turned to Mrs. Geraldine, who continued:

"She has her mother's wonderful beauty, with all its refinement of her
father, and such a sweet expression that you feel like kissing her. Her
eyes, like her mother's, are blue, but so clear and dark that at times
they seemed almost black, especially when there came into them as there
often did, a troubled look, when Daisy was relating some of her
adventures, which we knew could not be true. At such times, it was
curious to watch the child as she listened with her great wide-open eyes
and flushed cheeks, while her breath came in short gasps, as if she were
longing to contradict her mother, and this she sometimes did.

"'Mamma, mamma, please,' she would say. 'Haven't you forgotten? Wasn't
it this way?' but a look would silence her, and there would settle upon
her face and about her mouth that patient, sorrowful expression pitiful
to see in one so young."

"And her father, was he fond of her?" Miss McPherson asked, and Mrs.
Jerrold replied:

"Yes, very, and she of him. She seemed to recognize the difference
between him and her mother, and kept by him most of the time. It was a
very pretty sight to see her with her arms around his neck and her
bright head leaning on his arm, while she looked up at him so lovingly
and sympathizingly, too, as they watched the maneuvers of her mother.
Once I heard her say to him, when Daisy was flirting more than usual and
attracting all eyes to her, 'I shall never do like that; but mamma is
very pretty, isn't she?'

"'Yes, darling, very pretty,' he answered, and then they kissed each
other very quietly. I wish you could see Bessie."

It was not often that Geraldine praised anything or anybody as she
praised this little English girl who had made a strong impression upon
her, and of whom she might have said more if Miss McPherson had not
rejoined:

"I did see her once, and her mother, too. I was home three years ago,
you know, and I went to Aberystwyth in Wales, where I heard Archie was
staying, but I did not make myself known to him, I was so disgusted with
what I heard of his wife's conduct, which he allowed without a word of
protest. But I was anxious to see the child, and one morning I sat on a
bench on the Marine Terrace watching a group of children playing near
me. I was almost sure that the one with the blue eyes and bright hair
was Archie's and so I called aloud, 'Betsey McPherson, are you there?'

"Instantly she came to me, and foldin