He arose and rang for a servant.
“And now,” he continued, “I know you will excuse me if I return to my guests. My daughter will bring you in presently, so that we may have the pleasure of making you acquainted with them. And, of course, you will remain with us till to-morrow.” He smiled again and went slowly from the room on the arm of the servant.
Orme turned to the girl. Her face was rosy and her eyes were fixed on the arm of her chair.
“Girl, dear,” he said, “I can hardly believe that it is all true.”
She did not answer, and while he gazed at her, surprised at her silence, failing to understand her sudden embarrassment, Bessie Wallingham appeared in the doorway and stood hesitant.
“Am I still not wanted?” said Bessie, roguery in her voice. “Sure, ye’ll find me a faithful servant. I minds me own business and asks no questions.”
The girl rushed over to her friend.
“Oh, Bessie,” she cried, with a little laugh—“Oh, Bessie, won’t you please come in and—and——”
Orme began to understand. “And wait for us a little longer,” he broke in.
Masterfully he led the girl out through the doorway to the hall.