Elsie And Her Loved Ones

It was a lovely spring day—very lovely at Viamede, where Mrs. Travilla—or Grandma Elsie, as some of her young friends loved to call her—was seated under the orange trees on the flower-bespangled lawn, with her father and his wife, her cousins, Mr. Ronald Lilburn and Annis, his wife, her children, and some of the more distant relatives and friends gathered about her or wandering here and there at some little distance on the same beautiful lawn. “What a beautiful place this is!” exclaimed Zoe, breaking a pause in the conversation. “Yes,” said her husband, “but I am thinking it is about time we returned to our more northern homes.” “I think it is,” said his grandfather, Mr. Dinsmore. “I also; I feel as if I had been neglecting my business shamefully,” sighed Chester. At that Dr. Harold shook his head smilingly. “Don’t let conscience reproach you, Chester, for what has probably saved you from invalidism and perhaps prolonged your life for years.”