"I mean both Ion and the Oaks, Edward and papa; for somehow they seem to me to be both included in that one dear word." "That is right," responded her father.
"Yes; we seem to be all one family," said Mr.Travilla, contentedly, fondling Rosebud, whom he had coaxed to a seat upon his knee; "and like a good spouse, I vote on the same side with my wife." "I too," said his mother, looking affectionately upon them both.

"I have no inclination to travel, and shall be much happier for having you all about me." The summer glided rapidly by, and vanished, leaving at Ion a priceless treasure.
It was a soft, hazy, delicious September morning; Elsie sat in her pretty boudoir, half-reclining in the depths of a large velvet-cushioned easy chair.

Her husband had left her a minute before, and she was--no, not quite alone, for her eyes were turning with a sweet, new light in them, upon a beautiful rosewood crib where, underneath the silken covers and resting on pillows of eider-down, lay a tiny form, only a glimpse of the pink face and one wee doubled-up fist to be caught through the lace curtains so carefully drawn about the little sleeper.
A familiar step was heard in the outer room.

The door opened quietly, and Elsie looking up cried, "Papa," in a delighted yet subdued tone.
"My darling," he said, coming to her and taking her in his arms.

"How nice to see you up again; but you must be careful, very, very careful, not to overexert yourself." "I am, my dear father, for Edward insists on it, and watches over me, and baby too, as if really afraid we might somehow slip away from him." "He is quite right.