So John was sent for a carriage, and they drove to one of the first hotels in the city, where Mr. Dinsmore at once engaged rooms for himself, daughter, and servants.

“You are looking tired, my child,” he said, as he led Elsie to her room and seated her upon a sofa; “and you are warm and dusty.  But mammy must give you a bath, and put on your loose wrapper, and I will have your supper brought up here, and then you must go early to bed, and I hope you will feel quite bright again in the morning.”

“Yes, papa, I hope so; and then you will take me to see Miss Rose, won’t you?” she asked coaxingly.

“I will send them our cards to-night, my dear, since you feel in such haste,” he replied in a pleasant tone, “and probably Miss Rose will be here in the morning if she is well, and cares to see us.”

John and the porter were bringing up the trunks.  They set them down and went out again, followed by Mr. Dinsmore, who did not return until half an hour afterwards, when he found Elsie lying on the sofa, seeming much refreshed by her bath and change of clothing.  “You look better already, dearest,” he said, stooping to press a kiss on her lips.

“And you, too, papa,” she answered, smiling up at him.  “I think it improves any one to get the dust washed off.  Won’t you take your tea up here with me?  I should like it so much.”

“I will, darling,” he said kindly; “it is a great pleasure to me to gratify you in any harmless wish.”  And then he asked her what she would like for her supper, and told Chloe to ring for the waiter, that she might order it.

After their tea they had their reading and prayer together; then he bade her good-night and left her, telling Chloe to put her to bed immediately.  Chloe obeyed, and the little girl rose the next morning, feeling quite rested, and looking very well and bright.

“How early do you think Miss Rose will come, papa?” was the first question she put to him on his entrance into her room.

“Indeed, my child, I do not know, but I certainly should not advise you to expect her before ten o’clock, at the very earliest.”

“And it isn’t eight yet,” murmured Elsie, disconsolately.  “Oh, papa, I wish you would take me to see her as soon as breakfast is over.”

He shook his head.  “You must not be so impatient, my little daughter,” he said, drawing her towards him.  “Shall I take you to Independence Hall to-day?”

“Not until Miss Rose has been here, if you please, papa; because I am so afraid of missing her.”

“Very well, you may stay in this morning, if you wish,” he replied in an indulgent tone, as he took her hand to lead her down to the breakfast-table.

So Elsie remained in her room all the morning, starting at every footstep, and turning her head eagerly every time the door opened:  but no Miss Rose appeared, and she met her father at dinner-time with a very disconsolate face.  He sympathized in her disappointment, and said all he could to raise her drooping spirits.