"As I certainly do my father and mother," said little Elsie Keith, standing near and listening with interest to the talk about the name she bore. "They have often told me I must try to be like the dear lady relation whose name I bear."
"Dear child, may you succeed in greatly improving upon your pattern," Mrs. Travilla responded, smiling upon the little girl, gently smoothing her hair and giving her a kiss.
But now came the summons to the dinner table. By the written orders of Viamede's mistress, sent weeks before, a fine, abundant, luxurious meal had been made ready for the occasion, and soon all were seated about the hospitable board regaling themselves upon all the luxuries to be had in that part of the country at that time of the year.
They ate with appetites, at the same time enjoying "the feast of reason and the flow of soul."
The children had a table to themselves, that they might chatter to their hearts' content without disturbing the older folk, and they fully appreciated the privilege.
"Oh, Elsie Raymond!" exclaimed Mildred Keith, the eldest of the children from the Parsonage, "I haven't seen your tee-tee. Didn't you bring it along?"
"No," replied Elsie; "Ned's couldn't be brought because he was not well enough to care for it on the Dolphin, and wouldn't have felt willing to leave it to other folks to be troubled with; so it had to be left at home, and as we didn't want to part them, I left mine too."
"Oh, that was good and kind in you," was Mildred's answering remark.
"So we won't have the tee-tees to make fun for us with Cousin Ronald's help," said another of the cousins. "But I know he can make fun even without the little monkeys."