"I do hope I can find something to do that will be a help to you, papa," she said, as they entered the library.
"I verily believe my dear eldest daughter would like to carry all her father's burdens if she could," he said, laying his hand caressingly on her head, "but it wouldn't be good for me, my darling, to have my life made too easy."
"I am sure it wouldn't hurt you, papa, and I only wish I could carry all your burdens," she replied, with an ardently affectionate look up into his face. "Isn't there something I can do now?"
"Yes," he replied, glancing at the table; "here are papers, magazines, and letters, quite a pile. You may cut leaves and open envelopes for me, that will save me some time and exertion—be quite a help."
"Yes, sir; I'll be glad to do it all. But, oh, papa," and a bright, eager look came into her face.
"Well, daughter, what is it?" as she paused half breathless with her new idea.
"Papa, couldn't I write some of the letters for you? Here is my typewriter that you so kindly let me bring along. I've learned to write pretty fast on it, you know, and wouldn't it be easier for you just to tell me the words you want said and let me put them down, than to do it all yourself with either it or your pen?"
"That is a bright thought, daughter," he said, patting her cheek, and smiling down upon her. "I dare say that plan would shorten my work considerably."
"Oh, I shall be so glad if it does, papa!" she exclaimed. "There is nothing in the world I'd enjoy more than finding myself a real help and comfort to you."
"I have found you both many a time, daughter," he responded, taking up and opening a letter as he spoke, while she picked up a paper cutter and fell zealously to work opening envelopes, laying each one close to his hand as she had it ready.