“Slow pass our days in childhood—
Every day seems like a century.”
—BRYANT.
AT the Oaks Elsie waited for Annis’s answer to her letter with an eager impatience which she found it difficult to restrain. Her papa was closely questioned in regard to the exact length of time it must necessarily take for the one missive to travel to Indiana and the other to wend its way to the Oaks; then she counted the days, settled upon the earliest possible as the one on which to expect it, and from that on watched the mails, and was sorely disappointed each time one arrived without bringing what she so greatly desired; for the letters from Pleasant Plains were delayed, as will occasionally happen.
On the third morning, when her father, glancing over the letters he had just taken from the mail-bag, remarked, “None yet from Mildred,” “O dear!” she sighed, “won’t you write again to-day, papa? Don’t you think our letters must have been lost on the way?”
“We will wait a little longer, daughter,” he said, with a sympathizing look and smile. “Letters will travel slowly sometimes. You must try to be patient, and perhaps this afternoon’s mail will bring the news we are so desirous for.”
“I wish you would let me write to Annis again this morning, papa, instead of learning lessons,” she pleaded.
“No, my child; I wish you to attend to your studies as usual,” he replied with gentle decision.
She said no more, for she was never allowed to question his decisions or to urge the request he had once denied.
At the regular hour she repaired to her pretty boudoir, took out her books, and set to work at her tasks; but not with her usual spirit and energy. Her thoughts kept wandering to Annis and Mildred, and she found herself repeating words and sentences without in the least taking in their meaning.
She delighted in most of her studies, but Latin, which she had begun only of late, she thoroughly detested. Still her father required her to study it, and she was too docile and obedient to think of refusing; which indeed would have been quite useless, as he was one who would be obeyed.
But having spent a half hour or more over the morning’s allotted portion, and finding she knew no more about it now than on opening the book, she grew discouraged and sought him in his private room, where he was busy at his writing-desk.
“Well, daughter?” he said inquiringly as he perceived her standing, book in hand, close at his side.
“O papa, this is such a dreadfully long, hard lesson! I can’t learn it!”
“Can’t! ah, that’s a lazy word!” he said pleasantly, laying down his pen to put his hand caressingly on her drooping head. “Surely my brave little girl is not going to allow herself to be conquered by difficulties!”
“Papa, you don’t know how difficult it is for a little child like me,” she sighed. “Why must I learn Latin?”
“Because your father bids you,” he answered in a grave, slightly reproving tone. “Is not that a sufficient reason for a good, obedient child?”
“Yes, sir, but—”
“Well?”
“I was just going to say the lazy word again, papa,” she said, furtively brushing away a tear.
He pushed back his chair and drew her to his knee. “What is wrong with you to-day?” he asked, smoothing the hair back from her temples with gentle, caressing hand.
“I don’t know, papa; it seems as if I can’t study somehow.”
“Do you know your other lessons?”
“Yes, sir; I learned them yesterday.”
“Go and get your books, and I will hear them now and here.”
She obeyed, and recited almost perfectly.
He gave the deserved meed of praise, then taking up the Latin grammar, “This lesson must be learned,” he said, “but I shall not require that to-day. I am in an indulgent mood,” he went on with a fond, fatherly smile, “and you shall have a holiday. Your mamma and I are going to drive into the city, and will take you along, if you wish to go.”
“O papa, how nice!” she cried, clapping her hands. Then throwing her arms round his neck to hug and kiss him, “How good in you! Thank you ever so much. I shall try hard to learn that lesson to-morrow.”
“And will succeed, I haven’t a doubt,” he said, returning her caresses. “Now run away to Aunt Chloe, and tell her I want you handsomely dressed—in the dark blue velvet suit—and at once, for the carriage will be at the door directly.”
“Yes, sir!” And away she flew, her face sparkling with delight.
“Why, darlin’, you looks mighty pleased,” remarked Aunt Chloe, as the little girl appeared before her fairly dancing in the exuberance of her joy.
“Oh yes, mammy, so I am, for I’m going to drive to the city with papa and mamma instead of sitting here studying that hard lesson. And you must please make all the haste you can to dress me in my blue velvet suit.”
“Massa say so? Den dat I will, darlin’, hab you ready fo’ Miss Rose gits her bonnet on.”
Always ready to exert herself for the pleasure of her idolized nursling, Aunt Chloe had laid aside her knitting and taken the dress from the wardrobe before her sentence was fairly concluded.
Her dexterous fingers made quick work with the little girl’s toilet. “Ki, chile! but you is lubly and sweet as de rose!” was her delighted exclamation as she took a careful survey of her completed work.
“O mammy, you mustn’t flatter me!” laughed Elsie, dancing from the room. “Good-by till I come back.”
Hastening to the grand entrance hall of the mansion, she found the carriage at the door; but her papa and mamma had not yet made their appearance. Her baby brother was there, however, crowing in his nurse’s arms.
“Oh, you pretty darling, come to sister!” cried the little girl, holding out her arms to receive him.
But her father’s step and voice sounded in her rear. “No, no, Elsie! he is quite too heavy for you to hold; especially with his out-door garments on.”
“Why, papa, you never said so before,” she returned in a disappointed tone, looking up entreatingly into his face as he drew near, “though you’ve often seen me holding him.”
“But he is growing heavier every day, daughter, and for your own sake I must forbid you to carry him. You may have him on your lap occasionally for a little while at a time, when you are seated; but never hold him when standing.”
Elsie sighed, then brightening, “I was ready in season, papa,” she said.
“Yes, dearest, and I am altogether satisfied with your appearance.”
“As you well may be, my dear,” added Rose gayly, joining them at that moment.
Mr. Dinsmore handed her into the carriage, then Elsie, followed them himself, and taking the babe from his “mammy,” bade her get in also.
“I shall hold Master Horace for a while,” he said, “but if he begins to fret or cry shall hand him over to you.”
The day was a glorious one in late October; the carriage was roomy, softly cushioned, and easy rolling; Dick was a skilful driver; the roads were in fine condition, and the little party were in high health and spirits. Elsie quite forgot her disappointment of the morning and was full of innocent mirth and gladness.
Arrived in the city they spent some hours in shopping, visiting in turn dry-goods, jewelry, book, and toy stores, and Elsie became the delighted possessor of several new books, and a lovely doll to add to her already large family; all gifts from the fond, indulgent father, who seemed ready to give her everything that money could buy for which she showed the slightest desire.
Nor was he less indulgent to his wife; but fortunately neither wife nor daughter was disposed to tax his generosity to any great extent.
They drove to the post-office last, and to Elsie’s great delight found there a letter addressed to her papa from Mrs. Landreth, enclosing a few lines from Annis to herself, both accepting the invitation to the Oaks and mentioning the day set for the beginning of their journey. Mildred also told what route they would take and about how soon they expected to reach their destination if all went well by the way.
“These letters have been delayed,” Mr. Dinsmore said, when he had read his aloud to Rose and Elsie, “and if our friends are not detained we should have them with us day after to-morrow.”
“Oh, oh, how nice!” cried Elsie. “Papa, must I say lessons the first day they’re with us?”
“There will not be another holiday for you until that troublesome Latin lesson has been properly disposed of,” he answered gravely.
“If it isn’t ready for you to-morrow, papa, it sha’n’t be for want of trying,” Elsie said resolutely, though it cost an effort to refrain from again complaining that it was too long and hard for her to master.
But she felt rewarded by the affectionate, approving smile her father bestowed upon her. And she said to herself, “What a very naughty, ungrateful girl I should be not to try my very best when papa has been so good and kind to me to-day! Yes, and is every day. I don’t believe any other little girl ever had such a dear good father.”
And with the thought she lifted her face to his with such a sweet, loving look, as she sat opposite him in the carriage, that he could not refrain from taking her in his arms and bestowing upon her another and another tender caress.
Rose watched them with a beaming countenance. It was a perpetual feast to her to behold their mutual affection.
As they drew near home they were overtaken by a gentleman on horseback. Mr. Dinsmore saluted him with great cordiality.
“Ah, Travilla, how are you to-day? All well at Ion?”
“Quite well, thank you, Dinsmore,” returned the cavalier, lifting his hat with a low bow first to Mrs. Dinsmore and then to Elsie. “Just from the city?”
“Yes; and glad we are reaching home in time to receive your call.”
“Thank you. I was so fortunate as to meet with entire success in the business you entrusted to me, Dinsmore; of which fact I think we shall presently have ocular demonstration.”
“And in that case there will be other demonstrations,” responded Mr. Dinsmore, looking at his little girl with an odd sort of smile.
“I dare say,” Mr. Travilla said, smiling admiringly on her also.
They had turned in at the great gates and now swept rapidly and smoothly along the broad gravelled drive that, winding about through the well-kept grounds, finally brought them to the principal entrance to the mansion.
The carriage stopped, the door was thrown open by a servant who stood there in waiting. Mr. Dinsmore sprang out and assisted his wife to alight, then Elsie.
As the little girl’s foot touched the ground she caught sight of a beautiful little phaeton, to which were harnessed a pair of Shetland ponies, very pretty and exactly alike.
“Oh!” she exclaimed, “we must have company! I wonder who it is with such a lovely turnout!”
“No, Miss Elsie, dar ain’t no comp’ny in de house,” put in the servant, her papa’s man John; “and I kin’ o’ reckon dat grand turnout b’longs hyah. Ain’t dat so, Massa Horace? Yah, yah!”
Elsie gave her father an eager, inquiring, half-incredulous look.
“Yes, daughter, it is yours,” he said, smiling fondly upon her.
“O papa! how good you are to me,” she cried, glad, grateful tears shining in her eyes. “Is it really my very own? and may I get in and take a drive?”
“Yes,” he said, leading her to the phaeton and handing her in, then seating himself by her side, and taking the reins, which John put into his hand.
“The phaeton is just large enough for two,” he remarked, “and the ponies, though small, are quite strong enough to draw us both. You shall have the reins in your own hands presently, and I will give you a lesson in driving, though you already have a pretty correct idea of it.”
“Why yes, papa, you know you have let me drive a little several times. And these pretty ponies are so small I think I can easily manage them. Will you let me drive by myself sometimes?”
“You would prefer my room to my company, eh?” he remarked laughingly.
“Oh, I didn’t mean that, papa!” she cried, blushing vividly.
“I intend to let you drive about the grounds with Annis, or some other friend, when you have become familiar with your new steeds,” he answered, bending down to touch his lips to the glowing cheek, “and I hope, my darling, you will find great enjoyment in so doing.”
A few weeks previous to this Elsie had seen and admired a similar though less handsome equipage, and though she did not ask for such an one for herself, her ever-indulgent father had at once determined in his own mind that she should have it.
He wanted it to be a pleasant surprise, so said not a word to her about it, but talked the matter over with Rose and his friend, Mr. Travilla. The latter undertook to make the purchase for him, and had managed the business to the entire satisfaction of all concerned.
“Papa, you are just too good to me!” Elsie exclaimed.
“Am I?” he asked, putting the reins into her hands. “Now let me see how well you can drive?”
She succeeded very nicely in guiding and controlling her small steeds; so well indeed that her father said she might try it alone in a day or two.
They made the circuit of the grounds, then drew up in fine style before the veranda, where Rose and Mr. Travilla sat watching them.
“Well and bravely done, my little friend!” exclaimed the latter, springing down the steps to hand her from the phaeton, as John took the reins, she resigning them a trifle reluctantly.
“Oh, it’s so nice!” she cried. “Please, papa, mayn’t I drive round once more?”
“No, daughter, this is enough for to-day. Let Mr. Travilla lift you out. You must remember you have already had a long drive, beside the fatigue of shopping.”
Mr. Dinsmore spoke kindly but with decision, and the little girl submitted without so much as a pout or frown. A moment or two spent in petting and caressing the new ponies, her father and Mr. Travilla looking on and listening with pleasure and amusement, and she ran gayly into the house, eager to show her friend the books and toys just brought from the city.
He was a frequent visitor at the Oaks, made much of Elsie, and always showed as keen an interest in her childish pleasures as Mr. Dinsmore himself.
“Isn’t she a beauty, Mr. Travilla?” Elsie asked, exhibiting the doll.
“That she is. She will be your favorite child, I presume.”
“No, sir; she will be valued very highly as papa’s gift, but she can never be so dear as Rose.”
“Rose? which is she?”
“My very largest dollie, the first that papa ever gave me. She’s been with me through so many happy times, and sad times, that I love her better than I can ever love another.”
“Ah!” he said with sudden gravity, for her words carried him back to a time that had been very sad indeed to her and all who loved her.
“Mr. Travilla, may I name this one Violet, for your mother?” she asked.
“Certainly, my dear; my mother will feel complimented no doubt,” he said with a twinkle of fun in his eye. “You must have quite a family, I suppose. Would you like to show them all to me?”
“Ah yes, indeed, sir! if you care to see them. There are more than a dozen, big and little, altogether.”
“It is about time you were having your hat and coat taken off, daughter,” her father said, coming up to them at that moment.
“Yes, papa, I’m going now, and Mr. Travilla’s going with me to see my baby-house and all my family.”
“Ah, won’t you invite me too?”
“Why, papa!” she exclaimed, “you don’t need an invitation, you have more right in my rooms than even I have.”
“By virtue of being the grandfather of the family, I suppose,” he said laughingly. “Well, then, I will lead the way.”
The baby-house was really very handsome, and the dolls, all tastefully dressed, presented a pretty sight.
“I’m afraid I’m growing rather old to play with dolls,” remarked Elsie, with gravity, when she had given their names and relationship, “but I like to make pretty clothes for them, and that teaches me to cut and fit and sew. And when I’m reading here by myself I like to have Rose on my lap; she seems like a live thing and company for me.”
“You find that pleasanter than studying Latin?” her father said in a playful tone, laying a hand lightly on her head and bending down to look fondly into the sweet child face.
“Papa, I do mean to have that lesson perfect to-morrow,” she said in a half whisper, her eyes cast down and her cheek flushing.