Daniel nodded. “Yes,” he said, “she's asleep, for a wonder. She vowed and declared she was goin' to stay awake until you came, but I read out loud to her and she dropped off while I was doin' it.”
“Then don't wake her, for the world. Tell her I have returned, that I am tired and have gone to bed, and will give her the news in the morning.”
“That won't do. She'll want to know to-night. What is the news? Can't you leave some message? She won't rest if you don't.”
Gertrude pondered. “Tell her,” she began slowly, “tell her Mrs. Black is elected. That is all to-night. Perhaps she will take—other things for granted.”
But when morning, very early morning, came, Captain Dan summoned his daughter from her room.
“She's wide awake, Gertie,” he said, “and she wants to know it all. You'd better come and tell her.”
But Gertrude had been thinking. “I think you had better tell her first, Daddy,” she said. “I think it may be wiser for you to tell her. Things were said and done at that election which she must not know. They were so mean, so contemptible that she ought never to know. If I am not there she cannot ask about them. I will tell you the result and how it came about and you can tell her. Perhaps that will be sufficient. I hope it may be. Listen, Daddy.”
Daniel listened. “My soul and body!” he exclaimed, when the tale was ended. “My Godfreys! and those were the folks she figgered were her friends!”
“Yes.”
“And Annette Black—”