"Yes; provided you will let me go along, for I am as much interested as
the children."
"Come, then," she said, rising and taking Walter's hand, Rosie, Lulu, and
Gracie keeping close to her, and Mr. Dinsmore and Arthur following.
Pausing in the hall, she pointed out the precise spot where the little
scene had been enacted between herself and him who was afterward her
husband, telling the story between a smile and a tear, then moved on up
the stairs with her little procession.
Opening a door, "This was my room," she said, "or rather my room was here
before the old house was burned down. It looks just the same, except that
the furniture is different."
Then passing on to another, "This was papa's dressing-room. I have passed
many happy hours here, sitting by his side or on his knee. It was here I
opened the trunk full of finery and toys that he brought me a few days
before that Christmas.
"Papa," turning smilingly to him, and pointing to a closed door on the
farther side of the room, "do you remember my imprisonment in that
closet?"
"Yes," he answered, with a remorseful look, "but don't speak of it.
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