Daisy was not amused. She was even angry with Linnevitch, but too gentle to show it. Presently she said good-night and went to bed.
"Now," said Mrs. Linnevitch, "she'll go with that young feller sure. The way you mocked him made her mad. I've got eyes in my head. Whatever she used to think, now she thinks he's a live saint."
"I wonder, now?" said Linnevitch. A few minutes' wondering must have brought him into agreement with his wife, for presently he toiled up three flights of stairs and knocked at Daisy's door.
"Daisy," he said.
"What is it, Mr. Linnevitch?" If her voice had not been tearful it would have been cold.
The man winced. "Mebbe that young feller is O. K.," he said. "I have come just to say that. Mebbe he is. But you just let me look him up a liddle bit—eh?"
He did not catch her answer.
"You promise me that—eh? Mrs. Linnevitch and me, we want to do what is right and best. We don't want our liddle Daisy to make no mistakes."
He had no answer but the sounds that go with tears. He knew by this that his mockings and insinuations had been forgiven.
"Good-night, liddle girl," he said. "Sleep tight." His own voice broke. "I be your popper—eh?" he said.