granting all that, you forget I am blind. My affliction
brings me more in touch with them. I would have no feeling of
superiority--I could not; so they come nearer to me, perhaps. Or else I
have fallen among pleasanter people. Look your sweetest now, and try
once more. I'm sure you will find some warmer currents in this frozen
stream, if you sound it well."

Joyce smilingly pressed the gentle hand that caressed her own.

"I'll make another plunge," she said more hopefully. "Ah! here's Mr.
Dalton. I think he looks a bit _triste_, too. Good evening again, Mr.
Dalton. I want to ask you a question, please. Can you tell me who is
that man with the brown hair and bristling red beard, over in that group
by the door--there, he is just moving on."

"That? Oh yes, I see. Why, his name is Hapgood--Bill Hapgood, as we all
call him. His girl Lucy is here somewhere--a good child, sadly
overworked. He's no good, though; always quarreling with his bread and
butter, and much too fond of the saloon."

"Lucy Hapgood's father!" exclaimed Joyce under her breath, turning
surprised eyes upon Madame Bonnivel, as if that lady could meet her
speaking glance.

And so she could in spirit, for her perceptions amounted almost to
mind-reading. A smile of amusement lit up her sweet face, as she cried
merrily,

"Father and daughter, are they? What a coincidence!"

Dalton looked from one to the other, uncomprehending.

Then his gaze lingered on Joyce's flushing cheek. As she made no effort
to explain he said, presently, "I thought Mrs. Bonnivel might like some
refreshments, and I told Mr. Driscoll, if he would take his wife and
sister I would come for you two ladies. But he said they had gone home
with the baby."

"Have they? And what has become of Mrs. Phelps?" asked Joyce, feeling
somewhat forsaken by her clan.

"She went in with the doctor some time ago. I rather think she has left,
too. She had a headache, or something."

Joyce glanced around her with a dissatisfied expression.

"No," she said, "this won't do! We might as well all have stayed at home
as to come here just for a supercilious glance or two, while we huddle
together. And yet--whom can I ask to take me?"

Dalton, with his eyes upon her, wondered. Had she been at a ball, among
her own kind, who would not have wanted her? Even had no hint of
possessions gone abroad, she was peerless in beauty and brightness. He
made a queer little sound which Madame caught, and laughed soft