"I did not know you cared about my curls; I did not think about their belonging to you, and I did give one to Carry." He was silent a moment, evidently surprised at her confession; then he said gently, "No, dearest, I will not be angry this time, and I feel sure you will not do so again, now you know that I _do_ care." "No, _indeed_, I will not, dear papa," she replied in a tone of intense relief.

"But you are not going to punish me ?" she asked, beginning to tremble again.

"I was _so_ afraid to tell you, lest you would say I should not have my ride this afternoon." "Why, then, did you not put off your confession until after the ride ?" he asked, looking searchingly into her face.
"I wanted to very much, papa," she said, looking down and blushing deeply, "but I knew it would be very wrong." "My dear, conscientious little daughter," he said, taking her on his knee, "your father loves you better than ever for this new proof of your honesty and truthfulness.

Deprive you of your ride?
no, indeed, I feel far more like rewarding than punishing you.

Ah! I had forgotten! I have something for you;" and he put his hand into his pocket and brought out a letter.
"Oh! it is from Miss Rose! dear, darling Miss Rose!" was Elsie's joyful exclamation, as he put it in her hand.
She made a movement as if to get down from his knee, but he detained her.
"Sit still and read it here, darling," he said, "I love to have you on my knee, and if there are any hard places I can help you." "Thank you, papa; sometimes there are hard places--at least pretty hard for a little girl like me--though I think Miss Rose tries to write plainly because she knows that I cannot read writing as well as big people can." She was eagerly tearing off the envelope while she answered him, and then settling herself comfortably she began to read.
He watched with deep interest the varying expression of her fine open countenance as she read.