But Maud’s feelings were not so easily soothed, and she continued to sob, and to declare over and over again that she didn’t like sad stories—she didn’t want to hear about the stolen child—until the other three were at their wits’ end.
“I’ll tell you what I’ll do, Maud,” exclaimed Daisy, with a sudden inspiration. “If you’ll stop crying, I’ll go down to the kitchen and see if there isn’t some ice-cream left. If there is, I’ll coax Bridget to let me have some, and you shall eat every bit of it, because you’re the youngest.”
Maud stopped short in the middle of a wail.
“Will you really?” she inquired doubtfully.
“Yes, I will,” promised Daisy. “Now wipe your eyes, like a good girl. Where’s your handkerchief? Oh, you haven’t got one. Well, never mind, here’s mine. There, that’s all right. You won’t cry any more, will you?”
“Suppose there isn’t any ice-cream left?” suggested Maud, still doubtfully.
“Well, there’s sure to be some cake left, anyhow, and I’m sure Bridget will give me a piece for you. Now keep still, and I’ll be back just as quick as I can.”
Maud was mollified and Daisy ran quickly down the four flights of stairs to the basement without meeting any one by the way. She tiptoed past Grandma’s door, which was fortunately closed, or she would probably have been stopped and questioned. Arrived at the kitchen, she found Bridget and Mary both taking afternoon tea. They were sitting at the kitchen table, and between them was a dish containing several tempting little frosted cakes. At Daisy’s entrance they both looked up, and Mary inquired rather sharply:
“Now what in the world are you after down here at this time of day? Did your grandma send you?”
“No,” said Daisy, pausing in the doorway, “nobody sent me. I just came to ask if there was any ice-cream left. I don’t want much, only a little for Maud. Dulcie told a story that made her cry, and I promised to bring her something to eat if I could. She loves ice-cream, and I thought perhaps——” Daisy paused in some embarrassment.