“How soon are you going?” her mother asked at its conclusion.

“Just as soon as I can get the things cleared away and the dishes washed; if you think you can spare me.”

“Of course I can.  I feel well enough this morning to help myself to anything I’m likely to want.”

There was still half an hour to spare before breakfast when, after a round of five or six miles on their ponies, Philip and Elsie reached the Crags.

“What shall you do with yours?” asked Philip, remarking upon that fact.

“Read,” she answered, looking back at him with a smile as she tripped lightly up the stairs.

Dinah was in waiting to smooth her hair and help her change the pretty riding hat and habit for a dress better suited to the house; then Elsie, left alone, seated herself by a window with her Bible in her hand.

For a moment her eyes rested upon the blue distant mountains, softly outlined against the deeper blue of the sky, watched the cloud shadows floating over the nearer hills and valleys here richly wooded, there covered with fields of waving grain her ear the while drinking in with delight many a sweet rural sound, the songs of birds, the distant lowing of cattle, and bleating of sheep—­her heart swelling with ardent love and thankfulness to him who had given her so much to enjoy.

Dinah had left the door open, that the fresh air might course freely through the room, and Gertrude coming, some minutes later, in search of her friend, stood watching Elsie for a little unperceived.

“Dear me!” she exclaimed at length, “how many times a day do you pore over that book?”

Elsie looked up with a smile as sweet as the morning, “I am allowed to read it as often as I please.”

“Allowed? not compelled? not ordered?”

“No, only I must have a text ready for mamma every morning.”

“Getting one ready for to-morrow?”

“No, just reading.  I had time for only a verse or two before my ride.”

“Well, that would be plenty for me.  I can read it, too, as often as I like, but a chapter or two on Sunday, generally does me for all the week.  There’s the bell; come let’s go down.”

Vi met them at the door of the breakfast-room.  “Oh, Elsie, did you have a pleasant ride?  Is Sally Gibson coming soon?”

“I don’t know; mamma said I need not wait for an answer.”

There was time for no more, and Vi must put a restraint upon herself, repressing excitement and curiosity for the present, as mamma expected her children to be very quiet and unobtrusive at table when away from home.

Vi was delighted when just as they were leaving the table, a servant announced that a young person who called herself Miss Gibson, was asking for Miss Travilla; for Vi never liked waiting, and was always eager to carry out immediately any plan that had been set on foot.

Mrs. Gibson was not troubled with any delicacy of feeling about asking for what she wanted, and had made out a list of things to be provided for herself and Sally, which the girl was ashamed to show; so extravagant seemed its demands.