"Near yonder window. Do you remember it, papa?" she asked, looking smilingly at him.
"Yes, I think I have forgotten very little that ever passed between us. You were a remarkably honest, conscientious child—would come and confess wrong-doing that I should never have known or suspected, even when you thought it likely I should punish you severely for it."
"Now, mamma," said Rosie, "won't you go into the hall with us and show us just where papa caught you, and kissed you, and gave you the gold thimble? And then your room and grandpa's?"
"Arthur, have we your permission to roam over the house?" Elsie asked, turning to him.
"Yes; provided you will let me go along, for I am as much interested as the children."
"Come, then," she said, rising and taking Walter's hand, Rosie, Lulu, and Gracie keeping close to her, and Mr. Dinsmore and Arthur following.
Pausing in the hall, she pointed out the precise spot where the little scene had been enacted between herself and him who was afterward her husband, telling the story between a smile and a tear, then moved on up the stairs with her little procession.
Opening a door, "This was my room," she said, "or rather my room was here before the old house was burned down. It looks just the same, except that the furniture is different."
Then passing on to another, "This was papa's dressing-room. I have passed many happy hours here, sitting by his side or on his knee. It was here I opened the trunk full of finery and toys that he brought me a few days before that Christmas.
"Papa," turning smilingly to him, and pointing to a closed door on the farther side of the room, "do you remember my imprisonment in that closet?"