That story finished, it was, "Now, mamma, please tell another; please tell
about the time when you wanted to go with the school children to pick
strawberries, and grandpa said 'No.'"
"Ah, I was rather a naughty little girl that time, and cried because I
couldn't have my own way," answered the mother musingly, with a dreamy
look in her eyes and a tender smile playing about her lips as she almost
seemed to hear again the loved tones of her father's voice, and to feel
the clasp of his arm as he drew her to his knee and laid her head against
his breast, asking, "Which was my little daughter doubting, this
afternoon--papa's wisdom, or his love?"
But her own little Elsie's arm had stolen about her neck, the cherry lips
were pressed again and again to her cheek, and the sweet child voice
repelled the charge with indignation.
"Mamma, you couldn't help the tears coming when you were so disappointed;
and that was all. You didn't say one naughty word. And grandpa says you
were the best little girl he ever saw."
"And papa says just the same," added a pleasant, manly voice from the
door, as Mr. Travilla came in, closing it after him.
Then the three young voices joined in a glad chorus, "Papa! papa!
good-morning, dear papa."
"Good-morning, papa's dear pets," he said, putting his arms round all
three at once, as they clustered about him, and returning with interest
their affectionate caresses.
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