"I am going down to the office now, my dear," he said; "we have some important cases to look after this morning. I will take a run up in the course of an hour or so. If the young girl should recover and wish to see me very particularly, I suppose you will have to send for me. Don't get me away up here unless you find out the case is imperative." And with a good-humored nod, the shrewd detective, so quiet and domesticated at his own fireside, walked quickly down the path to the gate, whistling softly to himself--thinking with a strange, puzzled expression in his keen blue eyes, of Daisy. Through all of his business transactions that morning the beautiful, childish face was strangely before his mind's eye. "Confound it!" he muttered, seizing his hat, "I must hurry home and find out at once who that pretty little creature is--and what she wants." CHAPTER XXXIV. The sunny summer days came and went, lengthening themselves into long weeks before Daisy Brooks opened her eyes to consciousness. No clew could be found as to who the beautiful young stranger was. Mr. Tudor had proposed sending her to the hospital--but to this proposition his wife would not listen. "No, indeed, Harvey," she exclaimed, twisting the soft, golden curls over her white fingers, "she shall stay here where I can watch over her myself, poor little dear." "You amaze me, my dear," expostulated her husband, mildly. "You can not tell who you may be harboring." "Now, Harvey," exclaimed the little woman, bending over the beautiful, still, white face resting against the crimson satin pillow, "don't insinuate there could be anything wrong with this poor child. My woman's judgment tells me she is as pure as those lilies in yonder fountain's bed." "If you had seen as much of the world as I have, my dear, you would take little stock in the innocence of beautiful women; very homely women are rarely dangerous." "There is no use in arguing the point, Harvey. I have determined she shall not be sent to the hospital, and she shall stay here." Mrs. Tudor carried the point, as she always did in every argument. "Well, my dear, if any ill consequences arise from this piece of folly of yours, remember, I shirk all responsibility." "'When a woman will, she will, you may depend on't, And when she won't--she won't, and there's an end on't,'" he quoted, dryly. "I sincerely hope you will not rue it." "Now, you would be surprised, my dear, to find out at some future time you had been entertaining an angel unawares." "I should be _extremely_ surprised; you have put it mildly, my dear--nay, I may say dumbfounded--to find an angel dwelling down here below among us sinners. My experience has led me to believe the best place for angels is up above where they belong. I am glad that _you_ have such pretty little notions, though, my dear. It is not best for women to know too much of the ways of the world."