Both the maids laughed, and Bridget—who was generally good-natured—pushed back her chair from the table.
“There isn’t very much left,” she said. “I was keeping it for our supper, but I suppose you may as well have it.”
“Oh, thank you,” cried Daisy, gratefully; “you’re very kind. I’m sorry to take it away from you and Mary, but Maud is so unhappy. I’m sure the ice-cream will make her feel cheerful again.”
Bridget retired to the ice-box, from whence she presently returned with a well-filled saucer of pink ice-cream.
“It’s too bad there isn’t enough for you all,” she said, kindly, “but the madame’s that stingy, she never will order more than just enough to go round. You can have a couple of these cakes, anyhow, and that’ll be better than nothing.”
Daisy’s heart beat very fast, as she stole softly up-stairs again with her precious burden. She reached the second floor in safety, and was just beginning to breathe more freely, when there came an interruption. Grandma’s door opened suddenly, and a sharp, querulous voice demanded:
“Who’s that?”
Daisy’s heart gave a big jump, but she tried to speak quite naturally.
“It’s only I, Grandma,” she faltered, and try as she might, she could not keep the tremor altogether out of her voice.
Mrs. Winslow stepped out into the hall.