Thus urged, Mr. Oliver succeeded in finding voice to say: "Mrs. Dunlap understands, I am sure, better than I could tell her, how ready I am to do her bidding."
Mrs. Dunlap got away by the noon train and took the night-express for the West, canceling all her engagements for the week; she had more important work to look after. Not telegrams, nor long distance telephones, nor even carefully written letters could serve her now. She must go in person to try to explain, as best she might, to that dear girl who was waiting at home to hear from one to whom she had given her trust, to prove him to her mother as "good and noble!"
As she sped westward that afternoon the good woman prayed that she might be able to help save that sweet, periled life.
[CHAPTER IV]
MRS. SHELDON and her daughter Daisy were occupying easy chairs in their pleasant living-room, surrounded by all possible evidences of home comforts, and luxuries. But even a passing glance at the two faces would have suggested unrest. The mother's face looked worn, and her eyes were anxious; while the daughter's eyes were tense with excitement.
"Daisy dear," began Mrs. Sheldon, and was interrupted:
"Please, Mother, won't you call me 'Marguerite'?"
A look of pain flushed the mother's face but she spoke quietly.
"Why, daughter, you know I nearly always say 'Daisy.'"
"I know you do; but I—I don't like it to-night; I—Mother, I just can't bear the sound of it! That's the only explanation I can give."