Having made up her mind to withdraw quietly from the party, she looked about for Marjorie. To her surprise she found her—not on the floor as she usually was when music was playing—but over in the corner of the room talking with Miss Vaughn. As inconspicuously as possible she made her way across to them. As she drew near enough to hear their voices she realized that Marjorie’s was ardent, pleading; she was evidently asking the old lady for something. However, she looked up cordially as Daisy approached, not seeming to mind the interruption.
“Yes—come here, Daisy—I am pleading your cause! I am trying to convince Miss Vaughn that Mr. Wallace and Mr. Hitchens made a mistake.”
The woman’s eyes searched those of the new-comer, but she could read neither guilt nor innocence from her countenance—only distress.
“But how could they?” asked Miss Vaughn.
“They admitted that they didn’t stop,” argued Marjorie; “so it might have been rather difficult to determine whether the boys or the girls were doing the work!”
“Why didn’t you ask Mr. McDaniel?” suggested Daisy.
“I have already asked Mr. Cryton,” replied Miss Vaughn; “and, as I expected, he denied it. He would hardly be a man if he didn’t, knowing the circumstances. No, I am afraid that in a case like this, the word of these two young men could not be relied upon.”
“Then why rely upon that of the other two men?” flashed Marjorie.
“That is different—they are disinterested, as I told you before. And they gave me the information before they heard of my conditions—not afterwards! Now they too would probably lie for you, out of chivalry, since they know how much it means to you.”
As she continued, Marjorie grew increasingly excited, while Daisy only became more and more unhappy. Her eyes sought Marjorie’s in a mute appeal for her to take her away from the party. But the other girl was not ready; she had a plan at the back of her mind which she was saving to utilize if all else failed.