"Did my little daughter think papa had quite forgotten his promise?" asked Mr. Horace Dinsmore, as again he stood by Elsie's couch.
"No, papa," she said, raising her eyes to his face with a grateful, loving look; "it seemed very long, but I knew you would come as soon as you could, for I know you never break your word."
Her confidence pleased him very much, and with a very gratified look he asked whether he should sit by her side or take her again upon his knee.
"Take me on your knee again, if you please, papa," she said, "and then will you read a little to me? I would like it so much."
"I will do anything that will give my little girl pleasure," he replied, as he once more lifted her gently, and placed her in the desired position.
"What shall the book be?" he asked; "one of the new ones I bought you the other day?"
"Not that, to-night; if you please, papa; I would rather hear a little from an old book," she answered, with a sweet smile lighting tip her little pale face; "won't you please read me the fifty-third chapter of Isaiah?"
"If you wish it, dearest; but I think something lively would be much better; more likely to cheer you up."
"No, dear papa; there is nothing cheers me up like the Bible, it is so sweet and comforting. I do so love to hear of Jesus, how he bore our griefs and carried our sorrows."
"You are a strange child," he said, "but you shall have whatever you want to-night. Hand me that Bible, Aunt Chloe, and set the light a little nearer."