"I'm afraid I have startled you," said Mary Dunlap moving forward; for Daisy's mother had paused suddenly the moment she caught sight of her caller, and her pale face was expressive of pain. "Of course you did not expect to see me so soon again, but I—it became my duty to return West sooner than I had planned. I hope I may see your daughter for a few minutes? There is a—I have heard of—something connected with our journey together, that she, perhaps, ought to be told."
It was a very hesitating sentence; the speaker's tone and manner suggested embarrassing uncertainty as to just what she should do next. Something helped the mother to self-control and decision. Whatever that woman thought she ought to tell Daisy ought to be told! She believed in her! She might be mistaken in judgment, of course; unduly alarmed about a small matter; all people were liable to mistakes, occasionally. But she was sincere! Of that, Mrs. Sheldon felt absolutely sure; and what she had to say might help to clear away some anxieties. She held out her hand and spoke cordially.
"I am glad to see you again, Mrs. Dunlap, but I am afraid that my daughter will not be able to do so, this evening; she has had a somewhat trying day and is feeling to-night as though she could not talk with anybody. She seems nervously unstrung with her recent experiences. She has retired, I think, but perhaps you will trust me with a message?"
Mrs. Dunlap reached a quick decision. "Perhaps I had better tell you all about it," she said, speaking as an intimate friend might have done. "I have taken a room at the Delport House, and shall not leave until sometime to-morrow afternoon I think. If Daisy is feeling better, I could see her in the morning. I hope you will pardon my interest in your daughter and my familiar use of her name. She and I grew quite intimate during that one day you know."
The mother's quick thought was, "What would she think if she knew that I had just been told to say 'Marguerite!'"
Mary Dunlap, noting the troubled glance of the mother hurried on:
"I had a precious little girl of my own, once, about your daughter's age, Mrs. Sheldon. She was my only child. That night when your daughter stayed with me in my room was the first time I had ever been able to say with my whole heart, 'Thank God my Margaret is forever safe in the Everlasting arms!'
"That is my apology for intruding on you again. And now, perhaps it would be wiser for me to have my talk with you, leaving you to repeat as much or as little as you see fit, to your daughter."
Mrs. Sheldon answered quickly, excitedly: "Oh, I wish you would!" she said, "I have so longed to see you and ask you a lot of questions. Won't you sit down? And please, tell me first, about that night at the hotel. I know so very little about it, and I want to understand exactly what happened. Daisy is very vague in her story, and is so excitable that I dare not question her in her present state. All that I now know positively is that because of crowded conditions at the hotel, you kindly permitted her to share your room for the night."
"Is it possible that you have not been told the whole story!" exclaimed Mary Dunlap in amazement. It seemed incredible that such a girl as the one she had protected had kept her mother in ignorance of the whole of that night's happenings.