and finding her father sitting there alone, she went up to him, and in
her most coaxing tones said, "O papa! won't you _please_ let me go? I'll
be"--

"Lulu," he interrupted sternly, "go immediately to your room and your
bed."

"Papa, it isn't my bedtime for two hours yet," she said, in a half
pleading tone, "and I want to read this new 'Companion' that has just
come."

"Don't let me have to repeat my order," was the stern rejoinder; and she
obeyed, trembling and in haste.

She felt sorely disappointed, angry, and rebellious; but, as her father
had said, a few moments' reflection showed her the reason of his refusal
to allow her to accept the invitation to the Oaks: and, as she glanced
round her rooms at the many pretty things his indulgent kindness had
supplied, her anger changed to penitence and love.

"Of course, papa was right," she sighed to herself, as she moved about,
getting ready for bed; "and it wasn't because he doesn't love to see me
happy; and I wish, oh, _how_ I wish, I'd been good about it!"

She was not at all drowsy; and it seemed a long, long time that she had
been lying there awake, when at last she heard her father's step in the
hall: then he opened the door, and came in.

He had a lighted lamp in his hand. He set it on the mantel, and drew
near the bed.