When Mollie entered the office that morning she found it empty, Monsieur Lamonti not having arrived, although he was almost invariably there before her. He came a few moments later, however, but appeared sad and preoccupied, and upon Mollie inquiring if he were ill he said no, but that Lucille was far from well. She had been feverish and restless all night. He had called a physician that morning, but he spoke lightly, saying that her indisposition was only the effect of a slight cold, and she would be all right in a day or two.
But the gentleman was evidently very much disturbed, and finally confessed to Mollie that he would be obliged to go to New York that afternoon, and could not return until the next evening. The approaching separation and suspense, he said, seemed almost unbearable, particularly as Lucille was ill.
"I know that Nannette is, as a rule, careful and faithful," he observed, "but somehow I feel very reluctant to leave the child alone with her."
Mollie turned to him eagerly.
"Monsieur, would you feel more comfortable if I should go and remain with Lucille and Nannette until you return?" she inquired.
The man's face cleared instantly at the suggestion.
"Would you be so good, mademoiselle?" he asked in a relieved tone. "Could you be spared from your father?"
"Oh, yes; Eliza can do everything necessary for papa, and I will gladly stay with Lucille," Mollie replied.
Monsieur Lamonti accepted her offer most gratefully, upon this assurance, and when his carriage came to him he drove home with her to tell Eliza what her plans were, after which they repaired to his residence.
They found Lucille much better than she had been in the morning, and Monsieur Lamonti prepared for his journey with restored cheerfulness, and finally took his departure, feeling quite content.