MARTHA FINLEY Ultimate Collection – Timeless Children Classics & Other Novels. Finley Martha
Elsie could hardly restrain her eagerness while he held them in his hand, examining and commenting upon the address, postmark, etc.
But at length he tossed them to her, remarking, "There! if you are done your breakfast, you had better run away and read them."
"Oh! thank you, grandpa," she said, gladly availing herself of his permission.
"Elsie is fortunate to-day," observed Lora looking after her. "I wonder which she will read first."
"Her father's, of course," replied Adelaide. "He is more to her than all the rest of the world put together."
"A matter of small concern to the rest of the world, I opine," remarked Mrs. Dinsmore, dryly.
"Perhaps so, mamma," said Adelaide, quietly; "yet I think there are some who prize Elsie's affection."
Yes, Adelaide was right. Miss Rose's letter was neglected and almost forgotten, while Elsie read and reread her papa's with the greatest delight.
It gave an amusing account of the day's journey; but what constituted its chief charm for the little girl was that it was filled with expressions of the tenderest affection for her.
Then came the pleasant task of answering, which occupied almost all her spare time, for letter-writing was still, to her, a rather new and difficult business, Miss Allison having hitherto been her only correspondent. And this was a pleasure which was renewed every day, for her papa faithfully kept his promise, each morning bringing her a letter, until at length one came announcing the speedy return of the writer.
Elsie was almost wild with delight.
"Aunt Adelaide," she cried, running to her to communicate the glad tidings, "papa says he will be here this very afternoon."
"Well, my dear, as we have already attended to all the business that needed to be kept secret from him, I am very glad to hear it, especially for your sake," replied Adelaide, looking up for a moment from the book she was reading, and then returning to it again, while her little niece danced out of the room, with her papa's letter still in her hand, and a face beaming with happiness.
She met Mrs. Dinsmore in the hall.
"Why are you skipping about in that mad fashion, Elsie?" she asked, severely; "I believe you will never learn to move and act like a lady."
"I will try, madam, indeed," Elsie answered, subsiding into a slow and steady gait which would not have disgraced a woman of any age; "but I was so glad that papa is coming home to-day, that I could not help skipping."
"Indeed!" and with a scornful toss of the head, Mrs. Dinsmore sailed past her and entered the drawing-room.
Elsie had once, on her first arrival at Roselands, addressed Mrs. Dinsmore, in the innocence of her heart, as "grandma," but that lady's horrified look, and indignant repudiation of the ancient title, had made a deep impression on the little girl's memory, and effectually prevented any repetition of the offence.
As the hour drew near when her father might reasonably be expected, Elsie took her station at one of the drawing-room windows overlooking the avenue, and the moment the carriage appeared in sight, she ran out and stood waiting for him on the steps of the portico.
Mr. Dinsmore put out his head as they drove up the avenue, and the first object that caught his eye was the fairy-like form of his little daughter, in her blue merino dress, and the golden brown curls waving in the wind. He sprang out and caught her in his arms the instant the carriage stopped.
"My darling, darling child," he cried, kissing her over and over again, and pressing her fondly to his heart, "how glad I am to have you in my arms again!"
"Papa, papa, my own dear, dear papa!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms around his neck, "I'm so happy, now that you have come home safe and well."
"Are you, darling? but I must not keep you out in this wind, for it is quite chilly."
He set her down, and leaving the servant to attend lo his baggage, led her into the hall.
"Will you come into the drawing-room, papa?" she said; "there is a bright, warm fire there."
"Is there not one in my dressing-room?" he asked.
"Yes, papa, a very good one."
"Then we will go there. I dare say the rest of the family are in no great hurry to see me, and I want my little girl to myself for half an hour," he said, leading the way up-stairs as he spoke.
They found, as Elsie had reported, a very bright fire in the dressing-room. A large easy chair was drawn up near it, and a handsome dressing-gown and slippers were placed ready for use; all the work of Elsie's loving little hands.
He saw it all at a glance, and with a pleased smile, stooped and kissed her again, saying, "My dear little daughter is very thoughtful for her papa's comfort."
Then exchanging his warm out-door apparel and heavy boots for the dressing-gown and slippers, he seated himself in the chair and took her on his knee.
"Well, daughter," he said, passing his hand caressingly over her curls, "papa has brought you a present; will you have it now, or shall it be kept for Christmas?"
"Keep it for Christmas, papa," she answered gayly. "Christmas is almost here, and besides, I don't want to look at anything but you to-night."
"Very well, look at me as much as you like," was his laughing rejoinder. "And now tell me, have you been a good girl in my absence?"
"As good as I ever am, I believe, papa. I tried very hard; but you can ask Miss Day."
"No, I am entirely satisfied with your report, for I know my little daughter is quite truthful."
Elsie colored with pleasure, then calling to mind the time when he had for a moment suspected her of falsehood, she heaved a deep sigh, dropping her head upon his breast.
He seemed to understand her thoughts, for, pressing his lips to her forehead, he said gently and kindly, "I think I shall never again doubt my little daughter's truth."
She looked up with a grateful smile.
"Miss Day has gone away to stay until after New Year's day, papa," she said, "and so our holidays have begun."
"Ah! I am very well satisfied," said he. "I think you have earned a holiday, and I hope you will enjoy it. But I don't know that I shall let you play all the time," he added with a smile; "I have some notion of giving you a lesson now and then, myself."
"Dear papa, how pleasant!" she exclaimed delightedly; "I do so love to say lessons to you."
"Well, then, we will spend an hour together every morning. But are you not to have some company?"
"Oh! yes, papa, quite a house full," she said with a slight sigh. "The Percys, and the Howards, and all the Carringtons, and some others too, I believe."
"Why do you sigh, daughter?" he asked; "do you not expect to enjoy their company?"
"Yes, sir, I hope so," she answered, rather dubiously; "but when there are so many, and they stay so long, they are apt to disagree, and that, you know, is not pleasant. I am sure I shall enjoy the hour with you better than anything else; it is so sweet to be quite alone with my own darling papa," and the little arm stole softly round his neck again, and the rosy lips touched his cheek.
"Well, when are the little plagues coming?" he asked, returning her caress.
"Some of them to-morrow, papa; no, Monday—to-morrow is Sabbath day."
"Shall I bring in de trunks now, massa?" asked Mr. Dinsmore's servant, putting his head in at the door.
"Yes, John, certainly."
"Why, you brought back a new one, papa, didn't you?" asked Elsie, as John carried in one she was sure she had never seen before, and in obedience to a motion of her father's hand, set it down quite near them.