“Why, papa!” she exclaimed, “you don’t need an invitation, you have more right in my rooms than even I have.”
“By virtue of being the grandfather of the family, I suppose,” he said laughingly. “Well, then, I will lead the way.”
The baby-house was really very handsome, and the dolls, all tastefully dressed, presented a pretty sight.
“I’m afraid I’m growing rather old to play with dolls,” remarked Elsie, with gravity, when she had given their names and relationship, “but I like to make pretty clothes for them, and that teaches me to cut and fit and sew. And when I’m reading here by myself I like to have Rose on my lap; she seems like a live thing and company for me.”
“You find that pleasanter than studying Latin?” her father said in a playful tone, laying a hand lightly on her head and bending down to look fondly into the sweet child face.
“Papa, I do mean to have that lesson perfect to-morrow,” she said in a half whisper, her eyes cast down and her cheek flushing.
CHAPTER VII.
“Oh, enviable, early days!”
—Burns.
Mr. Travilla left the Oaks directly after tea. Mrs. Dinsmore went to the nursery, and Elsie and her papa were the only remaining occupants of the parlor. He was pacing to and fro in meditative mood, she seated by the centre-table, turning over her new books.