"But why in such a hurry, my child?" asked her father. "Let us leave
these good people yet a little while to themselves. We will still be
in time to witness their games. I would like to stay a quarter of an
hour with you, Elise."

Without answering, she rolled an arm-chair to the window, and laid
aside her hat and shawl.

"It is very seldom, father, that you make me such a present," said
she.

"What present, my child?"

"A quarter of an hour of your life, father."

"You are right," said he, thoughtfully. "I have little time for
pleasure, but I think so much the more of you."

She shook her head gently.

"No," said she, "you have no time to think of me. You are too busy.
Hundreds of men claim your attention. How could you have time, father,
to think of your daughter?"

Gotzkowsky drew a dark-red case from his breast pocket and handed it
to her.

"Look, Elise! see if I have not thought of you. To-day is your
birthday, and I have celebrated it as I have done every year by giving
my workmen a festival, and endowing a poor bridal pair who on this