Page:The Father Confessor, Stories of Danger and Death.djvu/268

258 Donald flushing, slightly. "We are having a good chat. Won't you sit down and join us?"

But Mrs. Allison could not for the moment.

When the door closed after her a chorus of voices rung out.

"But the father and mother are not negro."

"There's not a trace in the family."

"She's not a bit like one."

Mrs. Donald pounced on the last speaker.

"Not a bit like! Look at her hair! Look at her face—her lips! Have you no eyes?"

"We never noticed; but now that you draw our attention to it," one said, "perhaps there are some characteristics. But the father or mother—what do you insinuate?"

"Me! I insinuate nothing." Mrs. Donald was surprised. "But, between ourselves," she added confidentially, "I fancy Virginia is not their own child, but some half-caste negro they have adopted for some reason which I should like to know."

"What a name to call her by—Virginia!" Miss Anderson said, "if they did not want to attract attention to what they evidently wish to hide."

"Well, there are two explanations of that,"