A Sequel to Elsie Dinsmore
eel 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 d