“Thank you. I was so fortunate as to meet with entire success in the business you entrusted to me, Dinsmore; of which fact I think we shall presently have ocular demonstration.”
“And in that case there will be other demonstrations,” responded Mr. Dinsmore, looking at his little girl with an odd sort of smile.
“I dare say,” Mr. Travilla said, smiling admiringly on her also.
They had turned in at the great gates and now swept rapidly and smoothly along the broad gravelled drive that, winding about through the well-kept grounds, finally brought them to the principal entrance to the mansion.
The carriage stopped, the door was thrown open by a servant who stood there in waiting. Mr. Dinsmore sprang out and assisted his wife to alight, then Elsie.
As the little girl’s foot touched the ground she caught sight of a beautiful little phaeton, to which were harnessed a pair of Shetland ponies, very pretty and exactly alike.
“Oh!” she exclaimed, “we must have company! I wonder who it is with such a lovely turnout!”
“No, Miss Elsie, dar ain’t no comp’ny in de house,” put in the servant, her papa’s man John; “and I kin’ o’ reckon dat grand turnout b’longs hyah. Ain’t dat so, Massa Horace? Yah, yah!”
Elsie gave her father an eager, inquiring, half-incredulous look.
“Yes, daughter, it is yours,” he said, smiling fondly upon her.