"Thank God, the danger is past!" came in a low-breathed exclamation from Mr. Dinsmore's lips. "Ah, my darling, did I wake you?" as he perceived the soft brown eyes of his little daughter gazing lovingly into his.

"No, papa dear, I have been awake a good while, but have not dared to move for fear of disturbing you," she said, lifting her head from his breast to put her arms about his neck, and kissing him again and again.

"Did you sleep well, daughter?" he asked, fondly stroking her hair and returning her loving caresses.

"Yes, papa, I don't believe I moved once after we stopped talking last night. I hope you too have had a good sleep?"

"Yes, and feel greatly refreshed. Our heavenly Father has been very good to us. Let us kneel down and thank him for the light of this new day and for our spared lives."

They landed in safety, breakfasted at a hotel, and took the stage for Pleasant Plains; glad to find they had it to themselves—they and their two servants.

It was a lovely October day; the roads were good, the woods gay with autumn tints, the sun shone brightly after the rain, and the air was sweet, pure, and invigorating.

Elsie sat by her father's side gay and happy as a bird—chatting, singing, laughing; plying him with intelligent questions about everything she saw that was new and strange, and about the cousins whom they were going to visit; he answering her with a patient kindness that never wearied.

He had neglected her in her babyhood, and once—only a year ago—his tyrannical severity had brought her to the borders of the grave: he could not forget it; he felt that he could never fully atone to her for it by any amount of the tenderest love and care; but she should have all he could lavish upon her.

A joyous welcome awaited them on their arrival. Mrs. Keith embraced her cousin with sisterly, his child with motherly affection, and Mildred wept for joy as she folded Elsie to her heart.

Indeed Elsie's beauty, her sweet, loving looks and smiles as she accepted and returned their greetings, won all hearts; while all presently esteemed "Cousin Horace" far more agreeable and lovable than he had been on his former visits; there was less of pride and hauteur about him, more of gentleness and thought for the comfort and happiness of others.

Mildred and her mother were especially delighted with the ardent affection evidently subsisting between him and his little girl; neither seemed willing to lose sight of the other for a single hour; she hovered about him, being almost always close at his side or on his knee, he caressing her now and then, half unconsciously, as he talked, or his hand toying with her curls.

Mrs. Keith remarked upon it to him as they sat alone together the day after his arrival, expressing her heartfelt joy in beholding it.

Elsie had just left the room with Annis, her father's eyes following her as she went, with the wonted expression of parental pride and tenderness.

"Yes," he said with a sigh, "she is the very light of my eyes. Ah, Marcia, I shall never cease to regret not having followed your advice on my last visit, by taking immediate possession of my child! I have lost by that mistake eight years of the joy of fatherhood to the sweetest child ever parent had. And yet it has, perhaps, been better for her, for I should have made her very worldly-minded instead of the sweet little Christian I found her."

"You have at all events escaped the loss I feared for you," Mrs. Keith said, with a sympathizing smile.

"Of her filial love and obedience? Yes, she could not be more dutiful or affectionate than she is. And yet there was at one time a terrible struggle between us; but for which, I now see, that I alone was to blame. It was my severity, my determination to enforce obedience to commands that conflicted with the dictates of her enlightened conscience, that caused the almost mortal illness of which I wrote you. Yes, a year ago I had nearly been written childless. At one time I thought she was gone, and never, never can I forget the unutterable anguish of that hour." His voice had grown husky, his features worked with emotion, and tears filled his eyes.

But recovering himself he went on to give her a somewhat detailed account of the whole affair, as it is to be found in the Elsie books; she listening to the recital with intense, often tearful interest.

The little girls were in Mildred's room dressing dolls and chatting together the while, Mildred, busied with some sewing, overhearing the most of their talk with both interest and amusement. Elsie was describing the Oaks and her home-life there, in reply to inquiries from Annis.

"What a lovely place it must be! and how delightful to have a pony of your own and ride it every day!" exclaimed the latter.

"Yes, it's very nice; but the best of all, I think, is living in papa's house with him. You know we used to live at Roselands, with Grandpa Dinsmore and the rest."

"But I should think you'd often feel lonesome in that big house with nobody but Cousin Horace and the servants. Don't you wish you had a mother like ours and brothers and sisters?"

A bright, eager, joyous look came into Elsie's face at that question; she opened her lips as if to speak, then closed them again. "Oh, wait a minute till I ask papa something!" she said, laying down the doll she had in her hands, and running from the room.

Mr. Dinsmore was just finishing his sad story of her illness as the little girl came in. She heard his last, self-reproachful sentence, and coming softly to his side, put her arm about his neck and her lips to his cheek. "Dear, dear papa, I love you so much!" she whispered. "Aunt Marcia," turning to Mrs. Keith, "I think I have the best, kindest father in the world. He was so, so good to me when I was sick, and he always is. To be sure, he punishes me when I'm naughty; but that's being good to me, isn't it?"

"I think so," Mrs. Keith answered with a smile; then excused herself and left the room for a moment.

"Papa," said Elsie, taking possession of his knee, "may I tell my cousins about Miss Rose?"

"I never forbade you to speak of her, did I?" he returned, in a playful tone, smiling on her and stroking her hair with caressing hand.

"No, sir; but I would like to tell them that—that she is going to be my mamma soon; if I may—if you would like me to?"

"You may tell them; I do not object; but it was quite right to ask permission first," he answered; and with a joyful "Thank you, sir," she skipped away.

When Mrs. Keith rejoined him he had another story for her ear—a brighter, cheerier one than the last; the same that Elsie was gleefully rehearsing to her cousins up-stairs.

"Miss Rose was so nice, so good, so kind," she had been saying.

"Is she pretty too?" asked Annis.

"Yes, but not nearly so beautiful as my own mamma," Elsie said, drawing from the bosom of her dress a lovely miniature set in gold and precious stones.

Annis exclaimed at the extreme beauty of both the face and its setting, while Mildred gazed upon the former with eyes full of a mournful tenderness.

"It's almost prettier than your gold watch," Annis said, "though I thought that was as beautiful as anything could be. Your rings too."

"They were presents from papa and Mr. Travilla," said Elsie, glancing down at them, "and the watch was mamma's. Papa had it done up for me this summer, and gave me the chain with it."

"Such a beauty as it is, too! Did you ever go to school, Elsie?"

"No, we had a governess at Roselands; now papa teaches me himself."

"Do you like that?"

"Yes, indeed! He explains everything so nicely and makes my lessons so interesting. He often tells me a nice story to illustrate, and is never satisfied till I understand every word of my tasks."

"There!" cried Annis looking out of the window, "Zillah is motioning for me to come over. Will you come with me, Elsie?"

"If papa gives permission. I'll run and ask him."

"Why, can't you go across the street without asking leave?" exclaimed Annis in surprise.

"No, I'm not allowed to go anywhere without leave."

"Now, that's queer! Your papa pets you so that I really supposed you could do exactly as you pleased."

"How Enna would laugh to hear you say that," returned Elsie, laughing herself. "She thinks papa is the strictest person she ever saw, and says she wouldn't be ruled as I am for any money."

"How do you mean? He seems so fond of you, and you of him too."

"Yes, indeed, we're ever so fond of each other; but papa will always be obeyed the instant he speaks, and without any teasing, fretting, crying, or sour looks, and he is sure to punish the slightest act of disobedience, never taking forgetfulness of his orders as any excuse."

"Then he is strict," remarked Annis, shrugging her shoulders.

The two went down-stairs together, Elsie asked and received the desired permission, and they hastened to inquire what Zillah wanted.

"I've been baking some jumbles," she said. "I know Annis is very fond of them hot from the oven, and I hope you are too, Elsie. And here is a paper of candy Wallace bought last night. There, sit down and help yourselves."

Elsie looked a little wishfully at the offered dainties, but politely declined them. Both Zillah and Annis urged her to partake, the latter adding, "I'm sure you can't help liking them, for nobody makes better jumbles than Zillah."

"They look very tempting," Elsie answered, "and I have no doubt are very nice, but I think they are richer than papa would approve; and besides he does not allow me to eat between meals, unless it is some very simple thing that I will eat only if quite hungry."

"But the candy; you can eat some of that, can't you?"

"No, Cousin Zillah, I must never eat that unless papa gives it to me himself. Once in a long while he gives me a very little."

"Dear me! I begin to almost think Enna's right," Annis said laughingly.

"Oh, no, no!" cried Elsie, reddening and the tears starting to her eyes; "papa is very, very kind to me; he forbids only what he thinks injurious to my health."

"Certainly," said Zillah, "and it shows that he is a good father; and you are a good daughter to be so ready to stand up for him and so obedient."

She went out of the room, leaving the little girls alone for a short time.

"Annis, here is a note I want Wallace to have at once," she said, coming back. "Will you take it to the office for me?"

"Yes, if Elsie will go with me?"

"I will go and ask papa if I may," Elsie said, tying on her hat. "Ah, there he is now coming out of the gate with Aunt Marcia."

She ran to him and preferred her request, Annis following close behind.

"Yes," he said; "Aunt Marcia and I are going to walk down the street, and you may run on before with Annis. I shall keep you in sight."

"Are you to wait for an answer, Annis?" asked her mother.

"No, ma'am."

"Then you and Elsie can join us as soon as you have handed Wallace the note. I am going to show Cousin Horace a part of the town he hasn't seen yet. Run on ahead, and we will meet you at the office door as you come out."

Eager for the walk with their parents, the little girls made haste to obey.

"There! my shoe-string is untied," cried Annis, suddenly stopping short within a few yards of their destination. "Here, Elsie, won't you run in with the note while I'm tying it?"

Elsie obligingly complied.

The door stood open, and stepping in, she caught sight of a strangely uncouth figure: that of a man, coatless and hatless, wearing green goggles, a red flannel shirt with a white bosom tied on over it, and sitting sidewise in Mr. Keith's office chair, with his legs over the arm, dangling in air; a full set of false teeth twirling about in his fingers, while he gave vent to the most dismal sighs and groans.

One sweeping glance showed the child that this was the only occupant of the room, and springing back in terror, she turned and fled, flying with swift feet to the shelter of her father's arms.

He was not far away, and in a moment she was clinging to him, pale and almost speechless with fright.

"My darling, what is it?" he asked, stooping to take her in his arms. "You are trembling like a leaf. What has alarmed you so?"

"Papa, papa," she gasped, "there's a crazy man in Uncle Stuart's office."

"Never mind, he shall not hurt you, daughter," Mr. Dinsmore answered in soothing tones.

Mrs. Keith and Annis were looking on and listening in surprise and bewilderment; then the former, seeing a tall form issuing from the office door, a coat over one arm, a hat in that hand, while the other seemed to be employed in settling his teeth, burst into a laugh, not loud but very mirthful, saying, "Not a lunatic, dear, but our very odd and absent-minded minister."

He was walking away in the direction to take him farther from them. They saw Wallace meet him and stop to shake hands and exchange a few sentences. Then the two parted, Mr. Lord walked on, and Wallace hurried to meet them.

The thing was soon explained. Mr. Lord had come in heated by a long walk, and finding no one in the office, had pulled off his coat and settled himself to rest and grow cool while waiting for the return of Mr. Keith or Wallace.

But Elsie, with nerves still weak from her severe illness, could not recover immediately from the effects of her sudden fright; she still trembled and was very pale. So a carriage was sent for and a drive substituted for the intended walk; much to the delight of Annis, to whom it was an unusual treat.