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I'll let you know when Mary will come, and then you can get into trouble right away." Drusilla laughed. "You trust me for carrying out that part of it. Good night, dear." The following Wednesday Miss Doane received a message to the effect that Daphne and Mary Deane were going in to the matinee that day and would stop to see her on their return.
Here a slight cough interrupted the young artist, and the moist glitter of his blue eyes also betrayed that he was suffering from an attack of severe pain in his lungs; but Daphne nodded assent to him, and to Hermon also, and commanded the steward Gras to take the birds out of her sight.
And, besides, his spirit remained free from the horrible darkness that assailed mine. Joy itself, Daphne, has lost its illuminating power within. What, girl, what is to become of the heart in which even hope was destroyed?"
The front garden was empty, but voices voices, it seemed, of children came from behind the house where there was a grove of trees. "Is Mr. Herbert French at home?" she asked of the maid who answered her bell. The girl looked at her doubtfully. "Yes, ma'am but he doesn't see visitors yet. Shall I tell Mrs. French? She's in the garden with the children." "No, thank you," said Daphne, firmly.
"It was awfully nice of you to stop for us, Taffy," Phyllis said as soon as the greetings were over. "This is certainly a whole lot better than walking." "Yes, isn't it!" Daphne agreed. "I was tickled when mother said I could have it. It isn't often that I can, you know." Sally had been looking out of the window, and suddenly she leaned forward and knocked on the glass and waved.
"But my two cruel cousins have closed their doors even upon me, who came here for the sake of their works," Daphne interrupted, "and, as rather Zeus is threatening a storm just see what black clouds are rising! we ought not to urge our artists further; a solemn oath forbids them to show their creations now to any one."
The weed lifted and fell, seething, but the cry, even if the old man had heard it once, was not repeated. By FRANCES NOYES HART Daphne was singing to herself when she came through the painted gate in the back wall.
When primitive man felt the tender passion steal over his soul, he lay in wait in the hush for the Phyllis or Daphne whose charms had inspired his heart with young desire; and when she passed his hiding-place, in maiden meditation, fancy free, he felled her with a club, caught her tight by the hair of her head, and dragged her off in triumph to his cave or his rock-shelter.
The General retailed his information. Miss Daphne Floyd was the orphan daughter of an enormously rich and now deceased lumber-king, of the State of Illinois.
Miss Daphne laughed and shook her head. "Oh, Kit, child, do go easy," she said. "Organize yourself all you like, but be terribly careful how you start organizing other people's lives." The girls had to leave early, as the Shakespearian entertainment was to happen that night up at Assembly Hall. "Your very last chance to mingle, Kit," Norma called, as they all trooped out of the lower hall.
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