"It's only me," cooed a musical voice, and as if the sound had unlocked the pent-up silence, two rows of pearls shone between two red lips, two large blue eyes twinkled with fun, and as charming a peal of laughter as was ever vouchsafed to mortal ears rippled merrily on the air.
"And who is me, may I ask?" rather saucily asked the routed artist.
"Why, Daisy—Daisy Merrifield; don't you know?"
"Why, no, I don't know; that is, I didn't know, but of course I know now; and I'm delighted to know."
At all these "knows", the maiden laughed her merry laugh again.
"May I ask what you are doing up there?"
"Doing nothing—just what you are doing down here."
"Ah, but I was doing something very nice down here, only you have nearly spoiled it," and with mock regret the young man picked up the slipper and comically surveyed its Cinderella proportions.
"So I did," was the regretful reply, "you see it was awfully poky, having to sit so still. I must have grown desperate at last and kicked it off—I am sorry."