fifteen or sixteen years of age. She was very beautiful, with a
sweet, gentle, winning countenance, the same soft hazel eyes and
golden brown curls that the little Elsie possessed; the same
regular features, pure complexion, and sweet smile.

Miss Allison gazed at it a moment in silent admiration; then
turning from it to the child with a puzzled expression, she said,
"But, Elsie, I do not understand; are you not sister to Enna and
the rest, and is not Mrs. Dinsmore own mother to them all?"

"Yes, ma'am, to all of them, but not to me nor my papa. Their
brother Horace is my papa, and so they are all my aunts and
uncles."

"Indeed," said the lady, musingly; "I thought you looked very
unlike the rest. And your papa is away, is he not, Elsie?"

"Yes, ma'am; he is in Europe. He has been away almost ever since I
was born, and I have never seen him. Oh! how I do wish he would
come home! how I long to see him! Do you think he would love me,
Miss Allison? Do you think he would take me on his knee and pet
me, as grandpa does Enna?"

"I should think he would, dear; I don't know how he could help
loving his own dear little girl," said the lady, again kissing the
little rosy cheek. "But now," she added, rising, "I must go away
and let you learn your lesson."

Then taking up the little Bible, and turning over the leaves, she
asked, "Would you like to come to my room sometimes in the