something for you;" and he put his hand into his pocket and brought out
a letter.

"Oh! it is from Miss Rose! dear, darling Miss Rose!" was Elsie's joyful
exclamation, as he put it in her hand.

She made a movement as if to get down from his knee, but he detained her.

"Sit still and read it here, darling," he said, "I love to have you on my
knee, and if there are any hard places I can help you."

"Thank you, papa; sometimes there are hard places--at least pretty hard
for a little girl like me--though I think Miss Rose tries to write
plainly because she knows that I cannot read writing as well as big
people can."

She was eagerly tearing off the envelope while she answered him, and then
settling herself comfortably she began to read.

He watched with deep interest the varying expression of her fine open
countenance as she read. Once or twice she asked him to tell her a word,
but the most of it she got through without any difficulty.

At last she had finished.

"It is such a nice letter, papa," she said as she folded it up, "and so
good of Miss Rose to write to me again so soon."

"Are you not going to let _me_ enjoy it, too?" he asked.