They hurried into the house, expecting to find their elders seated about the table. But there was no one in the dining-room, and though the table was set, the meal was not spread. The ladies had returned, but were waiting for the gentlemen, who had not yet come in.
Elsie was not sorry. She hastened up-stairs to be made neat for tea, and was down again in a few minutes.
Still nothing was to be seen or heard of the huntsmen, and she began to grow uneasy. Perhaps some accident had happened to her dear papa; maybe she was to be punished in that way for what she began to look upon as an act of disobedience or something very near it.
"Aunt Marcia," she said, drawing near to Mrs. Keith, "what do you think makes them stay so long?"
"I don't know, dear; but nothing serious, I trust. They probably went farther than they had intended. But don't be anxious; I do not see any cause for alarm," was the cheerful, kindly answer.
Supper had been delayed a full hour already, and Mrs. Keith decided that it should wait no longer. "It is not worth while," she said, "for very likely our gentlemen have supped somewhere on the road."
Elsie was unusually silent, and seemed to have lost her appetite. Her eyes turned every moment toward the door; her ear was strained to catch every sound from the street. Oh, what could be keeping her papa?
They left the table, and she stationed herself at a front window to wait and watch for his coming.
Mildred drew near, passed an arm about the child's waist, and with a gentle kiss asked, "Why are you so troubled and anxious, dear little girlie? It is nothing strange that our fathers should be a little late in getting home to-night."