With this last word, her voice had returned to bitter sarcasm; but after a moment she continued more quietly.
"Will you see him, Mother, and tell him tell him anything you like? I simply cannot talk with him to-night; nor with anybody else. Oh, Mother, kiss me and let me run away!"
By this time the poor mother had no words to offer about anything. She put her arms around her daughter, kissed her tenderly and opened the door for her to escape by way of the back hall, just as the maid appeared at the sitting-room doorway, card tray in hand.
"For Miss Daisy, ma'am. Has she gone upstairs? Shall I take it up to her room?"
"No," said the weary, faithful mother. "Daisy does not feel able to see callers to-night; I'll attend to it."
She held out her hand for the card and read on it:
"Mrs. J. C. Dunlap, Albany."
"Dunlap!" Over that name the face of the mother flushed, then paled.
That was the name of the woman who had watched over her darling with such wise and patient care, and brought her safely home! Could it possibly be the same woman who was waiting in the parlor! If so, how could she talk with her just now? She felt completely exhausted. Still, Daisy certainly must not be called. She reminded herself that the name Dunlap was common enough, even though she did not happen to recall it among her acquaintances. It really was not at all probable that a woman who lived hundreds of miles away should suddenly appear late in the evening to make a call!
At last she crossed the hall and opened the living-room door. One glance sufficed; the woman who arose at her entrance was the same one who had kissed Daisy goodbye with unmistakable tenderness only a few days before!