“Well, Enna, one thing can be said in your praise—that you are no hypocrite,” exclaimed Carrie Howard, with a scornful curl of the lip, “if you are utterly heartless, you don’t try to hide it with a pretence of sensibility and kindness.”
“You are well answered and reproved for once, Enna,” remarked Mr. Dinsmore with grave displeasure and disgust.
The morning was so fine that the family and guests spent the greater part of it in the open air, riding, driving, or walking. Elsie generously gave up her phaeton to Carrie and Lucy—the other little girls to take their turn afterward—the larger ponies to the boys; but her father and Mr. Travilla drove her and Annis out in the carriage of the latter.
There was a great deal of candy about, every one having received a box of it when the gifts were distributed, and some of the little people ate so much that evening and on getting up in the morning that they brought little appetite to their breakfast; but Elsie had not yet tasted it.
“What is that?” her father asked, seeing a paper parcel in her hand as she came out to take her drive.
“My box of candy, papa. I thought it would be nice to hand round to you all, and perhaps you would let me eat some too. I haven’t had any at all yet.”
“Yes,” he said, handing her into the carriage, “you may eat a little now, and shall have a larger quantity after dinner.”
“Cousin Horace,” remarked Annis, who was already seated in the carriage, “I do think Elsie is the best girl in the world! I don’t believe I could have resisted the temptation to taste a little candy, when everybody around me was eating it, as she did last night.”
“Yes,” he said, looking fondly at his little girl, “she is a good, obedient child.”
Elsie’s face flushed with pleasure at his words and her eyes sparkled.