia in the course of three or four weeks, spend a few days there, then go back to Pleasant Plains, and that he has kindly offered to take charge of me. Mother and father think I should embrace the opportunity by all means, as it may be a long time before another as good will offer."
"And doubtless they are right, though I wish it had not come so soon."
"So soon, uncle?" Mildred returned brightly. "Do you forget that I have been with you for nearly a year?"
"A year is a very short time at my age," he answered with a smile.
But they were at the door of the breakfast-room, and the topic was dropped for the present, as by mutual consent.
CHAPTER II
"O my good lord, the world is but a word;
Were it all yours, to give it in a breath,
How quickly were it gone."
The end of the week found the Dinsmores and Mildred in Philadelphia, very busy with sight-seeing and shopping. Each one of the party was to be furnished with a suitable outfit for fall and the coming winter, and Mildred had a long list of commissions from her mother.
Mrs. Dinsmore showed herself keenly interested in the purchase of her own and her children's finery, languidly so in Mildred's; these procured, she immediately declared herself completely worn out and unfit for further exertion.
No one regretted it; Mildred had learned to rely to a great extent upon her own taste and judgment, and with Mr. Dinsmore's efficient help succeeded quite to her satisfaction in filling out the remainder of her list.
To him fell the task of buying for his little granddaughter, and Mildred was not a little gratified by being taken into his counsels and invited to assist his choice of materials and the fashion in which they should be made up.
Spite of some drawbacks to her pleasure, principally caused by Mrs. Dinsmore's infirmities of temper, Mildred thoroughly enjoyed her stay in the City of Brotherly Love.
It was drawing to a close, when, on coming down from her room one morning and entering the private parlor of their party, she was met by a joyous greeting from little Elsie.
"O Cousin Milly, I'm so glad! Grandpa has got a letter from my papa, and my papa says Elsie must go and buy some pretty presents for all the folks at your home. Isn't that ever so nice?"
"Thank you, darling, you and your papa," Mildred said, stooping to caress the child. "He is very kind, and I know your generous little heart can find no greater pleasure than in giving to others."
"She's a Dinsmore in that," her grandfather said with a proud smile; "they have always esteemed it the greatest luxury wealth can purchase. And Elsie is fortunately abundantly able to gratify herself in that way, and her father has given her carte blanche (subject to my approval, of course); so, my dear, you are not to object to anything we may take it into our heads to do."
He patted Elsie's curly pate as he spoke, and looked smilingly into Mildred's eyes.
"You are very kind now and always, uncle," the young girl responded, returning his smile and blushing slightly; "and I don't know that I have a right to object to anything that is not done for myself."
The entrance of Mrs. Dinsmore and her children simultaneously with the bringing in of breakfast, put a stop to the conversation.
"Well, Mildred, if it suits your convenience, we will set out at once upon this final shopping expedition," her uncle said as they left the table; and her consent being given, he directed Chloe to make Elsie ready to accompany them.
The child was in her element as they went from one store to another, and she chose, with the assistance of her grandfather and cousin, her gifts to Mildred's parents, brothers, and sisters.
At length they entered the largest jewelry establishment in the city, and Mr. Dinsmore asked to be shown some of their best gold watches for ladies.
"I am commissioned to select one for a lady friend," he said to Mildred in a grave, half-preoccupied tone as the jeweller promptly complied with his request, "and I want your assistance in making a choice."
"But I am no judge of a watch, uncle," she returned; "Elsie here could select about as well as I."
"Elsie shall have her say about it, too," Mr. Dinsmore said, looking smilingly from one to the other. "All I want from either of you is an opinion in regard to the outside appearance, while this gentleman and I will judge of the quality of the works."
They presently made a selection of both watch and chain satisfactory to all parties. Elsie chose a plain gold ring for Mildred, and one for each of her sisters, and they left the store.
Elsie whispered something to her grandfather as he took his seat beside her in the carriage.
He shook his head. "Wait till we get home," he said rather curtly; "we are going now to choose the new piano."
It