"Well," said Elsie, glancing dreamily about, "this parlor where we are all sitting occupies the same part of the house, and is almost exactly like the one where the scenes I told you of took place."

"What scenes?" asked Dr. Conly, drawing near, with a look of interest.

Mr. Dinsmore, too, turned to listen.

"I have been telling the children about the Christmas holidays at Roselands the first winter after my father's return from Europe," she answered. "It was before you were born, Cousin Arthur, while your mother was still a very young girl."

"Mamma," asked Rosie, "where was grandpa sitting when you went to him and confessed that you had let Carry Howard cut off one of your curls?"

"Near yonder window. Do you remember it, papa?" she asked, looking smilingly at him.

"Yes, I think I have forgotten very little that ever pa.s.sed between us.

You were a remarkably honest, conscientious child--would come and confess wrong-doing that I should never have known or suspected, even when you thought it likely I should punish you severely for it."

"Now, mamma," said Rosie, "won't you go into the hall with us and show us just where papa caught you, and kissed you, and gave you the gold thimble?

And then your room and grandpa's?"

"Arthur, have we your permission to roam over the house?" Elsie asked, turning to him.

"Yes; provided you will let me go along, for I am as much interested as the children."

"Come, then," she said, rising and taking Walter's hand, Rosie, Lulu, and Gracie keeping close to her, and Mr. Dinsmore and Arthur following.

Pausing in the hall, she pointed out the precise spot where the little scene had been enacted between herself and him who was afterward her husband, telling the story between a smile and a tear, then moved on up the stairs with her little procession.

Opening a door, "This was my room," she said, "or rather my room was here before the old house was burned down. It looks just the same, except that the furniture is different."

Then pa.s.sing on to another, "This was papa's dressing-room. I have pa.s.sed many happy hours here, sitting by his side or on his knee. It was here I opened the trunk full of finery and toys that he brought me a few days before that Christmas.

"Papa," turning smilingly to him, and pointing to a closed door on the farther side of the room, "do you remember my imprisonment in that closet?"

"Yes," he answered, with a remorseful look, "but don't speak of it. How very ready I was to punish you for the most trifling fault."

"Indeed, papa," she answered earnestly, "it was no such trifle, for I had disobeyed a plain order not to ask a second time for permission to do what you had once forbidden."

"True; but I now see that a child so sensitive, conscientious and affectionate as you were, would have been sufficiently punished by a mild rebuke."

"A year or two later you discovered and acted upon that," she said, with an affectionate look up into his face. "But at this time you were a very young father; and when I remember how you took me on your knee, by the fire there, and warmed my hands and feet, petting and fondling me, and what a nice evening I had with you afterward, I could almost wish to go through it all again."

"Hark! what was that?" exclaimed Rosie.

Every one paused to listen.

There was a sound of sobbing as of a child in sore distress, and it seemed to come from the closet.

"There's somebody shut up there now," Walter said in a loud, excited whisper. "Grandpa, can't she be let out?"

Arthur strode hastily across the room and threw the closet door wide open.

There was no one there. They glanced at each other in surprise and perplexity.

"Ah, ha, ah, ha! um, h'm! ah, ah! the la.s.sie's no there, eh?" said a voice behind them, and turning quickly at the sound, whom should they see but Mr. Lilburn standing in the open doorway leading to the hall.

"But we know all about her now, sir," said Arthur with a laugh, in which he was joined by every one present.

CHAPTER XIII.

"Evil communications corrupt good manners."

--1 _Cor._ 15:33.

The one drawback upon Max's perfect enjoyment of his new home was the lack of a companion of his own age and s.e.x; the only boys in the family connection, or among the near neighbors, were nearly grown to manhood or very little fellows.

Therefore, when Ralph Conly came home for the Christmas holidays, and though four years older than himself, at once admitted him to a footing of intimacy, Max was both pleased and flattered.

Ralph's manner, to be sure, was more condescending than was altogether agreeable, but that seemed not inexcusable, considering his superiority in years and knowledge of the world.

At Ion, Max played the part of host, taking Ralph up to his own bedroom to show him his books and other treasures, to the boys' work-room, out to the stables to see the horses, and about the grounds.

To-day, at Roselands, it was Ralph's turn to entertain. He soon drew Max away from the company in the parlors, showed him the horses and dogs, then invited him to take a walk.

It was near dinner time when they returned. After dinner he took him to his room, and producing a pack of cards, invited him to play.

"Cards!" exclaimed Max. "I don't know anything about playing with them, and don't want to."

"Why not? are you too pious?" Ralph asked with a sneer, tumbling them out in a heap upon the table.

"I've always been taught that men gamble with cards, and that gambling is very wicked and disgraceful, quite as bad as getting drunk."

"Pooh! you're a m.u.f.f!"

"I'd rather be a m.u.f.f than a gambler, any day," returned Max with spirit.

"Pshaw! 'tisn't gambling, unless you play for money, and I haven't asked you to do that, and don't propose to. Come now, take a hand," urged Ralph persuasively. "There isn't a bit more harm in it than in a game of ball."

"But I don't know how," objected Max.

"I'll teach you," said Ralph. "You'll soon learn and will find it good sport."

At length Max yielded, though not without some qualms of conscience which he tried to quiet by saying to himself, "Papa never said I shouldn't play in this way; only that gambling was very wicked, and I must never go where it was done."

"Have a cigar?" said Ralph, producing two, handing one to Max, and proceeding to light the other. "You smoke, of course; every gentleman does."

Max never had, and did not care to, but was so foolish as to be ashamed to refuse after that last remark of Ralph's; beside having seen his father smoke a cigar occasionally, he thought there could be no harm in it.