"What magic have you used?" asks Grandon in surprise.
Miss St. Vincent laughs. She hardly looks a day over fifteen, though she is two years older.
"Will you not let her come for a whole day?" she entreats. "I get so lonesome. I can only see papa a little while, and he cannot talk to me. I get tired of reading and rambling about, and Denise is worried when I stay out any length of time."
"Yes, if you can persuade her," and Grandon smiles down into the bright, eager face. "In England she was with a family of children, and she misses them."
"Oh, are you English?" Violet asks, with a naive curiosity.
"My little girl was born there, but I always lived here until I went abroad, ten years ago."
"And I was born in France," she says, with a bright, piquant smile, "though that doesn't make me quite thoroughly French." Then, as by this time they have reached Cecil, she kneels down and puts her arm around her. "He says you may come for a whole long day. We will have tea out on the porch, and you shall play with my pretty china dishes and my great doll, and when you are tired we will swing in the hammock. Shall it be to-morrow?"
"I think she must rest to-morrow," Grandon replies, gravely.
"Oh, but the next day will be Sunday!"
"If she is well enough I will bring her in the morning," he answers, indulgently.