"Is grandpa suffering much?" she asked.
"Very much; and at his age—but I will not anticipate sorrow; we know that the event is in the hands of him who doeth all things well. Ah, if he were only a Christian! And Enna! poor Enna!"
Sobs and cries coming from the nursery broke in upon the momentary silence that followed the exclamation.
"Poor little Bob and Betty, I must go to them," Elsie said, gliding away in the direction of the sounds, while Mr. Dinsmore returned to the room where his father lay groaning with the pain of his wounds. Mr. Travilla, Calhoun and the doctor were with him, but he was asking for his son.
"Horace," he said, "can't you stay with me?"
"Yes, father, night and day while you want me."
"That's right! It's a good thing to have a good son. Dr. Barton, where are you going?"
"To your daughter, sir, Mrs. Johnson."
"Enna! is she much hurt?" asked the old man, starting up, but falling back instantly with almost a scream of pain.
"You must lie still, sir, indeed you must," said the doctor, coming back to the bed; "your life depends upon your keeping quiet and exciting yourself as little as possible."