“I wonder if I ought to tell her,” Elsie said to herself, wiping away a tear. “Oh, I don’t want her to know! but I’m afraid it isn’t right to let her think me so much better than I am.”
Just then there was a gentle tap at the door leading into her boudoir. She rose quickly and opened it.
“O Mr. Travilla! I am glad to see you, sir!” she said, offering her hand.
He took it and lifted it gallantly to his lips.
“Excuse me for coming in without an invitation, my little friend,” he said. “I knocked at the other door, but no one seemed to hear, so I came on to this one.”
“Please always feel free to do so, Mr. Travilla,” she answered; “I think you have almost as much right as papa. Won’t you take this easy-chair?”
“Thank you, my dear,” he said, accepting the invitation. “And now if you will allow me another of your papa’s privileges—that of taking you on my knee, you will make me very happy.”
“Am I not growing too large and heavy, sir?” she asked, passively submitting to his will.
“No, not at all; I only wish you belonged to me so that I could have you here every day.”
“Mr. Travilla, I thought you would never think well of me again, never love me any more, after you learned how very naughty I was one day a few weeks ago,” she murmured, blushing and hanging her head.