t she wanted to bring. They've got going
at the piano; it seems as if they couldn't leave off. Mr. Giovanelli
sings splendidly. But I guess they'll come before very long," concluded
Mrs. Miller hopefully.

"I'm sorry she should come in that way," said Mrs. Walker.

"Well, I told her that there was no use in her getting dressed before
dinner if she was going to wait three hours," responded Daisy's mamma.
"I didn't see the use of her putting on such a dress as that to sit
round with Mr. Giovanelli."

"This is most horrible!" said Mrs. Walker, turning away and addressing
herself to Winterbourne. "Elle s'affiche. It's her revenge for my having
ventured to remonstrate with her. When she comes, I shall not speak to
her."

Daisy came after eleven o'clock; but she was not, on such an occasion,
a young lady to wait to be spoken to. She rustled forward in radiant
loveliness, smiling and chattering, carrying a large bouquet, and
attended by Mr. Giovanelli. Everyone stopped talking and turned and
looked at her. She came straight to Mrs. Walker. "I'm afraid you thought
I never was coming, so I sent mother off to tell you. I wanted to make
Mr. Giovanelli practice some things before he came; you know he sings
beautifully, and I want you to ask him to sing. This is Mr. Giovanelli;
you know I introduced him to you; he's got the most lovely voice, and
he knows the most charming set of songs. I made him go over them this
evening on purpose; we had the greatest time at the hotel." Of all
this Daisy delivered herself with the sweetest, brightest audibleness,
looking now at her hostess and now round the room, while she gave a
series of little pats, round her shoulders, to the edges of her dress.
"Is there anyone I know?" she asked.

"I think every one knows you!" said Mrs. Walker pregnantly, and she gave
a very cursory greeting to Mr. Giovanelli. This gentleman bore himself
gallantly. He smiled and bowed and showed his white teeth; he curled his
mustaches and rolled his eyes and performed all the proper functions
of a handsome Italian at an evening party. He sang very prettily half
a dozen songs, though Mrs. Walker afterward declared that she had been
quite unable to find out who asked him. It was apparently not Daisy who
had given him his orders. Daisy sat at a distance from the piano, and
though she had publicly, as it were, professed a high admiration for his
singing, talked, not inaudibly, while it was going on.

"It's a pity thes