It was Saturday afternoon. Elsie was sitting on her sofa, quietly
working, while her nurse sat on the other side of the room, knitting
busily, as usual.

"Oh, mammy!" exclaimed the little girl, with sigh, "it is such a long,
long time since I have been to church. How I wish papa would let me go
to-morrow! Do you think he would, if I should ask him?"

"Dunno, darlin'! I'se 'fraid not," replied the old woman, shaking her
head doubtfully. "Massa Horace berry careful ob you, an' dat ankle not
well yet."

"Oh! but, mammy, I wouldn't need to walk, excepting just across the
church, for you know papa could carry me down to the carriage," said the
little girl eagerly.

Mr. Dinsmore came in soon afterwards, and, greeting his little girl
affectionately, sat down beside her, and, taking a newspaper from his
pocket, began to read.

"Papa, mayn't I sit on your knee?" she asked softly, as he paused in his
reading to turn his paper.

He smiled, and without speaking lifted her to the desired position, then
went on reading.

She waited patiently until there was another slight pause; then asked in
her most coaxing tone, "Papa, may I go to church to-morrow?"