remorseful on account of her long imprisonment in the closet, was, if
possible, even more than usually tender and affectionate in his manner
toward her.

The next morning Mr. Dinsmore found an opportunity to remonstrate with
his sisters on their neglect of the little guests, but did it in such a
way that they had no idea that Elsie had been complaining of them--as,
indeed, she had not--but supposed that he had himself noticed their
remissness; and feeling somewhat ashamed of their want of politeness,
they went into the children's room after breakfast, and exerted
themselves for an hour or two, for the entertainment of the little ones.
It was but a spasmodic effort, however, and they soon grew weary of the
exertion, and again let the burden fall upon Elsie. She did the best she
could, poor child, but these were tiresome and trying days from that
until New Year's.

One afternoon Mr. Horace Dinsmore was sitting in his own room, buried in
an interesting book, when the door opened and closed again very quietly,
and his little girl stole softly to his side, and laying her head on his
shoulder, stood there without uttering a word.

For hours she had been exerting herself to the utmost to amuse the
young guests, her efforts thwarted again and again by the petulance
and unreasonableness of Walter and Enna; she had also borne much teasing
from Arthur, and fault-finding from Mrs. Dinsmore, to whom Enna was
continually carrying tales, until, at length, no longer able to endure
it, she had stolen away to her father to seek for comfort.

"My little girl is tired," he said, passing his arm affectionately around
her, and pressing his lips on her forehead.