CHAPTER VI.
THE EPERGNE.
Daisy slept on, until a bustle and sounds of voices and
laughter in the hall, and boots clattering over the marble and
up the staircase, at last found their way into her ears.
The riding party had got home. Daisy sat up and rubbed her
eves and looked out.
The sun was low, and shining from the western mountains over
the tops of all the trees. It was certainly near dinner-time;
the cool glittering look of the light on the trees and shrubs
could not be earlier than that. What had become of the
strawberry feast? It seemed like a dream. Daisy shook off the
remains of her sleep and hurried out by one of the glass doors
to go and see. She ran down to the bank where the table was
spread. It was a feast over. The company were gone, so were
the baskets of strawberries; yes, and the very bouquets of
flowers had been taken away. That was a sign of pleasure.
Nothing was left but the disordered table. Daisy hoped the
people had had a good time, and slowly went back towards the
house. As she came near the library window she saw her father,
standing in it.
"Well, Daisy?"
"Well, papa."
"How has the feast gone off?"
"I don't know, papa. There's nothing left but the boards and
the cups and saucers.
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