Mr. Dinsmore shook his head. "Ah! my little girl, you don't realize how
much some one else's opinions will soon weigh with you," he answered,
putting an arm about her and looking with fatherly delight into the sweet
face.

"Ah, papa!" she cried, laying her cheek to his, "please don't talk so; it
hurts me."

"Then, dearest, I shall not say it again, though indeed I was not
reproaching you; it is right, very right, that husband and wife should be
more than all the world beside to each other."

Elsie's cheek crimsoned. "It has not come to that yet, father dear," she
murmured, half averting her blushing face; "and--I don't know which of you
I love best--or how I could ever do without either: the love differs in
kind rather than in degree."

He drew her closer. "Thank you, my darling; what more could I ask or
desire?" A slight tap on the door and Mrs. Dinsmore looked in. "Any
admittance?" she asked playfully.

"Always to my wife," answered her husband, releasing Elsie and rising to
hand Rose a chair.

"Thanks, my dear, but I haven't time to sit down," she said. "Here is a
note of invitation for us all to spend the day at Roselands. Shall we go?"

"Certainly, if it suits you, Rose," replied Mr. Dinsmore; "and Elsie;" he
added, "will you go, daughter?"