Marian listened with deep interest, tears sometimes starting to her eyes as she was struck by the contrast between that life and her own, most of all in the tender fatherly love and care in which the Woodburn children rejoiced, and which had been so sadly lacking in her experience since the blighting curse of Mormonism had fallen upon the McAlpine household.
Lulu noticed her emotion, guessed at the cause, and made an effort to divert the poor girl’s thoughts from the sorrows of her lot, by telling amusing anecdotes of little Elsie’s sayings and doings.
“Of course,” she said, “Mamma Vi began as soon as Elsie was able to talk, to teach her to say the little prayer, ‘Now I lay me.’ She soon said it nicely, but whenever she came to the part, ‘If I should die,’ she would put in ‘but I won’t die!’
“Not long ago Mamma Vi told her she thought she was old enough now to learn the Lord’s prayer. ‘It is a good deal longer than the other,’ she said, ‘do you think you can remember it?’ ‘Yes’m,’ Elsie said, ‘I’ll set it down.’
“Then Mamma Vi began teaching it to her, but she has never succeeded in getting her to say it all right yet, for she always will ask for ‘daily corn bread.’ We have corn bread on the table at least once every day, and Elsie likes it much better than wheat.
“She often says things that make us all laugh. Once Mamma Vi had just finished a very pretty new dress for the little darling and put it on her for the first time; then she took her to Grandma Elsie, who was visiting us, to ask what she thought of it.
“‘See, ganma,’ little Elsie said, walking up to her.
“Grandma Elsie said, ‘Ah! just from Paris?’ And little Elsie nodded her head, saying, ‘Yes’m, ganma, just from parasol.’”
“She must be a dear, amusing little thing,” said Marian. “Is she pretty?”
“She is a perfect beauty!” replied Lulu, with enthusiasm.