"
"That is right," responded her father.
"Yes; we seem to be all one family," said Mr. Travilla, contentedly,
fondling Rosebud, whom he had coaxed to a seat upon his knee; "and like a
good spouse, I vote on the same side with my wife."
"I too," said his mother, looking affectionately upon them both. "I have
no inclination to travel, and shall be much happier for having you all
about me."
The summer glided rapidly by, and vanished, leaving at Ion a priceless
treasure.
It was a soft, hazy, delicious September morning; Elsie sat in her pretty
boudoir, half-reclining in the depths of a large velvet-cushioned easy
chair. Her husband had left her a minute before, and she was--no, not
quite alone, for her eyes were turning with a sweet, new light in them,
upon a beautiful rosewood crib where, underneath the silken covers and
resting on pillows of eider-down, lay a tiny form, only a glimpse of the
pink face and one wee doubled-up fist to be caught through the lace
curtains so carefully drawn about the little sleeper.
A familiar step was heard in the outer room. The door opened quietly, and
Elsie looking up cried, "Papa," in a delighted yet subdued tone.
"My darling," he said, coming to her and taking her in his arms. "How nice
to see you up again; but you must be careful, very, very careful, not to
overexert yourself.
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