"Nobody could ever rule me the way Horace does her!" cried Enna, with a toss of her head. "And as to her being older than I am, I'm sure no one would think it; she is so absurdly childish in her way; not half so mature as I, mamma says."
"I'm glad and thankful that she is not," answered Rose, with spirit; "her sweet childish simplicity and perfect naturalness are very charming in these days, when they are so rarely found in a girl who has entered her teens."
Little Horace, standing by the window, uttered a joyous shout, "Oh, papa tumin'!" and rushed from the room to return the next moment clinging to his father's hand, announcing as they came in together, "Here papa is; me found him!"
Mr. Dinsmore shook hands with his sister, addressed a remark to his wife, then, glancing about the room, asked, "Where is Elsie?"
"She left us a moment since, but did not say where she was going," said Rose.
"I presume you'll find her crying in her boudoir or dressing room," added Enna.
"Crying! Why, what is wrong with her?"
"Nothing that I know of, except that I told her of Herbert Carrington's being so much worse that they've taken him North as a last hope."
"Is that so?" and Mr. Dinsmore looked much concerned.
"Yes, there can be no doubt about it, for I heard it from Harry himself this morning."