"Ah, this seems like going back to the dear old times again," Lucy said when their greetings were over, and sending an admiring glance about the luxuriously furnished apartment as she spoke. "I always thought this the most charming of rooms, Elsie, but how many lovely things,—perfect gems of art,—you have added to it since I saw it last."
"Papa's gifts to his spoiled darling, most of them," answered Elsie, with a loving look and smile directed to him.
"Petted, but not spoiled," he said, returning the smile.
"No, indeed, I should think not," said Lucy. "Mamma says she is the most perfectly obedient, affectionate daughter she ever saw, and I can't tell you how often I have heard her wish I was more like her."
"Ah," said Elsie, "I think Mrs. Carrington has always looked at me through rose-colored spectacles."
After a little more chat Lucy told her errand. Her parents and herself, indeed the whole family, she said, had greatly regretted the falling off of their former intimacy and strongly desired to renew it; and she had come to beg Elsie to go home with her and spend a week at Ashlands in the old familiar way.
Elsie's eye brightened, and her cheek flushed. "Dear Lucy, how kind!" she exclaimed; then turned inquiringly to her father.
"Yes, it is very kind," he said. "Use your own pleasure, daughter. I think perhaps the change might do you good."
"Thanks, papa, then I shall go. Lucy, I accept your invitation with pleasure."
They were soon on their way, cantering briskly along side by side, Lucy in gay, almost wild spirits, and Elsie's depression rapidly vanishing beneath the combined influence of the bracing air and exercise, the brilliant sunshine, and her friend's lively sallies.