Every day seems like a century.”
—Bryant.
At the Oaks Elsie waited for Annis’s answer to her letter with an eager impatience which she found it difficult to restrain. Her papa was closely questioned in regard to the exact length of time it must necessarily take for the one missive to travel to Indiana and the other to wend its way to the Oaks; then she counted the days, settled upon the earliest possible as the one on which to expect it, and from that on watched the mails, and was sorely disappointed each time one arrived without bringing what she so greatly desired; for the letters from Pleasant Plains were delayed, as will occasionally happen.
On the third morning, when her father, glancing over the letters he had just taken from the mail-bag, remarked, “None yet from Mildred,” “O dear!” she sighed, “won’t you write again to-day, papa? Don’t you think our letters must have been lost on the way?”
“We will wait a little longer, daughter,” he said, with a sympathizing look and smile. “Letters will travel slowly sometimes. You must try to be patient, and perhaps this afternoon’s mail will bring the news we are so desirous for.”
“I wish you would let me write to Annis again this morning, papa, instead of learning lessons,” she pleaded.
“No, my child; I wish you to attend to your studies as usual,” he replied with gentle decision.
She said no more, for she was never allowed to question his decisions or to urge the request he had once denied.
At the regular hour she repaired to her pretty boudoir, took out her books, and set to work at her tasks; but not with her usual spirit and energy. Her thoughts kept wandering to Annis and Mildred, and she found herself repeating words and sentences without in the least taking in their meaning.
She delighted in most of her studies, but Latin, which she had begun only of late, she thoroughly detested. Still her father required her to study it, and she was too docile and obedient to think of refusing; which indeed would have been quite useless, as he was one who would be obeyed.