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Mrs. Day's Daughters by Mary E. Mann
page 9 of 360 (02%)
by an indulgent, reproving mother to be a good girl, and to go quietly to
sleep. What mother could be angry with Deleah, looking at her rose and
white face amid the tumult of tossed dark curls upon her pillow!

Then Bessie led her mother into an unoccupied room, hard by, upon the
landing, and began to unfold her tale.

"Mama, it is about Reggie." The room was only lit by the flame of the
candle Mrs. Day held, but there was light enough to show the blushes on
Bessie's young plump cheeks. "Mama, he has said something about _that_
again. _You_ know."

"About his being engaged to you?"

Bessie, cheeks and eyes aglow and alight, ecstatically nodded; her fair
bosom in its garniture of white tulle and forget-me-nots, rose and fell.
"What two pretty daughters I have!" Mrs. Day said to herself, and, being a
devout woman, gave thanks accordingly.

"Well, dear, and what did you say?"

"I said--I don't know what I said, mama. We were dancing that last
galop--the Orlando Furioso one, you know--and the room was so full, and
other couples were rushing down upon us--people are so horribly selfish
when they dance, and some of them dance so boisterously."

"It would be a very nice engagement for you, Bessie. I suppose there was
not a girl here to-night who would not gladly take him."

"I know that. I know that, mama. So does he--Reggie."
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