satisfaction.

"I am glad you are pleased with it, daughter," returned Mr. Dinsmore,
opening the morning paper, which John had just brought up.

They--Mr. Dinsmore and Elsie, Rose and Edward Allison--were occupying
very comfortable quarters in a large hotel at one of our fashionable
watering-places. A bedroom for each, and a private parlor for the
joint use of the party, had been secured in advance, and late the
night before they had arrived and taken possession.

It was now early in the morning, Elsie and her papa were in his room,
which was in the second story and opened upon a veranda, shaded by
tall trees, and overlooking a large grassy yard at the side of the
building. Beyond were green fields, woods, and hills.

"Papa," said Elsie, gazing longingly upon them, as she stood by the
open window, "can't we take a walk?"

"When Miss Rose is ready to go with us."

"May I run to her door and ask if she is?--and if she isn't, may I
wait for her out here on the veranda?"

"Yes."

She skipped away, but was back again almost immediately. "Papa, what
do you think? It's just too bad!"

"What is too bad, daughter? I think I never before saw so cross a look