"Elsie," he said when she had done, "if I had known all this at
the time, I should not have punished you at all. Why did you not
tell me, my daughter, how you have been ill treated and provoked?"
"O papa! I could not; you know you did not ask me."
"I did ask you if it was true that you contradicted her, did I
not?"
"Yes, papa, and it was true."
"You ought to have told me the whole story though; but I see how
it was--I frightened you by my sternness. Well, daughter," he
added, kissing her tenderly, "I shall endeavor to be less stern in
future, and you must try to be less timid and more at your ease
with me."
"I will, papa," she replied meekly; "but indeed I cannot help
feeling frightened when you are angry with me."
Mr. Dinsmore sat there a long time with his little daughter on his
knee, caressing her more tenderly than ever before; and Elsie was
very happy, and talked more freely to him than she had ever done,
telling him of her joys and her sorrows; how dearly she had loved
Miss Allison--what happy hours they had spent together in studying
the Bible and in prayer--how grieved she was when her friend went
away--and how intensely she enjoyed the little letter now and then
received from her; and he listened to it all, apparently both
pleased and interested, encouraging her to go on by an occasional
question or a word of assent or approval.
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