Then Leslie Warburton, with a sigh upon her lips, draws the child again toward her and says:
“You may wait here, Millie; I will take care of Daisy for a short time. And, Millie, remember in future when Mr. Warburton addresses you, that you are to answer him respectfully. Come, darling.”
She turns toward the entrance, the child’s hand clasped tightly in her own, and there, directly before her, stands a figure which she has longed, yet dreaded, to meet—the Goddess of Liberty.
With a gasp of surprise, and a heart throbbing with agitation, Leslie Warburton hurriedly replaces her mask and turns to Millie.
“Millie, on second thought, you may take Daisy to her papa’s room, and tell him I will be there soon. Daisy, darling, go with Millie.”
“But, Mamma,—”
“There, there, dear, go to papa now; mamma will come.”
With many a reluctant, backward glance, Daisy suffers herself to be led away, and then the Goddess of Liberty advances and bows before the lady of the mansion.
“I am not mistaken,” whispers that lady, glancing about her as if fearing an eavesdropper; “you are—”
“First,” interrupts a mellow voice from behind the starry mask, “are you Mrs. Warburton?”