"Elsie!" exclaimed her father, in a tone of mingled reproof and surprise,
"did you hear me?"

"Yes, papa," she murmured, in a low tone.

"Then go at once and get the book, as I bid you; it lies yonder on the
dressing-table."

Elsie moved slowly across the room, her father looking after her somewhat
impatiently.

"Come, Elsie, make haste," he said, as she laid her hand upon the book.
"I think I never saw you move so slowly,"

Without replying she took it up and returned to the bedside. Then, as he
caught sight of her face, and saw that her cheeks were pale and wet with
tears, he exclaimed, "What, _crying_, Elsie! what ails you, my daughter?
Are you ill, darling?"

His tone was one of tender solicitude, and accompanied with a caress, as
he took her hand and drew her towards him.

"Oh, papa!" she sobbed, laying her head on the pillow beside him, "please
do not ask me to read that book to-day."

He did not reply for a moment, and when he did, Elsie was startled by the
change in his tone; it was so exceedingly stern and severe.

"Elsie," he said, "I do not _ask_ you to read that book, I _command_ you
to do it, and what is more, _I intend to be obeyed_. Sit down at once and