"Yes, darling, very much indeed, and I hope you will grow more so."
"You loved mamma?" she said inquiringly.
"Dearly, very dearly."
"O papa! tell me about her! do, dear papa," she pleaded eagerly.
"I have not much to tell," he said, sighing. "I knew her only for a few short months ere we were torn asunder, never to meet again on earth."
"But we may hope to meet her in heaven, dear papa," said Elsie softly, "for she loved Jesus, and if we love Him we shall go there too when we die. Do you love Jesus, papa?" she timidly inquired, for she had seen him do a number of things which she knew to be wrong—such as riding out for pleasure on the Sabbath, reading secular newspapers, and engaging in worldly conversation—and she greatly feared he did not.
But instead of answering her question, he asked, "Do you, Elsie?"
"Oh! yes, sir; very very much; even better than I love you, my own dear papa."
"How do you know?" he asked, looking keenly into her face.
"Just as I know that I love you, papa, or any one else," she replied, lifting her eyes to his face in evident surprise at the strangeness of the question.