It was now early in the morning, Elsie and her papa were in his room, which was in the second story and opened upon a veranda, shaded by tall trees, and overlooking a large grassy yard at the side of the building. Beyond were green fields, woods, and hills.
"Papa," said Elsie, gazing longingly upon them, as she stood by the open window, "can't we take a walk?"
"When Miss Rose is ready to go with us."
"May I run to her door and ask if she is?—and if she isn't, may I wait for her out here on the veranda?"
"Yes."
She skipped away, but was back again almost immediately. "Papa, what do you think? It's just too bad!"
"What is too bad, daughter? I think I never before saw so cross a look on my little girl's face," he said, peering at her over the top of his newspaper. "Come here, and tell me what it is all about."
She obeyed, hanging her head and blushing. "I think I have some reason to be cross, papa," she said; "I thought we were going to have such a delightful time here, and now it is all spoiled. You could never guess who has the rooms just opposite ours; on the other side of the hall."
"Miss Stevens?"
"Why, papa; did you know she was here?"