“Wait for me here, Eunice,” requested Mollie. “I want to go into the other room for a minute.”
Mollie peeped inside the sitting-room door.
Mr. Winthrop Latham was cosily drinking his tea in the best of humor. He had a decided liking for Miss Stuart and her “Automobile Girls.”
Bab was joking with Mr. Latham as she plied him with sandwiches and cakes.
For half a minute Mollie’s heart misgave her. She was afraid to try her experiment.
The Cup in Mr. Latham’s Hand Trembled.
“Good gracious!” she thought, finally, “what possible harm can it do Mr. Winthrop Latham to look at poor, pretty little Eunice? If the child means nothing to him, he will not even notice her. If she turns out to be the child I believe she is, why, then—then—it is only right that her uncle, Mr. Winthrop Latham, should know of her existence.”