Page:Stella Dallas, a novel (IA stelladallasnove00prou).pdf/53

Rh dawned on the screen before her, as it were. Why, her father was gazing at the lady behind the tea-kettle, as if—as if—! Laurel had seen too many close-ups of faces not to recognize that look! She drew in her breath sharply. It flashed over Laurel that perhaps this man wasn't really her father after all! She stirred, moved a foot.

Mrs. Morrison glanced over her shoulder.

"Oh! come here, Laurel," she exclaimed at sight of her, and stretched out her arm, and kept it stretched out until Laurel had stepped within its circle.

"This is Laurel, boys," she said briefly. Then, still holding Laurel, not giving her even a chance to go through the agony of a series of curtsies, she went on, "These are your new friends, Laurel. Cornelius, over there by the piano, is the oldest. 'Con' we call him for short. And Dane comes next. 'Great Dane' they call him at school. But I call him little Dane. And the little boy in your father's lap is Frederick. 'Rick' is his nickname. He's the baby—five years old now. We haven't any little girl for you, Laurel," she sighed. How lucky! No girls! Boys weren't half as cruel.

"And now," Mrs. Morrison broke off, "I wonder would you pass this cup of tea I'm making to your father? And, Con dear, will you pass the sandwiches? Get down, Rickie, and run and get your rabbit and bring it in and show it to Laurel. And, Dane, take Michael out. Michael," she explained to Laurel, "is not fond of Mercedes's society, Mercedes being the rabbit," she smiled.

They were all busy in no time—all but Mrs.