"Where is her mother? Where is Mrs. Legrange, James?"

"I don't know, sir, I'm sure," said the footman blankly.

"She's in her own room, sir; and I'm afraid to go to tell her,
she'll feel that bad. And indeed it wasn't any fault of mine: I only
went"--

"Hush!" exclaimed Mr. Legrange, who had heard his wife close her
chamber-door and begin to descend the stairs, and did not wish her
to be frightened.

"Wait here a moment, Susan," added he, and, running up stairs,
entered the drawing-room just after his wife, who stood before the
fire, looking so pretty and so gay in her blue silk-dress, with a
ribbon of the same shade twisted among her golden curls, that her
husband shrunk back, dreading to ask the question that must so shock
and startle her. But Mrs. Legrange had caught sight of him, and,
running to the door, opened it suddenly, crying,--

"Come in, you silly boy! Are you playing bo-beep? I don't do such
things since my daughter is six years old, I would have you to
understand."

Mr. Legrange, forcing a laugh and a careless tone, came forward as
she spoke, and, stooping to kiss her, asked,--

"And where is your daughter, my love?"

"'Toinette? Oh! I suppose she is with Susan," began Mrs. Legrange