“Well, I think Dr. Kendricks and Mr. Ledwith and Mrs. Barrington couldn’t all be deceived. You see, this Mrs. Boyd never knew she belonged to us, but she thought there might be a father somewhere; and the account of the accident tallied; there were only two babies on the train and one was killed. Mrs. Boyd knew the baby she took was not hers. So it is beyond any doubt.”
Zaidee Crawford looked brave and beautiful and her voice would have carried conviction anywhere, as well as disarming criticism.
“Oh, you are a darling!” and two or three of the girls kissed her rapturously.
“I wouldn’t be without a sister for all the world,” declared Evelyn Van Orden, the middle one of the three girls.
The musicians were tuning up. Several of the young gentlemen stood in the hall waiting. Mrs. Van Orden summoned them down.
It was a gay young people’s party and numerous were the regrets that Willard Crawford was to be gone for so long.
“But you’ll have Vincent all next summer,” he said. “And there is no scarcity of other young fellows.”
“But they go away, as well. Unless they have a fortune they cannot afford to stay at home.”
“And I have all mine to make,” he returned, with mock seriousness.
It was true that at ten the music stopped, but there was some gay chatting over the refreshments and then the carriages began to come. They all expressed their pleasure to their hostess. Willard insisted that they should take home two or three of the girls, and they were nothing loth.