"Yes, 'Wide, Wide World.'"
"Some namby-pamby girl's story, I s'pose, since you're allowed to read it; or are you doing it on the sly?"
"No, I never do such things, and hope I never shall; papa gave me permission."
"Oh; ah! then I haven't got you in my power: wish I had."
"Why?"
"Because I might turn it to good account. I know you are as afraid as death of Horace."
"No, I am not!" dried Elsie indignantly, rich color rushing all over her fair face and neck; "for I know that he loves me dearly and if I had been disobeying or deceiving him I would far sooner throw myself on his mercy than on yours."
"You would, eh? How mad you are; your face is as red as a beet. A pretty sort of Christian you are, aren't you?"
"I am not perfect, Arthur; but you mustn't judge of religion by me."
"I shall, though. Don't you wish I'd go away?" he added teasingly, again snatching at her curls.