Mr. Dinsmore was regarding his son with a look of stern displeasure, and Horace's eyes were on his book.
"Horace, dear, do as papa bids you," said Rose, with gentle entreaty.
"Leave him to me, Rose," said her husband; "I have given the order, and I am the one to enforce it. Horace, obey me instantly or I shall whip you till you do."
At that stern sentence Elsie almost cried out in fear and dismay, for well she knew her father's indomitable will, and she could perceive that Horace, whom she so dearly loved, that to see him suffer pain was far worse than to have it inflicted upon herself, was just now in a most stubborn, refractory mood.
Probably the state of the atmosphere had something to do with it, for it was a rainy day, close and sultry.
"Me don't want to," muttered the little fellow, making no movement to obey; then as he felt a not very gentle grasp upon his arm, "Me won't!" he cried, with a defiant look upon his father's face.
Mr. Dinsmore instantly administered a pretty severe chastisement, Rose sitting by pale and sad, Elsie with the tears streaming over her cheeks.
Horace cried violently, but still refused obedience to the reiterated command, "Go and get that paper and bring it to me."
The punishment was repeated with added severity, but he stubbornly persisted in his refusal, and the battle went on till his mother, unable to endure the sight, rose and left the room, and Elsie so far forgot herself in her darling little brother's pain that she ran to the rescue, threw her arms about him, and tried to drag him away from her father.
"Oh, papa, don't!" she sobbed; "please don't whip him any more! I cannot bear it."