“Who is?” asked one of the crowd of six girls who joined them at this moment.
“Isabelle’s father. Tell them about him, Isabelle,” urged Peggy, the adoring.
So Isabelle began to enlarge upon the theme of the magnificent being who was her father. When she had finished his portrait Wally was a cross between a Norse Viking and a Greek god, with a few lines by Charles Dana Gibson just to bring him into the realm of reality. The girls were thrilled to hear of this heroic being. They entreated Isabelle to have him visit her, but she assured them that it was out of the question. This superman, this leader of society and Wall Street, could never find time to visit so obscure a spot.
Isabelle’s father became a legendary figure among them, beautiful and godlike. She shone in the reflected glory of him for weeks. His experiences and adventures were added to ad infinitum.
“And my father was riding on his black horse, Nero, when he saw this very beautiful girl, in distress. He asked her what was the matter; she told him that she was falsely accused—that the police were after her.”
“Oh, what was she accused of, Isabelle?”—breathlessly.
“Murder,” said Isabelle, promptly.
“Mercy! what did your father do?”
“He hesitated not a minute. With one sweep of his arm he lifted her to the saddle before him, and started Nero on a gallop.”