She listened with a quaking heart for the sound of his approaching footsteps; but the minutes and the hours crept on and he came not.
The dinner-bell rang, and Elsie started up full of perplexity and alarm, doubting whether she was or was not expected to obey its summons.
"Oh, mammy," she cried, "I don't know what to do! I don't want to go to the table. Please go and ask papa if I may be excused. Tell him my head aches, for indeed it does, and I'm not at all hungry."
"Co'se, chile, co'se you's got misery in de head after all dat cryin'," replied Aunt Chloe, putting down her knitting to go and do the errand. "Don' cry no mo', honey; maybe massa forgib you, ef you's right down sorry."
"I am sorry, mammy," sobbed Elsie; "oh, I am very sorry; but I know that papa will punish me somehow or other, and I deserve it."
"Maybe not, honey," responded Aunt Chloe cheerfully, then hurried away to the dining-room.
She returned in a few minutes, bringing a very nice meal daintily arranged on a silver waiter.
"What did papa say?" asked Elsie anxiously.
"Not much, honey; only, 'Bery well, Aunt Chloe, you kin take her something when she feels inclined to eat.'"
Elsie's tears burst forth afresh. Was it then a matter of indifference to her father that she was in pain? her father, who was usually so full of loving anxiety at the slightest indication of anything being amiss with her?