Her eyes were blue, but it was evident that they were very defective in sight, though they were partially concealed by the glasses which she wore.
She was amusing herself with some gayly dressed dolls that lay upon another chair in front of her, while a maid sat near by, engaged in dressing another.
The child looked up eagerly as the door opened, for she had recognized her father's step; her lips wreathed with fond smiles, which plainly indicated that she was devotedly attached to him.
"Why, papa!" she exclaimed, in a tone of surprise; "I didn't know that you were at home. Did you bring me some candy? Who is that with you?" she added, quickly, as she caught the sound of Violet's light steps.
"I have brought you something far better than candy," her father responded, with a tender note in his voice; "I have invited a young lady to come up to see you. Miss Huntington, this is my little daughter, Bertha."
"Come here, Miss Huntington!" the child said, imperatively, and Violet went at once to her side, greeting her in her gentle voice.
"You are very good to come to see me," the child said, more courteously than she had previously spoken, for Violet's sweet tones had attracted her. "I like your voice. Put your face down and let me see it."
Violet knelt beside her chair, thus bringing her face on a level with Bertha's.
The young girl strained her gaze to get a view of it, but this not proving satisfactory, she passed her fingers lightly over Violet's delicate features, their touch lingering longest upon her sweet lips.
"You are lovely," she said, naively, after the examination. "Are you one of papa's especial friends?"