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Updated: May 27, 2025
"Mother-dear!" It was the voice of Betty Harris eager, triumphant, with a little laugh running through it. "Mother-dear!" "Yes Betty " The woman seated at the dark mahogany desk looked up, a little line between her eyes. "You have come, child?" It was half a caress. She put out an absent hand, drawing the child toward her while she finished her note.
The bowed heads, the bit of folded tissue, the laughing, eager tones, the look in Miss Stone's face held her. She swept aside the drapery and entered the stately lady of the house. The bowed heads were lifted. The child sprang to her feet. "Mother-dear! It is my friend! He has come!" The words sang. Mrs. Philip Harris held out a gracious hand. She had not intended to offer her hand.
But he is most wonderful !" The child spread her hands and drew a deep breath. "More wonderful than father?" It was an idle, laughing question while she studied the lifted-up face. "More wonderful than father yes " The child nodded gravely. "I can't quite tell you, mother-dear, how it feels " She laid a tiny hand on her chest. Her eyes were full of thought.
"He speaks like music, and he loves things oh, very much!" "I see And did Madame Lewandowska introduce you to him?" "Oh, it was not there." The child's face cleared with swift thought. "I didn't tell you Madame was ill " The reclining figure straightened a little in its place, but the face was still smiling. "So you and Miss Stone " "But Miss Stone is ill, mother-dear.
She had touched the bell with quick decision. "Marie" she held out the box "tell Nesmer to serve these with luncheon." "Am I to have luncheon with you, mother-dear?" The child's eyes were on her mother's face. "With me yes." The reply was prompt if a little tremulous. The child sighed happily. "It is being a marvellous day," she said, quaintly. The mother smiled.
The child was a Velasquez people had often remarked it, and the mother had taken the note that gave to her clothes the regal air touched with simplicity. "So it was a good lesson, was it?" she repeated, absently, as she stroked the small dark hand her own figure graciously outlined as she leaned back enjoying the lifted face and straight, clear eyes. "Mother-dear!"
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